“I have thoughts for all,” he answered, “but Suzanne alone has thought for me, since it seems that your husband would send me away, and you, mother, sit still and say not a word to stop him.”

“Learn to judge speech and not silence, lad,” I answered.  “Look you, all have been talking, and I have shammed dead like a stink-cat when dogs are about; now I am going to begin.  First of all, you, Jan, are a fool, for in your thick head you think that rank and wealth are everything to a man, and therefore you would send Ralph away to seek rank and wealth that may or may not belong to him, although he does not wish to go.  As for you, Ralph, you are a bigger fool, for you think that Jan Botmar, your foster-father here, desires to be rid of you when in truth he only seeks your good to his own sore loss.  As for you, Suzanne, you are the biggest fool of all, for you wish to fly in everybody’s face, like a cat with her first litter of kittens; but there, what is the use of arguing with a girl in love?  Now listen, and I will ask you some questions, all of you.  Jan, do you wish to send Ralph away with these strangers?”

“Almighty! vrouw,” he answered, “you know well that I would as soon send away my right hand.  I wish him to stop here for ever, and whatever I have is his; yes, even my daughter.  But I seek what is best for him, and I would not have it said in after years that Jan Botmar had kept an English lad not old enough to judge for himself from his rank and wealth because he took pleasure in his company and wished to marry him to his girl.”

“Good,” I said.  “And now for you, Suzanne; what have you to say?”

“I have nothing to add to my words,” she replied; “you know all my heart.”

“Good again.  And you, Ralph?”

“I say, mother, that I will not budge from this place unless I am ordered to go, and if I do go, I will come back for Suzanne.  I love you all, and with you I wish to live and nowhere else.”

“Nay, Ralph,” I answered sighing, “if once you go you will never come back, for out yonder you will find a new home, new interests, and, perchance, new loves.  Well, though nobody has thought of me in this matter, I have a voice in it, and I will speak for myself.  That lad yonder has been a son to me for many years, and I who have none love him as such.  He is a man as we reckon in this country, and he does not wish to leave us any more than we wish him to go.  Moreover, he loves Suzanne, and Suzanne loves him, and I believe that the God who brought them together at first means them to be husband and wife, and that such love as they bear to each other will give them more together than any wealth or rank can bring to them apart.  Therefore I say, husband, let our son, Ralph, say here with us and marry our daughter, Suzanne, decently and in due season, and let their children be our children, and their love our love.”

“And how about the Scotchmen who are coming with power to take him away?”