instead of to the north, had he not hoped to find in Holland her, whom he had never forgotten, for whom he had never ceased to long—­ Now she was the wife of another, a man who had shown him kindness, given him his confidence.  To tear his love from his heart was impossible; but he owed it to her husband and his own honor to be strong, to resolutely repress every thought of possessing her, and only rejoice in seeing her; and this he must try to accomplish.

He had told himself all these things more than once, but realized that he was walking with unsteady steps, upon a narrow pathway, when she met him outside the dining-room and he felt how cold and tremulous was the hand she laid in his.

Maria led the way, and he silently followed her into Henrica’s room.  The latter greeted him with a friendly gesture, but both ladies hesitated to utter the first word.  The young man turned hastily, noticed that he was in the room overlooking the court-yard, and said, eagerly:  I was down below just before twilight, to look at my new quarters, and heard singing from this room, and such singing!  At first I didn’t know what was coming, for the tones were husky, weak, and broken, but afterwards—­ afterwards the melody burst forth like a stream of lava through the ashes.  We ought to wish many sorrows to one, who can lament thus.”

“You shall make the singer’s acquaintance,” said Maria, motioning towards the young girl.  “Fraulein Henrica Van Hoogstraten, a beloved guest in our house.”

“Were you the songstress?” asked Georg.

“Does that surprise you?” replied Henrica.  “My voice has certainly retained its strength better than my body, wasted by long continued suffering.  I feel how deeply my eyes are sunken and how pale I must be.  Singing certainly lightens pain, and I have been deprived of the comforter long enough.  Not a note has passed my lips for weeks, and now my heart aches so, that I would far rather weep than sing.  ’What troubles me?’ you will ask, and yet Maria gives me courage to request a chivalrous service, almost without parallel, at your hands.”

“Speak, speak,” Georg eagerly exclaimed.  “If Frau Maria summons me and I can serve you, dear lady:  here I am, dispose of me.”

Henrica did not avoid his frank glance, as she replied: 

“First hear what a great service we ask of you.  You must prepare yourself to hear a short story.  I am still weak and have put my strength to a severe test to-day, Maria must speak for me.”

The young wife fulfilled this task quietly and clearly, closing with the words: 

“The messenger we need, I have found myself.  You must be he, Junker Georg.”

Henrica had not interrupted the burgomaster’s wife; but now said warmly

“I have only made your acquaintance to-day, but I trust you entirely.  A few hours ago, black would have been my color, but if you will be my knight, I’ll choose cheerful green, for I now begin to hope again.  Will you venture to take the ride for me?”