The Cloister and the Hearth by Charles Reade (most interesting books to read .TXT) 📕

It was the day after that terrible scene: the little house in the Hoog Straet was like a grave, and none more listless and dejected than Catherine, so busy and sprightly by nature, After dinner, her eyes red with weeping, she went to the convent to try and soften Gerard, and lay the first stone at least of a reconciliation.

It was some time before she could make the porter understand whom she was seeking. Eventually she learned he had left late last night, and was not expected back, She went sighing with the news to Margaret. She found her sitting idle, like one with whom life had lost its savour; she had her boy clasped so tight in her arms, as if he was all she had left, and she feared some one would take him too. Catherine begged her to come to the Hoog Straet.

“What for?” sighed Margaret. “You cannot but say to yourselves, she is the cause of all.”

“Nay, nay,” said Catherine, “we are not so ill-hearted, and Eli is so fond on you; you will maybe soften him.”

“Oh, if you think I can do any good, I'll come,” said Margaret, with a weary sigh.

They found Eli and a carpenter putting up another name in place of Cornelis and Sybrandt's; and what should that name be but Margaret Brandt's.

With all her affection for Margaret, this went through poor Catherine like a knife. “The bane of one is another's meat,” said she.

“Can he make me spend the money unjustly?” replied Margaret coldly.

“You are a good soul,” said Catherine. “Ay, so best, sith he is the strongest.”

The next day Giles dropped in, and Catherine told the story all in favour of the black sheep, and invited his pity for them, anathematized by their brother, and turned on the wide world by their father. But Giles's prejudices ran the other way; he heard her out, and told her bluntly the knaves had got off cheap; they deserved to be hanged at Margaret's door into the bargain, and dismissing them with contempt, crowed with delight at the return of his favourite. “I'll show him,” said he, “what 'tis to have a brother at court with a heart to serve a friend, and a head to point the way.”

“Bless thee, Giles,” murmured Margaret softly.

“Thou wast ever his stanch friend, dear Giles,” said little Kate; “but alack, I know not what thou canst do for him now.”

Giles had left them, and all was sad and silent again, when a well-dressed man opened the door softly, and asked was Margaret Brandt here.

“D'ye hear, lass? You are wanted,” said Catherine briskly. In her the Gossip was indestructible.

“Well, mother,” said Margaret listlessly, “and here I am.”

A shuffling of feet was heard at the door, and a colourless, feeble old man was assisted into the room. It was Ghysbrecht Van Swieten. At sight of him Catherine shrieked, and threw her apron over her head, and Margaret shuddered violently, and turned her head swiftly away, not to see him.

A feeble voice issued from the strange visitor's lips, “Good people, a dying man hath come to ask your forgiveness.”

“Come to look on your work, you mean,” said Catherine, taking down her apron and bursting out sobbing. “There, there, she is fainting; look to her, Eli, quick.”

“Nay,” said Margaret, in a feeble voice, “the sight of him gave me a turn, that is all, Prithee, let him say his say, and go; for he is the murderer of me and mine.”

“Alas,” said Ghysbrecht, “I am too feeble to say it standing and no one biddeth me sit down.”

Eli, who had followed him into the house, interfered here, and said, half sullenly, half apologetically, “Well, burgomaster, 'tis not our wont to leave a visitor standing whiles we sit. But man, man, you have wrought us too much ill.” And the honest fellow's voice began to shake with anger he fought hard to contain, because it was his own house.

Then Ghysbrecht found an advocate in one who seldom spoke in vain in that family.

It was little Kate. “Father, mother,” said she, “my duty to you, but this is not well. Death squares all accounts, And see you not death in his face? I shall not live long, good