Cornelius took the Bible, and kissed it reverently.
“With what shall I write?” asked Cornelius.
“There is a pencil in the Bible,” said Rosa.
This was the pencil which John de Witt had lent to his brother, and which he had forgotten to take away with him.
Cornelius took it, and on the second fly leaf (for it will be remembered that the first was torn out), drawing near his end like his godfather, he wrote with a no less firm hand:—
“On this day, the 23d of August, 1672, being on the point of rendering, although innocent, my soul to God on the scaffold, I bequeath to Rosa Gryphus the only worldly goods which remain to me of all that I have possessed in this world, the rest having been confiscated; I bequeath, I say, to Rosa Gryphus three bulbs, which I am convinced must produce, in the next May, the Grand Black Tulip for which a prize of a hundred thousand guilders has been offered by the Haarlem Society, requesting that she may be paid the same sum in my stead, as my sole heiress, under the only condition of her marrying a respectable young man of about my age, who loves her, and whom she loves, and of her giving the black tulip, which will constitute a new species, the name of Rosa Barlœnsis, that is to say, hers and mine combined.
“So may God grant me mercy, and to her health and long life!
“Cornelius van Baerle.”
The prisoner then, giving the Bible to Rosa, said,—
“Read.”