"O wee, O wee!"
"Mijn kind, speak to me."
Weeping bitterly, she rose and went to her mother, and laid her head upon Lysbet's shoulder.
"Look now, Joris. One must know the 'why' and the 'wherefore.' What mean you? Whish, mijn kindje!"
"This I mean, Lysbet. No more meetings with the Englishman will I have. No love secrets will I bear. Danger is with them; yes, and sin too."
"Joris, if he has spoken to you, then where is the secret?"
"Too late he spoke. When worked was his own selfish way, to tell me of his triumph he comes. It is a shameful wrong. Forgive it? No, I will not,—never!"
No one answered him; only Katherine's low weeping broke the silence, and for a few moments Joris paced the room sorrowful and amazed. Then he looked at Lysbet, and she rose and gave her place to him. He put his arms around his darling, and kissed her fondly.
"Mijn kindje, listen to me thy father. It is for thy happy life here, it is for thy eternal life, I speak to thee. This man for whom thou art now weeping is not good for thee. He is not of thy faith, he is a Lutheran; not of thy people, he is an Englishman; not of thy station, he talks of his nobility; a gambler also, a man of fashion, of loose talk, of principles still more loose. If with the hawk a singing-bird might mate happily, then this English soldier thou might safely marry. Mijn beste kindje, do I love thee?"