CHAPTER III
GYSBERT BECOMES A JUMPER
"Turn thy face a little more to the light, Jacqueline. I want to get a full profile."
In the little living-room of the house in Belfry Lane, sat the two children, on an evening a month after the events of the last chapter. On one side of the table Vrouw Voorhaas bent over a huge pile of mending, casting an occasional loving and solicitous glance at her two charges, but otherwise quiet, silent and reserved. She was a woman of large, almost masculine proportions, and her muscular frame knew not the meaning of fatigue. Her features were plain and unprepossessing to a degree, but nevertheless grave and intelligent. She was rarely known to smile, and her manner was as that of one weighted down with a great responsibility. Gysbert frequently told his sister that Vrouw Voorhaas acted as though she had some dark secret on her mind, and Jacqueline was forced to admit the truth of the remark. Her devotion to the children was beyond question, yet she seldom exhibited any outward expression of affection.
Jacqueline bent over a musty-looking old book, turning its pages thoughtfully, and drawing her pretty brows together with a puzzled expression at frequent intervals. Gysbert sat on the opposite side of the table with pencil and paper before him, making a sketch of his sister's head as she leaned over her book.
"What is it thou art reading so intently?" he demanded at length.
"'Tis an old volume that belonged to father's library,—the only book that was not sold before we left Louvain," answered Jacqueline. Neither she nor Gysbert noticed the startled glance with which Vrouw Voorhaas raised her head at these words. Jacqueline continued:
"It seems to be all about medicine. Thou knowest how that subject interests me, Gysbert. I long, when I grow up to practice the healing art. I feel in some way as if the gift were in me."
"Poof!" said the boy. "Women are not fashioned to be physicians,—they have other duties! Thou art mad, Jacqueline! Such business is not for thee!"