“I know,” said Ghysbrecht; “he is at Sevenbergen. My servant met him on the road.”
Supper passed in gloomy silence. Evening descended—no Gerard! Eight o'clock came—no Gerard! Then the father sent all to bed, except Catherine.
“You and I will walk abroad, wife, and talk over this new care.”
“Abroad, my man, at this time? Whither?”
“Why, on the road to Sevenbergen.”
“Oh no; no hasty words, father. Poor Gerard! he never vexed you before.”
“Fear me not. But it must end; and I am not one that trusts to-morrow with to-day's work.”
The old pair walked hand in hand; for, strange is it may appear to some of my readers, the use of the elbow to couples walking was not discovered in Europe till centuries after this. They sauntered on a long time in silence. The night was clear and balmy. Such nights, calm and silent, recall the past from the dead.
“It is a many years since we walked so late, my man,” said Catherine softly.
“Ay, sweetheart, more than we shall see again (is he never coming, I wonder?)”