“What wouldst thou, violent young man? Why are the inmates of this house to suffer death by your means?” said the maiden, with composure.
For a few seconds Philip gazed, and could make no reply; then the thought seized him that in his vengeance, he was about to sacrifice so much loveliness. He forgot everything but her danger, and seizing one of the large poles which he had brought to feed the flame, he threw off and scattered in every direction the burning masses, until nothing was left which could hurt the building but the ignited door itself; and this, which as yet—for it was of thick oak plank—had not suffered very material injury, he soon reduced, by beating it, with clods of earth, to a smoking and harmless state. During these active measures on the part of Philip, the young maiden watched him in silence.
“All is safe now, young lady,” said Philip. “God forgive me that I should have risked a life so precious. I thought but to wreak my vengeance upon Mynheer Poots.”
“And what cause can Mynheer Poots have given for such dreadful vengeance?” replied the maiden, calmly.
“What cause, young lady? He came to my house—despoiled the dead—took from my mother’s corpse a relic beyond price.”
“Despoiled the dead!—he surely cannot—you must wrong him, young sir.”
“No, no. It is the fact, lady,—and that relic—forgive me—but that relic I must have. You know not what depends upon it.”
“Wait, young sir,” replied the maiden; “I will soon return.”
Philip waited several minutes, lost in thought and admiration: so fair a creature in the house of Mynheer Poots! Who could she be? While thus ruminating, he was accosted by the silver voice of the object of his reveries, who, leaning out of the window held in her hand the black ribbon to which was attached the article so dearly coveted.
“Here is your relic, sir,” said the young female; “I regret much that my father should have done a deed which well might justify your anger: but here it is,” continued she, dropping it down on the ground by Philip; “and now you may depart.”