Patroon van Volkenberg

by Henry Thew Stephenson

There was not much difficulty in persuading the patroon of the truth of the story we had put upon him to account for my second escape. To him it was a fearful dream, which pointed yet more clearly to the fact that I was not the man for him to meddle with. This fact almost turned the balance permanently in my favor, though he still had a lingering suspicion that I was some sort of spy, and I was to feel still more of his ill-humor on this score.

I heard no more of him that day. But the next he set me to some dirty work which was quite beneath the position in the household that he had at first accorded me. On the second day he forbade me to eat at the family table, and banished me to the servants’ hall. In a thousand ways, he did all in his power to make my position as uncomfortable as he could. I resented it much at the time, and was continually on the point of an angry outbreak of temper. One fact, however, more than anything else, deterred me. That was my duty to Lady Marmaduke.

I was heartily sick of the part I was playing. I had never been ashamed to own my name before, and, day by day, the sound of my false name covered me with more confusion. I felt like a coward, and that is a hard thought to one who prides himself on his courage. It was about this time that I began to doubt the leadership of my stern mistress. A man, however, cannot betray others to set himself right in his own eyes. I had done wrong to be led into this duplicity; but I had accepted a trust, and I should consider myself doubly wrong to betray my mistress now. I resolved to get out of it as soon as I could, but not by means of a second act of dishonor.

Meanwhile, the patroon’s ill-treatment of me continued. Yet it had its good side, as I can see now. I had already gained Miriam’s attention in the recital of my adventure at the tannery. She did not share her father’s prejudices against me. The patroon had said nothing openly, except to Louis, about his suspicions of my identity with Le Bourse. In Miriam’s presence, he had been especially careful to express himself in a way different from what he really felt. Doubtless he thought she would repeat his compliments to me, thus throwing me quite off my guard. In this way, without suspecting it, he pleaded my cause to Miriam long before it had taken shape in my own mind. Her sympathies were already enlisted in my behalf when I told her of my narrow escape. Her father’s present treatment of me was so at variance with what he had formerly said to her, that she was utterly at a loss to understand it. “It must be a mere whim,” she would say; or, “He is ill. He does not feel so, let me tell you.” Then she would repeat, just as the patroon had expected, what he had said to her. Thus, I and my affairs were constantly in her mind, as if it was her duty to settle them and restore peace.

“It will wear off,” she said soothingly, just after he had brought me up sharp with an insulting answer. “He has not been well lately. I know he does not mean it. Come, take a walk with me.”

So, twenty times a day, she would speak to me kindly and do some little act to soothe a reproach from him. At last she went to him direct to appeal for me. She has told me many a time since how she talked him out of a sullen humor. He told her flatly that he thought I was Le Bourse. Dear girl! She vouched for my honesty, and defended me so stoutly that he gave in at last.

“It is fate, Miriam,” he said. “It is fate. Let us cast lots. Cry as I toss. Crown or shield?”

He took a coin from his pocket and spun it on the table.

“Crown!” cried Miriam.

“It is so,” said the patroon as the coin flattened down with a jarring ring. “Fate says that I shall trust him. Call the man in.”