Patroon van Volkenberg

by Henry Thew Stephenson

I also learned that, whereas Bellamont had taken the advice of Kidd, Kidd had received his cue from Van Volkenberg. So it was the patroon after all who had emptied the fort of its regular guard. But I had no time then to think of what motive he had for doing so, for we were fast nearing the landing at Hanging Rock. Several times during this conversation Van Volkenberg had spoken again of his change of heart. Often a low chuckle escaped him on the occasion of such a reference. His spirits were evidently rising, and, for the present, all thoughts of Louis and his absence must have been forgotten.

When we arrived at the manor-house, the patroon led his guest to the door of the dining room.

“St. Vincent,” he said, “stand here on guard. No one is to come in or to interrupt us in any way till we come out again.”

With that he opened the door and motioned Captain Kidd to enter. I could only see a part of the room from where I stood. What mainly occupied the vista disclosed by the open door was the great mahogany sideboard, which stood against the wall at the farther end of the room. On the upper part of it were plenty of glass vessels and blue china pieces from Delft and heavy articles of silver plate; the lower part was a huge cupboard used to store less showy articles of furniture. I used to wonder at the bigness of this enclosure and thought what a place it would be to play hide and seek in if there were only children about the house. Then the door closed and I saw no more of the sideboard or of the visitor for a while. But I heard a laugh; it was loud and uproarious, and I thought he would never have done. But he subsided at last; then I could hear the muffle of low voices, but never a word reached my ears that I could understand.

I walked up and down the hall for a long time. The minutes merged into an hour and then two hours. I grew tired with nothing to occupy my mind but the continual mumble of low voices. I fell to wondering where Louis was and what he was up to. More than once I had suspected the patroon’s motive in garrisoning the fort with his own men. I was so sure that his action was a mere trick, though I was taken in by it at the time, that I intended to slip from my window that very night and go to the Earl with a warning. Then it flashed upon me that perhaps Louis had already done this. Could the horseman we had heard be a messenger to recall the troops that had been dispatched to Albany? The idea seemed possible. The more I thought of it the more certain I became. I can remember to this day the thrill of satisfaction that I felt when I understood that the patroon was within one of checkmating himself. My imagination ran riot there in the silence before the door I was guarding. I began to fancy that the patroon meant to get possession of the city. I had noticed that day that his seven ships were so drawn up in the harbor as to command the whole front of the city. But in spite of everything I was satisfied with the situation. If the Earl had received warning, the patroon, after all, might succeed only in trapping himself.

Then I felt a pang at heart—he was Miriam’s father. I could no longer hide from myself the fact that I was in love with the patroon’s daughter. From the moment when I first felt the charm of her attractiveness, I had fought hard against it. She was a Catholic and, worse than that, she was his daughter. But she had been good to Ruth. I recalled how earnestly my sister had tried to break down my unreasoning hatred of the Catholics. I thought, too, of Miriam’s kindness to old Meg; and of her love and belief in her father; and of her simple purity of faith. These were qualities I had not looked for in the Roman church. Then came that sweet picture of her and Ruth kneeling side by side in the little oratory, each praying in her own faith.

This very evening I had begged Miriam for a keepsake. She had been with us during a part of the time when her father was so upset by Louis’s absence. She had tried to coax him into a better humor, but he told her sharply to leave the room and go to bed. I followed her into the hall and when, a moment later, I picked up a handkerchief which she had dropped on the floor, I begged her to let me keep it. It was a mere bit of sentiment on my part, I confess, but it would have been a treasure to me and I wanted it with all my heart.

But Miriam thought differently. She protested against the gift in such a vigorous manner that I could think nothing less than that she would not have me wear a favor of hers. This dashed my spirits and she saw accordingly how seriously I took the matter.

“Pooh, you are foolish,” she cried, laughing. “This is why I won’t let you have it.”

She shook out the handkerchief and thrust her finger through a tiny hole in one corner. In vain I told her it was all the better for that. She only brushed me lightly in the face with it and ran up stairs laughing.