Patroon van Volkenberg

by Henry Thew Stephenson

She stopped speaking and left the room abruptly, for at that moment another door was opened, which I could not see, though I heard the latch click distinctly. Then Louis Van Ramm entered the room and came to his master’s side. I heard the patroon say something to him about the “Wench, my daughter.” Then he and the dwarf fell to talking in tones so low that I could only hear now and then an excited exclamation of surprise.

I can hardly express the feelings that I experienced at that moment. From where I crouched in the shrubbery, shivering with cold, I could look upon the wide space where I had seen the Red Band drilling the night before, surrounded by the jumping shadows of the torches. The picture of the girl dressed in white, standing upon the platform while the troopers obeyed the commands of their chief, and the impatient gesture with which she had been dismissed by her father, were all clear in my mind’s eye. I had not thought then that within a day I should have found a friend within the walls of the manor. Yet such was the case. The girl was disposed to treat me kindly. I did not care so much for that. My heart was drawn towards her because she had loved Ruth, and because she was now suffering for that affection. I could not but admire her spirit, and the quiet dignity with which she stood to her convictions before the hot anger of her parent; nor could I observe without still greater admiration the noble pride that prompted her to be silent the moment another person entered the room. Of course I did not know then as I knew later how unlike her usual manner this severity towards her father was. But I soon learned that there were moments when his peculiar infirmity demanded such firmness and that this was one of them.

While I mused upon the scene before me and all it stood for, the patroon and his retainer sat at the table in busy conversation. At last Van Volkenberg leaned back in his chair and fitted the palms of his hands together, tapping the finger tips slightly.

“Good news, Louis,” he said, for the first time raising his voice so that I could hear him distinctly. “This time we trip the Earl, God’s curse upon him.”

For a moment they sat silent, the master lost in thought. Evidently the news communicated to Louis in the meeting by Webber’s tavern was vitally connected with the welfare of the Earl of Bellamont. At last Van Volkenberg was roused by some question from his companion that I could not hear.

“You are right,” the patroon answered. “On my life we must not let this chance slip. Before day-light—” I lost what followed, for he bent over the table with a pen in his hand and began to write.

For some time I watched the end of the quill nodding back and forth as he wrote, evidently in great haste and excitement. Twice he tore the paper across several times and began to write upon a new sheet. When he had finished, he rose, folding what he had written carefully as he did so. He took a step or two away from the table towards the window. This movement brought him so close to me that I overheard what followed without difficulty.

“This must be printed and posted before day-light, Louis. Take it to Bradford. Rout him out of bed. Give him good reasons. It must be done at once. Do not take no from him. Hurry, Louis, my gay hawk. We shall peck the fine Earl to the bone by noon to-morrow.”

At that both men left the apartment. I set out immediately along the footpath that joined with the road to the city. I had not far to go in order to reach the main road, but the distance was far enough to bring me for a moment in peril of my life. I was still within hail of the house when I heard dull, heavy thuds falling in quick succession behind me, and growing louder with every step. I turned to look back. A hound was making towards me in great leaps across the moonlight. The next moment he sprang upon me. Though I braced myself for the shock, I fell heavily to the ground. In this moment of danger, I had enough presence of mind to thrust my hand into the brute’s mouth and to grip tight hold of his lower jaw. We writhed and twisted about the ground for several minutes. Once I was knocked so violently against the trunk of a tree that it was a miracle that I did not lose my hold. We rolled back together and in some way, I know not how, I fell uppermost with the point of my knee on the dog’s side. Quick as a flash, I gripped my free hand on his throat. He gasped for breath till his whole body shook and I with it. But I had won the fall and did not rise till he lay motionless at my feet.

Such an escape as that makes a man sober. I continued along the road, thinking of many things; above all, of how it might have ended. By what a slender thread and how tenaciously we cling to life! Yesterday, when my sorrow first fell upon me with its full weight, there was nothing terrible about the face of death; but to-night, with his grim features close before me, I felt that heedless courage which even the most miserable always feel, though they would thank God for cowardice. With this thought came another: How Ruth must have felt! She had crossed the gulf that I had fought to draw back from. Not till then did my thoughts return to the work in hand—the paper and the dwarf’s errand. Almost immediately I heard the clatter of horse hoofs breaking the silence behind me.