Such was the state of things when Anneke's own girl came to ask me to go to her mistress, if it were possible for me to quit my station, were it only for a minute. Having no particular duty to perform, there was no impropriety in complying with a request which, in itself, was every way so grateful to my feelings. Guert was near me at the time, and heard what the young negress said; this induced him to inquire if there was no message for himself; but, even at that serious moment, Mary Wallace did not relent. She had been kinder than common in manner, the previous night, as the Albanian had admitted; but, at the same time, she had appeared to distrust her own resolution so much, as even to give less direct encouragement than had actually escaped her on previous occasions.
I found Anneke expecting me in that little parlour where I had so recently listened to her sweet confessions of tenderness the evening before. She was alone, the instinct of her sex teaching her the expediency of having no witness of the feelings and language that might escape two hearts that were united as were ours, under circumstances so trying. The dear girl was pale as death when I entered; she had doubtless been thinking of the approaching conflict, and of what might be its frightful consequences; but, my presence instantly caused her face to be suffused with blushes, it being impossible for her sensitive mind not to revert to what had so lately occurred. This truth to the instinctive principle of her nature could hardly be extinguished in woman, even at the stake itself. Notwithstanding the liveliness and varying character of her feelings, Anneke was the first to speak.
“I have sent for you, Corny,” she said, laying a hand on her heart, as if to quiet its throbbings, “to say one word in the way of caution—I hope it is not wrong.”
“You can do nothing wrong, beloved Anneke,” I answered; “or, nothing that would seem so in my eyes. Be not thus agitated. Your fears have increased the danger, which we consider as trifling. The risks Guert, Dirck, and myself have already run, are tenfold those which now beset us.”
The dear girl submitted to have an arm of mine passed around her waist, when her head dropped on my breast, and she burst into tears. Enabled by this relief to command her feelings a little, it was not long ere Anneke raised herself from the endearing embrace I felt impelled to give her, though still permitting me to hold both her hands; and she looked up into my face, with the full confidence of affection, renewing the discourse.
“I could not suffer you to engage in this terrible scene, Corny,” she said, “without one word, one look, one sign of the interest I feel in you. My dear, dear father has heard all; and, though disappointed, he does not disapprove. You know how warmly he has wished Mr. Bulstrode for a son, and can excuse that preference; but he desired me, not ten minutes since, as he left me, after giving me a kiss and his blessing, to send for you, and to say that he shall hereafter look upon you as my and his choice. Heaven alone knows whether we are to be permitted to meet again, dear Corny; but, should that never be granted us, I feel it will relieve your mind to know that we shall meet as the members of one family.”
“We are the only children of our parents, Anneke, and our union will gladden their hearts almost as much as it can gladden our own.”
“I have thought of this, already. I shall have a mother, now; a blessing I hardly ever knew!”
“And one that will dearly, dearly love you, as I know by her own opinions, again and again expressed in my presence.”
“Thank you, Corny—and thanks to that respected parent, too. Now, go, Corny; I am fearful this selfish gratification only adds to the danger of the house—go; I will pray for your safety.”