I looked at the old gentleman, who smiled on me benignly, as if confident in his knowledge of the heart of woman, and wondered whether he could by any possibility be right. Or was he deluding himself about his daughter's happiness, because he longed so much himself to be restored to home and friends and congenial pursuits? It might be true enough that Anna did not really love me, that I could well believe; but it was incredible she could love a beast like Vliet. While I sat silent, word was brought of Vermuijden's arrival, and of his wish to see the doctor and Anna. So I was left alone to ruminate. Some things which the doctor had said puzzled me not a little. As for what he had spoken against the Isle, I cared not a jot, nor was I much troubled about the low state of my fortune, which, in my youthful confidence, I hoped to mend in no long time. Could he be speaking truth when he said that Anna really chose to become the wife of Vliet? That was the question. I could not but think that her avoidance of me pointed that way. And yet, what passed near the gallows looked rather as if she gave her word to Vliet out of pure desire to save my life. But that promise, extorted under threat, and a threat which Vliet himself could not in his sober senses attempt to justify, could not be held binding. It was absurd to think it a sacred pledge. Nor could I believe Anna light-minded and fickle, even if her father accused her. Only one thing was clear to me—that I must have speech with Anna. While I sat pondering, I heard a knock at the door, and the buxom Martha came in to say Luke had returned and awaited my pleasure. Her bright, honest face was good to see, and I fell into talk with her. I asked her whether she had heard what passed between Mistress Goel and Vliet last evening.
"Nearly all, sir," she answered, "and wished I was a man for the first time in my life."
"Why so?"
"That I might have the strength to kill him then and there for torturing the brightest, sweetest lady on earth."
"He demanded a promise that she would marry him within three months, did he not?"
"Oh yes. He took no heed of reason or warning. He said you should die, whatever might afterwards happen to him, unless she gave him her word on the spot before witnesses."
"And Doctor Goel can think his daughter will be happy with him!" I said to myself, in amazement.
"Oh, the doctor!" cried Martha contemptuously. "He has wasted his brains on weeds and creeping things, until he has none left to understand his fellow-creatures with. He thinks of Sebastian Vliet as he used to be, before his cheeks were bloated and his hands shaky. Then the doctor has lost his money, or as good as lost it, in this mad business, and he wants to make up the loss to my mistress. He thinks Vliet has plenty of it, and hasn't sense to see that money melts like snow in April, when it is in the hands of a drunken gambler. And that is what Vliet is. Every night, when Vermuijden is away, he is toping and playing—and losing, for the men he plays with know all his tricks and more. Then he is rooked by the lord who comes to see him, and by another rascal who fetches and carries for the lord. Vliet's money is going at a great rate. But what does Vliet matter?"
"He seems to be of some importance, since he has Mistress Goel's word to marry him, and her father is well pleased it should be so."
"And what does that avail against a gentleman who loves her? Every lover I've heard of snapped his fingers at foolish old people, pinked his rival, and rode off with the lady."