"It cannot be, Antonia"—
"Yes, it is Mynheer Bronck's hand," whispered Antonia, subduing herself to take admonition from the grim digits.
"Lock it up; and come directly away from it. Come out of this room. You have opened a grave here."
VI.
THE MENDING.
But Antonia delayed to set in order her hair and cap and all her methodical habits of life. When Jonas Bronck's hand was snugly locked in its case and no longer obliged her to look at it, she took a pensive pleasure in the relic, bred of usage to its company. She came out of her chamber erect and calm. Marie was at the stairs speaking to the soldier stationed in the hall below. He had just piled up his fire, and its homely splendor sent back to remoteness all human dreads. He hurried up the stairway to his lady.
"Go knock at the door of the priest, Father Jogues, and demand his cassock," she said.
"What shall I do with it?"