"You must go and look for her," Anne suggested. "She should not be alone."
"Let her father go, or Master Bertie," I answered.
"Her father has gone down the river--to Arnheim, I expect; and Master Bertie is fishing in a boat somewhere. It will take time to find him. Why cannot you go? If she has crossed the footbridge she will not be far away."
She seemed so anxious as she spoke for the Dutch girl's safety, that she infected me with her fears, and I let myself be persuaded. After all there might be danger, and I did not see what else was to be done. Indeed, Mistress Anne did not leave me until she had seen me clear of the orchard and half across the meadows toward the footbridge. "Mind you bring her back," she cried after me. "Do not let her come alone!" And those were her last words.
After we had separated I did think for a moment that it was a pity I had not asked her to come with me. But the thought occurred too late, and I strode on toward the head of the bridge, resolving that, as soon as I had sighted Dymphna, I would keep away from her and content myself with watching over her from a distance. As I passed by the little cluster of cottages on the landward side of the island, I glanced sharply about me, for I thought it not unlikely that Master Van Tree might be lurking in the neighborhood. But I saw nothing either of her or him. All was quiet, the air full of spring sunshine and warmth and hope and the blossoms of fruit trees; and with an indefinable pleasure, a feeling of escape from control and restraint, I crossed the long footbridge, and set foot, almost for the first time since our arrival--for at Master Lindstrom's desire we had kept very close--on the river bank.
To the right a fair road or causeway along the waterside led to Arnheim. At the point where I stood, this road on its way from the city took a turn at right angles, running straight away from the river to avoid a wide track of swamp and mere which lay on my left--a quaking marsh many miles round, overgrown with tall rushes and sedges, which formed the head of the bay in which our island lay. I looked up the long, straight road to Arnheim, and saw only a group of travelers moving slowly along it, their backs toward me. The road before me was bare of passengers. Where, then, was Dymphna, if she had crossed the bridge? In the last resort I scanned the green expanse of rushes and willows, which stretched, with intervals of open water, as far as the eye could reach on my left. It was all rustling and shimmering in the light breeze, but my eye picked out one or two raised dykes which penetrated it here and there, and served at once as pathways to islets in the mere and as breastworks against further encroachments of the river. Presently, on one of these, of which the course was fairly defined by a line of willows, I made out the flutter of a woman's hood. And I remembered that the day before I had heard Dymphna express a wish to go to the marsh for some herb which grew there.
"Right!" I said, seating myself with much satisfaction on the last post of the bridge. "She is safe enough there! And I will go no nearer. It is only on the road she is likely to be in danger from our Spanish gallants!"
My eyes, released from duty, wandered idly over the landscape for a while, but presently returned to the dyke across the mere. I could not now see Dymphna. The willows hid her, and I waited for her to reappear. She did not, but some one else did; for by and by, on the same path and crossing an interval between the willows, there came into sight a man's form.
"Ho! ho!" I said, following it with my eyes. "So I may go home! Master Van Tree is on the track. And now I hope they will make it up!" I added pettishly.
Another second and I started up with a low cry. The sunlight had caught a part of the man's dress, a shining something which flashed back a point of intense light. The something I guessed at once was a corselet, and it needed scarce another thought to apprise me that Dymphna's follower was not Van Tree at all, but a Spanish soldier!