"Mijn kleintje, who has grieved thee?"

"O Bram! is he dead?"

"Who? Neil? I think he will get well once more."

"What care I for Neil? The wicked one! I wish that he might die. Yes,

that I do."

"Whish!--to say that is wrong."

"Bram! Bram! A little pity give me. It is the other one. Hast thou

heard?"

"How can he live? Look at that sorrow, dear one, and ask God to forgive

and help thee."

"No, I will not look at it. I will ask God every moment that he may get

well. Could I help that I should love him? So kind, so generous, is he!

Oh, my dear one, my dear one, would I had died for thee!"

Bram was much moved. Within the last twenty-four hours he had begun to

understand the temptation in which Katherine had been; begun to

understand that love never asks, 'What is thy name? Of what country art

thou? Who is thy father?' He felt that so long as he lived he must

remember Miriam Cohen as she stood talking to him in the shadowy store.

Beauty like hers was strange and wonderful to the young Dutchman. He

could not forget her large eyes, soft and brown as gazelle's; the warm

pallor and brilliant carnation of her complexion; her rosy, tender

mouth; her abundant black hair, fastened with large golden pins, studded

with jewels. He could not forget the grace of her figure, straight and

slim as a young palm-tree, clad in a plain dark garment, and a

neckerchief of white India silk falling away from her exquisite throat.

He did not yet know that he was in love; he only felt how sweet it was

to sit still and dream of the dim place, and the splendidly beautiful

girl standing among its piled-up furniture and its hanging draperies.

And this memory of Miriam made him very pitiful to Katherine.

"Every one is angry at me, Bram, even my father; and Batavius will not

sit on the chair at my side; and Joanna says a great disgrace I have

made for her. And thou? Wilt thou also scold me? I think I shall die of

grief."

"Scold thee, thou little one? That I will not. And those that are angry

with thee may be angry with me also. And if there is any comfort I can

get thee, tell thy brother Bram. He will count thee first, before all

others. How could they make thee weep? Cruel are they to do so. And as

for Batavius, mind him not. Not much I think of Batavius! If he says

this or that to thee, I will answer him."




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