CHAPTER XLVI
THE little party at the hosier's house sat at table discussing therecent event, when their mother returned, and, casting a piercing glanceall round the little circle, laid the letter flat on the table. Sherepeated every word of it by memory, following the lines with herfinger, to cheat herself and hearers into the notion that she could readthe words or nearly. Then, suddenly lifting her head, she cast anotherkeen look on Cornelis and Sybrandt: their eyes fell.
On this the storm that had long been brewing burst on their heads.
Catherine seemed to swell like an angry hen ruffling her feathers, andout of her mouth came a Rhone and Saone of wisdom and twaddle, of greatand mean invective, such as no male that ever was born could utter inone current; and not many women.
The following is a fair though a small sample of her words: only theywere uttered all in one breath:--
"I have long had my doubts that you blew the flame betwixt Gerard andyour father, and set that old rogue, Ghysbrecht, on. And now here areGerard's own written words to prove it. You have driven your own fleshand blood into a far land, and robbed the mother that bore you of herdarling, the pride of her eye, the joy of her heart. But you are all ofa piece from end to end. When you were all boys together, my others werea comfort; but you were a curse: mischievous and sly; and took a womanhalf a day to keep your clothes whole: for why? work wears cloth, butplay cuts it. With the beard comes prudence: but none came to you: stillthe last to go to bed, and the last to leave it; and why? becausehonesty goes to bed early, and industry rises betimes; where there aretwo lie-abeds in a house there are a pair of ne'er-do-weels. Often I'vesat and looked at your ways, and wondered where ye came from: ye don'ttake after your father, and ye are no more like me than a wasp is to anant; sure ye were changed in the cradle, or the cuckoo dropped ye on myfloor: for ye have not our hands, nor our hearts: of all my blood nonebut you ever jeered them that God afflicted; but often when my back wasturned I've heard you mock at Giles, because he is not so big as some;and at my lily Kate, because she is not so strong as a Flanders mare.After that rob a church an you will! for you can be no worse in His eyesthat made both Kate and Giles, and in mine that suffered for them, poordarlings, as I did for you, you paltry, unfeeling, treasonable curs! No,I will not hush, my daughter; they have filled the cup too full. Ittakes a deal to turn a mother's heart against the sons she has nursedupon her knees; and many is the time I have winked and wouldn't see toomuch, and bitten my tongue, lest their father should know them as I do;he would have put them to the door that moment. But now they have filledthe cup too full. And where got ye all this money? For this last monthyou have been rolling in it. You never wrought for it. I wish I maynever hear from other mouths how ye got it. It is since that night youwere out so late, and _your_ head came back so swelled, Cornelis. Slothand greed are ill mated, my masters. Lovers of money must sweat orsteal. Well, if you robbed any poor soul of it, it was some woman, I'llgo bail; for a man would drive you with his naked hand. No matter; itis good for one thing. It has shown me how you will guide our gear ifever it comes to be yourn. I have watched you, my lads, this while. Youhave spent a groat to-day between you. And I spend scarce a groat aweek, and keep you all, good _and_ bad. No! give up waiting for theshoes that will maybe walk behind your coffin; for this shop and thishouse shall never be yourn. Gerard is our heir: poor Gerard whom youhave banished and done your best to kill; after that never call memother again! But you have made him tenfold dearer to me. My poor lostboy! I shall soon see him again; shall hold him in my arms, and set himon my knees. Ay, you may stare! You are too crafty, and yet not craftyenow. You cut the stalk away; but you left the seed--the seed that shalloutgrow you, and outlive you. Margaret Brandt is quick, and it isGerard's, and what is Gerard's is mine; and I have prayed the saints itmay be a boy: and it will--it must. Kate, when I found it was so, mybowels yearned over her child unborn as if it had been my own. He is ourheir. He will outlive us. You will not: for a bad heart in a carcass islike the worm in a nut, soon brings the body to dust. So, Kate, takedown Gerard's bib and tucker that are in the drawer you wot of, and oneof these days we will carry them to Sevenbergen. We will borrow PeterBuyskens' cart, and go comfort Gerard's wife under her burden. She ishis wife. Who is Ghysbrecht Van Swieten? Can he come between a coupleand the altar, and sunder those that God and the priest make one? She ismy daughter, and I am as proud of her as I am of you, Kate, almost; andas for _you_, keep out of my way awhile: for you are like the black dogin my eyes."
Cornelis and Sybrandt took the hint and slunk out, aching with remorse,and impenitence, and hate. They avoided her eye as much as ever theycould: and for many days she never spoke a word good, bad, orindifferent, to either of them. Liberaverat animum suum.
The Cloister and the Hearth: A Tale of the Middle Ages Page 47
