Notwithstanding all my efforts to appear calm and unconcerned, Overberg observed that the hard judgment passed on Francis had made a deep impression on my mind. Taking me aside, he whispered in my ear—

“We will talk this subject over to-morrow morning before your departure; in the meantime don’t let it trouble you. You know the proverb: ‘The devil’s not so black as he is painted.’”

It was easy for him to talk; but, alas! he knew not yet the reasons I had for being so deeply interested in this young lady.

I passed a restless night. In the morning, when the carriage I had ordered over-night drove up to the door, I was still debating in my own mind whether I should go to the Werve, or tell my driver to take me to the nearest station and return to the Hague. After a few minutes, however, Overberg made his appearance, and accosted me in the following words—

“I believe I have guessed your noble intention, which is to make the acquaintance of Miss Mordaunt, and, if she please you, to remove all difficulties in the most amiable manner possible. I cannot tell you how praiseworthy, how wise and sensible, your plan seems to me; but what surprises me is that the testatrix never suggested it to you, she being a woman of such clear and sound judgment in matters of this sort.”

“She has given me such a hint—I will no longer try to conceal it from you—and it was my intention to follow her advice. But what I heard last night has quite changed my mind on that point.”

“Nonsense! Never let gossip have any influence over you. Remember that people living in a small town are possessed by the evil spirit of slander, and furthermore, that they express their opinions in a very crude manner.”

“That’s all well and good; but in a small town where every one is known by his neighbour, people would not dare to calumniate and slander each other without grounds.”

“I will not attempt to contradict your statement; but let me remind you that certain uncommon occurrences and eccentric acts on the part of a young lady may be explained in different ways, and why should you believe the worse account of them, coloured as it certainly is by envy, hatred, and malice. I willingly confess I could not contradict all that was said about Miss Mordaunt last night; my business has always been with her grandfather, who speaks of her in the highest terms. For this reason I could not foresee that the ladies would be so severe on her conduct. Otherwise I should have avoided the subject, and made inquiries for you of people less prejudiced and more trustworthy.”

“Do you know any such people here?”

“Such people can be found. Why, in my professional career, I have so often seen the most wicked accusations burst like a soap-bubble when submitted to the touchstone of cross-examination, that now I believe nothing which I have not seen with my own eyes, or for which I have not proofs equal to the same.”

“Then with regard to the diamonds, you have some certain proofs?” I asked.

“You are right; I was engaged in that business. The young lady required more money than the goldsmith was willing to advance on them; and they were never offered for sale unless he took such a liberty during the hour he had them in his possession. In her difficulties she came to me, her grandfather’s lawyer. I obtained the money from Miss Roselaer, as I always did for the General, and she refused either to take the diamonds or accept the interest on the money she lent; consequently the diamonds are still in my possession.”

“And do you know for what purpose this money was required?”

“It was to assist a person who dared not apply to the General (and, between you and me, the General had not a penny to assist any one with). What the relationship between them was I am unable to say. The stranger only stayed four days in the village, and I did not see him myself. Of course I have heard the flying reports. Some people say he was dressed like a gentleman, and had a gentleman’s manners; others, on the contrary, describe him as a rogue and a vagabond, who got drunk in the lowest public-houses in the place. This latter account may also be true, for, as you know, a woman’s sympathy is often bestowed on the most undeserving creatures.”

“With regard to the coachman, you must allow her womanly sympathy does not show itself in a favourable light,” I interposed, with a certain bitterness in my tone.

“I am unacquainted with the facts of that case. Still, I fancy it is far from such a bad case as the amiable ladies made it out to be; and in your place I should not suffer it to interfere with my projected visit to the Werve. Miss Mordaunt has been accused, in my presence, of brusque manners, imprudent behaviour, and so forth; but she is renowned for her plain and straightforward dealing, which has brought her into disrepute with her female friends, they preferring to say the most impertinent things in the blandest tone possible. I am sure you will find out the truth if you ask her a plain question. Besides, a single visit will not commit you to anything, and an interview with the General to arrange matters will be absolutely necessary.”

There was no refuting Overberg’s line of argument. I confessed to myself that it would be unfair on my part to form an opinion until after a personal interview and further inquiries. So, accepting his advice, I stepped into the carriage, and ordered the driver to take the road to the Castle de Werve.

The morning was raw and cold, without sun, and the air was so heavy that I did not know whether to expect snow or hail. At the toll-bar my driver made inquiries about a short cut through a lane planted with poplars, which would bring us out near the “fir wood.”

As the country was very monotonous, and there was nothing to attract my attention, I sank into deep thought, and began arranging a plan for my conduct on first meeting with my cousin, a little speech to be made when I was presented to her, and so forth. But then it occurred to me that our best-laid schemes are generally thrown into confusion by the circumstances of the event: how much more likely was this to be the case in dealing with such a whimsical person as Francis? Accordingly, I gave up all such ideas as preparing myself for the occasion, resolving only to keep cool and act according to circumstances.

In the midst of these thoughts the carriage suddenly came to a standstill, and the driver pointed out to me that the lane terminated in a half-circle—he had taken the lane on the wrong side of the wood. Whilst speaking we heard a horse galloping behind us, and in another moment it shot past us like lightning.

“That’s Major Frank!” said the driver.

“Major Frank,” I repeated, in a tone of anger and surprise. “Whom do you mean by that?”

“Why, the young lady of the Castle. They call her so in our village, when she comes to see the boy.”

Cutting short the conversation, I ordered him to find his way to the Castle as soon as possible. A few minutes later, however, he had got his carriage on such marshy ground that he was obliged to request me to walk until he could lead his horse on to a firmer place.