The Cloister and the Hearth

C >> Charles Reade >> The Cloister and the Hearth


But all our joys, however elevating, suffer interruption. Little Kate
caught Sampsonet in this posture, and stood aghast. She was her mother's
daughter, and her heart was with the furniture, not with the 12mo
gymnast.

"Oh, Giles! how can you? Mother is at hand. It dents the table."

"Go and tell her, little tale-bearer," snarled Giles. "You are the one
for making mischief."

"Am I?" inquired Kate calmly; "that is news to me."

"The biggest in Tergou," growled Giles, fastening on again.

"Oh, indeed!" said Kate drily.

This piece of unwonted satire launched, and Giles not visibly blasted,
she sat down quietly and cried.

Her mother came in almost at that moment, and Giles hurled himself under
the table, and there glared.

"What is to do now?" said the dame sharply. Then turning her experienced
eyes from Kate to Giles, and observing the position he had taken up, and
a sheepish expression, she hinted at cuffing of ears.

"Nay, mother," said the girl; "it was but a foolish word Giles spoke.
I had not noticed it at another time; but I was tired and in care for
Gerard, you know."

"Let no one be in care for me," said a faint voice at the door, and in
tottered Gerard, pale, dusty, and worn out; and amidst uplifted hands
and cries of delight, curiosity, and anxiety mingled, dropped exhausted
into the nearest chair.

Beating Rotterdam, like a covert, for Margaret, and the long journey
afterwards, had fairly knocked Gerard up. But elastic youth soon
revived, and behold him the centre of an eager circle. First of all they
must hear about the prizes. Then Gerard told them he had been admitted
to see the competitors' works, all laid out in an enormous hall before
the judges pronounced.

"Oh, mother! oh, Kate! when I saw the goldsmiths' work, I had liked to
have fallen on the floor. I thought not all the goldsmiths on earth had
so much gold, silver, jewels, and craft of design and facture. But, in
sooth, all the arts are divine."

Then, to please the females, he described to them the reliquaries,
feretories, calices, crosiers, crosses, pyxes, monstrances, and other
wonders ecclesiastical, and the goblets, hanaps, watches, Clocks,
chains, brooches, &c., so that their mouths watered.

"But, Kate, when I came to the illuminated work from Ghent and Bruges,
my heart sank. Mine was dirt by the side of it. For the first minute I
could almost have cried; but I prayed for a better spirit, and presently
I was able to enjoy them, and thank God for those lovely works, and
for those skilful, patient craftsmen, whom I own my masters. Well, the
coloured work was so beautiful I forgot all about the black and white.
But next day, when all the other prizes had been given, they came to the
writing, and whose name think you was called first?"

"Yours," said Kate.

The others laugher her to scorn.

"You may well laugh," said Gerard, "but for all that, Gerard Eliassoen
of Tergou was the name the herald shouted. I stood stupid; they thrust
me forward. Everything swam before my eyes. I found myself kneeling on
a cushion at the feet of the Duke. He said something to me, but I was so
fluttered I could not answer him. So then he put his hand to his side,
and did not draw a glaive and cut off my dull head, but gave me a gold
medal, and there it is." There was a yell and almost a scramble. "And
then he gave me fifteen great bright golden angels. I had seen one
before, but I never handled one. Here they are."

"Oh, Gerard! oh, Gerard!"

"There is one for you, our eldest; and one for you, Sybrandt, and for
you, Little Mischief; and two for thee, Little Lily, because God hath
afflicted thee; and one for myself, to buy colours and vellum; and nine
for her that nursed us all, and risked the two crowns upon poor Gerard's
hand."

The gold drew out their characters. Cornelis and Sybrandt clutched each
his coin with one glare of greediness and another glare of envy at Kate,
who had got two pieces. Giles seized his and rolled it along the floor
and gambolled after it. Kate put down her crutches and sat down, and
held out her little arms to Gerard with a heavenly gesture of love and
tenderness; and the mother, fairly benumbed at first by the shower of
gold that fell on her apron, now cried out, "Leave kissing him, Kate;
he is my son, not yours. Ah. Gerard! my boy! I have not loved you as you
deserved."

Then Gerard threw himself on his knees beside her, and she flung her
arms round him and wept for joy and pride upon his neck.

"Good lad! good lad!" cried the hosier, with some emotion. "I must go
and tell the neighbours. Lend me the medal, Gerard; I'll show it my good
friend Peter Buyskens; he is ever regaling me with how his son Jorian
won the tin mug a shooting at the butts."

"Ay, do, my man; and show Peter Buyskens one of the angels. Tell him
there are fourteen more where that came from. Mind you bring it me
back!"

"Stay a minute, father; there is better news behind," said Gerard,
flushing with joy at the joy he caused.

"Better! better than this?"

Then Gerard told his interview with the Countess, and the house rang
with joy.

"Now, God bless the good lady, and bless the dame Van Eyck! A benefice?
our son! My cares are at an end. Eli, my good friend and master, now we
two can die happy whenever our time comes. This dear boy will take our
place, and none of these loved ones will want a home or a friend."

From that hour Gerard was looked upon as the stay of the family. He
was a son apart, but in another sense. He was always in the right, and
nothing too good for him. Cornelis and Sybrandt became more and more
jealous of him, and longed for the day he should go to his benefice;
they would get rid of the favourite, and his reverence's purse would be
open to them. With these views he co-operated. The wound love had
given him throbbed duller and duller. His success and the affection and
admiration of his parents made him think more highly of himself, and
resent with more spirit Margaret's ingratitude and discourtesy. For all
that, she had power to cool him towards the rest of her sex, and now for
every reason he wished to be ordained priest as soon as he could pass
the intermediate orders. He knew the Vulgate already better than most of
the clergy, and studied the rubric and the dogmas of the Church with
his friends the monks; and, the first time the bishop came that way, he
applied to be admitted "exorcist," the third step in holy orders. The
bishop questioned him, and ordained him at once. He had to kneel, and,
after a short prayer, the bishop delivered to him a little MS. full of
exorcisms, and said: "Take this, Gerard, and have power to lay hands
on the possessed, whether baptized or catechumens!" and he took it
reverently, and went home invested by the Church with power to cast out
demons.

Returning home from the church, he was met by little Kate on her
crutches.

"Oh, Gerard! who, think you, hath sent to our house seeking you?--the
burgomaster himself."

"Ghysbrecht Van Swieten! What would he with me?"

"Nay, Gerard, I know not. But he seems urgent to see you. You are to go
to his house on the instant."

"Well, he is the burgomaster: I will go; but it likes me not. Kate, I
have seen him cast such a look on me as no friend casts. No matter; such
looks forewarn the wise. To be sure, he knows."

"Knows what, Gerard?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Kate, I'll go."



CHAPTER V

Ghysbrecht Van Swieten was an artful man. He opened on the novice with
something quite wide of the mark he was really aiming at. "The town
records," said he, "are crabbedly written, and the ink rusty with age."
He offered Gerard the honour of transcribing them fair.

Gerard inquired what he was to be paid.

Ghysbrecht offered a sum that would have just purchased the pens, ink,
and parchment.

"But, burgomaster, my labour? Here is a year's work."

"Your labour? Call you marking parchment labour? Little sweat goes to
that, I trow."

"'Tis labour, and skilled labour to boot; and that is better paid in all
crafts than rude labour, sweat or no sweat. Besides, there's my time."

"Your time? Why, what is time to you, at two-and-twenty?" Then fixing
his eyes keenly on Gerard, to mark the effect of his words, he said:
"Say, rather, you are idle grown. You are in love. Your body is with
these chanting monks, but your heart is with Peter Brandt and his
red-haired girl."

"I know no Peter Brandt."

This denial confirmed Ghysbrecht's suspicion that the caster-out of
demons was playing a deep game.

"Ye lie!" he shouted. "Did I not find you at her elbow on the road to
Rotterdam?"

"Ah!"

"Ah! And you were seen at Sevenbergen but t'other day."

"Was I?'

"Ah and at Peter's house."

"At Sevenbergen?"

"Ay, at Sevenbergen."

Now, this was what in modern days is called a draw. It was a guess, put
boldly forth as fact, to elicit by the young man's answer whether he had
been there lately or not.

The result of the artifice surprised the crafty one. Gerard started up
in a strange state of nervous excitement.

"Burgomaster," said he, with trembling voice, "I have not been at
Sevenbergen these three years, and I know not the name of those you saw
me with, nor where they dwelt; but, as my time is precious, though
you value it not, give you good day." And he darted out, with his eyes
sparkling.

Ghysbrecht started up in huge ire; but he sank into his chair again.

"He fears me not. He knows something, if not all."

Then he called hastily to his trusty servant, and almost dragged him to
a window.

"See you yon man?" he cried. "Haste! follow him! But let him not see
you. He is young, but old in craft. Keep him in sight all day. Let me
know whither he goes, and what he does."

It was night when the servant returned.

"Well? well?" cried Van Swieten eagerly.

"Master, the young man went from you to Sevenbergen."

Ghysbrecht groaned.

"To the house of Peter the Magician."



CHAPTER VI

"Look into your own heart and write!" said Herr Cant; and earth's
cuckoos echoed the cry. Look into the Rhine where it is deepest, and the
Thames where it is thickest, and paint the bottom. Lower a bucket into
a well of self-deception, and what comes up must be immortal truth,
mustn't it? Now, in the first place, no son of Adam ever reads his own
heart at all, except by the habit acquired, and the light gained, from
some years perusal of other hearts; and even then, with his acquired
sagacity and reflected light, he can but spell and decipher his own
heart, not read it fluently. Half way to Sevenbergen Gerard looked into
his own heart, and asked it why he was going to Sevenbergen. His heart
replied without a moment's hesitation, "We are going out of curiosity
to know why she jilted us, and to show her it has not broken our hearts,
and that we are quite content with our honours and our benefice in
prospectu, and don't want her nor ally of her fickle sex."

He soon found out Peter Brandt's cottage; and there sat a girl in the
doorway, plying her needle, and a stalwart figure leaned on a long bow
and talked to her. Gerard felt an unaccountable pang at the sight of
him. However, the man turned out to be past fifty years of age, an old
soldier, whom Gerard remembered to have seen shoot at the butts with
admirable force and skill. Another minute and the youth stood before
them. Margaret looked up and dropped her work, and uttered a faint cry,
and was white and red by turns. But these signs of emotion were swiftly
dismissed, and she turned far more chill and indifferent than she would
if she had not betrayed this agitation.

"What! is it you, Master Gerard? What on earth brings you here, I
wonder?"

"I was passing by and saw you; so I thought I would give you good day,
and ask after your father."

"My father is well. He will be here anon."

"Then I may as well stay till he comes."

"As you will. Good Martin, step into the village and tell my father here
is a friend of his."

"And not of yours?"

"My father's friends are mine."

"That is doubtful. It was not like a friend to promise to wait for me,
and then make off the moment my back was turned. Cruel Margaret you
little know how I searched the town for you; how for want of you nothing
was pleasant to me."

"These are idle words; if you had desired my father's company, or mine,
you would have come back. There I had a bed laid for you, sir, at my
cousin's, and he would have made much of you, and, who knows, I might
have made much of you too. I was in the humour that day. You will
not catch me in the same mind again, neither you nor any young man, I
warrant me."

"Margaret, I came back the moment the Countess let me go; but you were
not there."

"Nay, you did not, or you had seen Hans Cloterman at our table; we left
him to bring you on."

"I saw no one there, but only a drunken man, that had just tumbled
down."

"At our table? How was he clad?"

"Nay, I took little heed: in sad-coloured garb."

At this Margaret's face gradually warmed; but presently, assuming
incredulity and severity, she put many shrewd questions, all of which
Gerard answered most loyally. Finally, the clouds cleared, and they
guessed how the misunderstanding had come about. Then came a revulsion
of tenderness, all the more powerful that they had done each other
wrong; and then, more dangerous still, came mutual confessions. Neither
had been happy since; neither ever would have been happy but for this
fortunate meeting.

And Gerard found a MS. Vulgate lying open on the table, and pounced upon
it like a hawk. MSS. were his delight; but before he could get to it two
white hands quickly came flat upon the page, and a red face over them.

"Nay, take away your hands, Margaret, that I may see where you are
reading, and I will read there too at home; so shall my soul meet yours
in the sacred page. You will not? Nay, then I must kiss them away." And
he kissed them so often, that for very shame they were fain to withdraw,
and, lo! the sacred book lay open at,

"An apple of gold in a network of silver."

"There, now," said she, "I had been hunting for it ever so long,
and found it but even now--and to be caught!" and with a touch of
inconsistency she pointed it out to Gerard with her white finger.

"Ay," said he, "but to-day it is all hidden in that great cap."

"It is a comely cap, I'm told by some."

"Maybe; but what it hides is beautiful."

"It is not: it is hideous."

"Well, it was beautiful at Rotterdam."

"Ay, everything was beautiful that day" (with a little sigh).

And now Peter came in, and welcomed Gerard cordially, and would have him
to stay supper. And Margaret disappeared; and Gerard had a nice learned
chat with Peter; and Margaret reappeared with her hair in her silver
net, and shot a glance half arch, half coy, and glided about them, and
spread supper, and beamed bright with gaiety and happiness. And in
the cool evening Gerard coaxed her out, and she objected and came; and
coaxed her on to the road to Tergou, and she declined, and came; and
there they strolled up and down, hand in hand; and when he must go, they
pledged each other never to quarrel or misunderstand one another again;
and they sealed the promise with a long loving kiss, and Gerard went
home on wings.

From that day Gerard spent most of his evenings with Margaret, and the
attachment deepened and deepened on both sides, till the hours they
spent together were the hours they lived; the rest they counted and
underwent. And at the outset of this deep attachment all went smoothly.
Obstacles there were, but they seemed distant and small to the eyes of
hope, youth, and love. The feelings and passions of so many persons,
that this attachment would thwart, gave no warning smoke to show
their volcanic nature and power. The course of true love ran smoothly,
placidly, until it had drawn these two young hearts into its current for
ever.

And then--



CHAPTER VII

One bright morning unwonted velvet shone, unwonted feathers waved, and
horses' hoofs glinted and ran through the streets of Tergou, and the
windows and balconies were studded with wondering faces. The French
ambassador was riding through to sport in the neighbouring forest.

Besides his own suite, he was attended by several servants of the Duke
of Burgundy, lent to do him honour and minister to his pleasure. The
Duke's tumbler rode before him with a grave, sedate majesty, that made
his more noble companions seem light, frivolous persons. But ever and
anon, when respect and awe neared the oppressive, he rolled off his
horse so ignobly and funnily, that even the ambassador was fain' to
burst out laughing. He also climbed up again by the tail in a way
provocative of mirth, and so he played his part. Towards the rear of the
pageant rode one that excited more attention still--the Duke's leopard.
A huntsman, mounted on a Flemish horse of giant prodigious size and
power, carried a long box fastened to the rider's loins by straps
curiously contrived, and on this box sat a bright leopard crouching.
She was chained to the huntsman. The people admired her glossy hide
and spots, and pressed near, and one or two were for feeling her,
and pulling her tail; then the huntsman shouted in a terrible voice,
"Beware! At Antwerp one did but throw a handful of dust at her, and the
Duke made dust of him."

"Gramercy!"

"I speak sooth. The good Duke shut him up in prison, in a cell under
ground, and the rats cleaned the flesh off his bones in a night. Served
him right for molesting the poor thing."

There was a murmur of fear, and the Tergovians shrank from tickling the
leopard of their sovereign.

But an incident followed that raised their spirits again. The Duke's
giant, a Hungarian seven feet four inches high, brought up the rear.
This enormous creature had, like some other giants, a treble, fluty
voice of little power. He was a vain fellow, and not conscious of this
nor any defect. Now it happened he caught sight of Giles sitting on the
top of the balcony; so he stopped and began to make fun of him.

"Hallo! brother!" squeaked he, "I had nearly passed without seeing
thee."

"You are plain enough to see," bellowed Giles in his bass tones.

"Come on my shoulder, brother," squeaked Titan, and held out a shoulder
of mutton fist to help him down.

"If I do I'll cuff your ears," roared the dwarf.

The giant saw the homuncule was irascible, and played upon him, being
encouraged thereto by the shouts of laughter. For he did not see
that the people were laughing not at his wit, but at the ridiculous
incongruity of the two voices--the gigantic feeble fife, and the petty
deep, loud drum, the mountain delivered of a squeak, and the mole-hill
belching thunder.

The singular duet came to as singular an end. Giles lost all patience
and self-command, and being a creature devoid of fear, and in a rage to
boot, he actually dropped upon the giant's neck, seized his hair with
one hand, and punched his head with the other. The giant's first impulse
was to laugh, but the weight and rapidity of the blows soon corrected
that inclination.

"He! he! Ah! ha! hallo! oh! oh! Holy saints! here! help! or I must
throttle the imp. I can't! I'll split your skull against the--" and he
made a wild run backwards at the balcony. Giles saw his danger, seized
the balcony in time with both hands, and whipped over it just as the
giant's head came against it with a stunning crack. The people roared
with laughter and exultation at the address of their little champion.
The indignant giant seized two of the laughers, knocked them together
like dumb-bells, shook them and strewed them flat--Catherine shrieked
and threw her apron over Giles--then strode wrathfully away after the
party. This incident had consequences no one then present foresaw. Its
immediate results were agreeable. The Tergovians turned proud of Giles,
and listened with more affability to his prayers for parchment. For
he drove a regular trade with his brother Gerard in this article. Went
about and begged it gratis, and Gerard gave him coppers for it.

On the afternoon of the same day, Catherine and her daughter were
chatting together about their favourite theme, Gerard, his goodness, his
benefice, and the brightened prospects of the whole family.

Their good luck had come to them in the very shape they would have
chosen; besides the advantages of a benefice such as the Countess
Charolois would not disdain to give, there was the feminine delight
at having a priest, a holy man, in their own family. "He will marry
Cornelis and Sybrandt: for they can wed (good housewives), now, if they
will. Gerard will take care of you and Giles, when we are gone."

"Yes, mother, and we can confess to him instead of to a stranger," said
Kate.

"Ay, girl! and he can give the sacred oil to your father and me, and
close our eyes when our time comes."

"Oh, mother! not for many, many years, I do pray Heaven. Pray speak not
of that, it always makes me sad. I hope to go before you, mother dear.
No; let us be gay to-day. I am out of pain, mother, quite out of
all pain; it does seem so strange; and I feel so bright and happy,
that--mother, Can you keep a secret?"

"Nobody better, child. Why, you know I can."

"Then I will show you something so beautiful. You never saw the like, I
trow. Only Gerard must never know; for sure he means to surprise us with
it; he covers it up so, and sometimes he carries it away altogether."

Kate took her crutches, and moved slowly away, leaving her mother in an
exalted state of curiosity. She soon returned with something in a cloth,
uncovered it, and there was a lovely picture of the Virgin, with all her
insignia, and wearing her tiara over a wealth of beautiful hair, which
flowed loose over her shoulders. Catherine, at first, was struck with
awe.

"It is herself," she cried; "it is the Queen of Heaven. I never saw one
like her to my mind before."

"And her eyes, mother: lifted to the sky, as if they belonged there, and
not to a mortal creature. And her beautiful hair of burning gold."

"And to think I have a son that can make the saints live again upon a
piece of wood!"

"The reason is, he is a young saint himself, mother. He is too good for
this world; he is here to portray the blessed, and then to go away and
be with them for ever."

Ere they had half done admiring it, a strange voice was heard at the
door. By one of the furtive instincts of their sex they hastily hid the
picture in the cloth, though there was no need, And the next moment in
came, casting his eyes furtively around, a man that had not entered the
house this ten years Ghysbrecht Van Swieten.

The two women were so taken by surprise, that they merely stared at
him and at one another, and said, "The burgomaster!" in a tone so
expressive, that Ghysbrecht felt compelled to answer it.

"Yes! I own the last time I came here was not on a friendly errand. Men
love their own interest--Eli's and mine were contrary. Well, let this
visit atone the last. To-day I come on your business and none of mine."
Catherine and her daughter exchanged a swift glance of contemptuous
incredulity. They knew the man better than he thought.

"It is about your son Gerard."

"Ay! ay! you want him to work for the town all for nothing. He told us."

"I come on no such errand. It is to let you know he has fallen into bad
hands."

"Now Heaven and the saints forbid! Man, torture not a mother! Speak out,
and quickly: speak ere you have time to coin falsehood: we know thee."

Ghysbrecht turned pale at this affront, and spite mingled with the other
motives that brought him here. "Thus it is, then," said he, grinding his
teeth and speaking very fast. "Your son Gerard is more like to be father
of a family than a priest: he is for ever with Margaret, Peter Brandt's
red-haired girl, and loves her like a cow her calf."

Mother and daughter both burst out laughing. Ghysbrecht stared at them.

"What! you knew it?"

"Carry this tale to those who know not my son, Gerard. Women are nought
to him."

"Other women, mayhap. But this one is the apple of his eye to him, or
will be, if you part them not, and soon. Come, dame, make me not waste
time and friendly counsel: my servant has seen them together a score
times, handed, and reading babies in one another's eyes like--you know,
dame--you have been young, too."

"Girl, I am ill at ease. Yea, I have been young, and know how blind
and foolish the young are. My heart! he has turned me sick in a moment.
Kate, if it should be true?"

"Nay, nay!" cried Kate eagerly. "Gerard might love a young woman: all
young men do: I can't find what they see in them to love so; but if he
did, he would let us know; he would not deceive us. You wicked man!
No, dear mother, look not so! Gerard is too good to love a creature of
earth. His love is for our Lady and the saints. Ah! I will show you the
picture there: if his heart was earthly, could he paint the Queen
of Heaven like that--look! look!" and she held the picture out
triumphantly, and, more radiant and beautiful in this moment of
enthusiasm than ever dead picture was or will be, over-powered the
burgomaster with her eloquence and her feminine proof of Gerard's
purity. His eyes and mouth opened, and remained open: in which state
they kept turning, face and all as if on a pivot, from the picture to
the women, and from the women to the picture.