But I hear voices--it must
be your father and the authorities--I must go down and meet them." Philip rose, and went downstairs. Amine's eyes followed him as he
went, and she remained looking towards the door. "Is it possible," said she, sweeping the hair from off her brow, "so
soon,--yes, yes, 'tis even so. I feel that I would sooner share his
hidden woe--his dangers--even death itself were preferable with him,
than ease and happiness with any other. And it shall be strange indeed
if I do not. This night my father shall move into his cottage: I will
prepare at once." The report of Philip and Mynheer Poots was taken down by the
authorities, the bodies examined, and one or two of them recognised
as well-known marauders. They were then removed by the order of the
burgomaster. The authorities broke up their council, and Philip and
Mynheer Poots were permitted to return to Amine. It will not be
necessary to repeat the conversation which ensued: it will be
sufficient to state that Poots yielded to the arguments employed by
Amine and Philip, particularly the one of paying no rent. A conveyance
for the furniture and medicines was procured, and in the afternoon
most of the effects were taken away. It was not, however, till dusk
that the strong box of the doctor was put into the cart, and Philip
went with it as a protector. Amine also walked by the side of the
vehicle, with her father. As may be supposed, it was late that night
before they had made their arrangements, and had retired to rest. Chapter VI


"This, then, is the chamber which has so long been closed," said
Amine, on entering it the next morning, long before Philip had
awakened from the sound sleep produced by the watching of the night
before. "Yes, indeed, it has the air of having long been closed." Amine looked around her, and then examined the furniture. Her eyes
were attracted to the bird-cages; she looked into them:--"Poor little
things!" continued she, "and here it was his father appeared unto his
mother. Well, it may be so,--Philip saith that he hath proofs; and
why should he not appear? Were Philip dead, I should rejoice to
see his spirit,--at least it would be something. What am I
saying--unfaithful lips, thus to betray my secret?--The table thrown
over;--that looks like the work of fear; a workbox, with all its
implements scattered,--only a woman's fear: a mouse might have caused
all this; and yet there is something solemn in the simple fact that,
for so many years, not a living being has crossed these boards. Even
that a table thus overthrown could thus remain for years, seems
scarcely natural, and therefore has its power on the mind. I wonder
not that Philip feels there is so heavy a secret belonging to this
room--but it must not remain in this condition--it must be occupied at
once." Amine, who had long been accustomed to attend upon her father, and
perform the household duties, now commenced her intended labours. Every part of the room, and every piece of furniture in it, were
cleaned; even the cobwebs and dust were cleared away, and the sofa
and table brought from the corner to the centre of the room; the
melancholy little prisons were removed; and when Amine's work of
neatness was complete, and the sun shone brightly into the opened
window, the chamber wore the appearance of cheerfulness. Amine had the intuitive good sense to feel that strong impressions
wear away when the objects connected with them are removed. She
resolved then to make Philip more at ease; for, with all the fire and
warmth of blood inherent in her race, she had taken his image to her
heart, and was determined to win him. Again and again did she resume
her labour, until the pictures about the room, and every other
article, looked fresh and clean. Not only the bird-cages, but the workbox, and all the implements, were
removed; and the piece of embroidery, the taking up of which had made
Philip recoil, as if he had touched an adder, was put away with the
rest. Philip had left the keys on the floor. Amine opened the buffets,
cleaned the glazed doors, and was busy rubbing up the silver flagons
when her father came into the room. "Mercy on me!" exclaimed Mynheer Poots; "and is all that silver?--then
it must be true, and he has thousands of guilders; but where are
they?" "Never do you mind, father; yours are now safe, and for that you have
to thank Philip Vanderdecken." "Yes, very true; but as he is to live here--does he eat much--what
will he pay me? He ought to pay well, as he has so much money." Amine's lips were curled with a contemptuous smile, but she made no
reply. "I wonder where he keeps his money; and he is going to sea as soon as
he can get a ship? Who will have charge of his money when he goes?" "I shall take charge of it, father," replied Amine. "Ah--yes--well--we will take charge of it; the ship may be lost." "No, _we_ will not take charge of it, father; you will have nothing to
do with it. Look after your own." Amine placed the silver in the buffets, locked the doors, and took the
keys with her when she went out to prepare breakfast, leaving the old
man gazing through the glazed doors at the precious metal within. His
eyes were riveted upon it, and he could not remove them. Every minute
he muttered, "Yes, all silver." Philip came downstairs; and as he passed by the room, intending to go
into the kitchen, he perceived Mynheer Poots at the buffet, and he
walked into the room. He was surprised as well as pleased with the
alteration. He felt why and by whom it was done, and he was grateful. Amine came in with the breakfast, and their eyes spoke more than their
lips could have done; and Philip sat down to his meal with less of
sorrow and gloom upon his brow. "Mynheer Poots," said Philip, as soon as he had finished, "I intend
to leave you in possession of my cottage, and I trust you will find
yourself comfortable. What little arrangements are necessary, I will
confide to your daughter previous to my departure." "Then you leave us, Mr Philip, to go to sea? It must be pleasant to go
and see strange countries--much better than staying at home. When do
you go?" "I shall leave this evening for Amsterdam," replied Philip, "to make
my arrangements about a ship, but I shall return, I think, before I
sail." "Ah! you will return. Yes--you have your money and your goods to see
to; you must count your money--we will take good care of it. Where is
your money, Mr Vanderdecken?" "That I will communicate to your daughter this forenoon, before I
leave. In three weeks at the furthest you may expect me back." "Father," said Amine, "you promised to go and see the child of the
burgomaster; it is time you went." "Yes, yes--by-and-bye--all in good time; but I must wait the pleasure
of Mr Philip first--he has much to tell me before he goes." Philip could not help smiling when he remembered what had passed when
he first summoned Mynheer Poots to the cottage, but the remembrance
ended in sorrow and a clouded brow.