During this conversation it occurred to Philip that, if Mynheer Poots
could only be led to suppose that he took away his money with him,
there would be more quiet for Amine, who was now obliged, as she had
informed him, to be constantly on the watch. He determined, therefore,
when he next departed, to make the doctor believe that he had taken
his wealth with him. Mynheer Poots did not renew the conversation, but sank into gloomy
thought. In a few minutes he left the parlour, and went up to his own
room, when Philip stated to his wife what had induced him to make the
old man believe that he should embark his property. "It was thoughtful of you, Philip, and I thank you for your kind
feeling towards me; but I wish you had said nothing on the subject. You do not know my father; I must now watch him as an enemy." "We have little to fear from an infirm old man," replied Philip,
laughing. But Amine thought otherwise, and was ever on her guard. The spring and summer passed rapidly away, for they were happy. Many
were the conversations between Philip and Amine, relative to what had
passed--the supernatural appearance of his father's ship, and the
fatal wreck. Amine felt that more dangers and difficulties were preparing for her
husband, but she never once attempted to dissuade him from renewing
his attempts in fulfilment of his vow. Like him, she looked forward
with hope and confidence, aware that, at some time, his fate must be
accomplished, and trusting only that that hour would be long delayed. At the close of the summer, Philip again went to Amsterdam, to procure
for himself a berth in one of the vessels which were to sail at the
approach of winter. The wreck of the _Ter Schilling_ was well known; and the circumstances
attending it, with the exception of the appearance of the Phantom
Ship, had been drawn up by Philip on his passage home, and
communicated to the Court of Directors. Not only on account of the
very creditable manner in which that report had been prepared, but
in consideration of his peculiar sufferings and escape, he had been
promised by the Company a berth, as second mate, on board of one of
their vessels, should he be again inclined to sail to the East Indies. Having called upon the Directors, he received his appointment to the
_Batavia_, a fine vessel of about 400 tons burden. Having effected his
purpose, Philip hastened back to Terneuse, and, in the presence of
Mynheer Poots, informed Amine of what he had done. "So you go to sea again?" observed Mynheer Poots. "Yes, but not for two months, I expect," replied Philip. "Ah!" replied Poots, "in two months!" and the old man muttered to
himself. How true it is that we can more easily bear up against a real evil
than against suspense! Let it not be supposed that Amine fretted
at the thought of her approaching separation from her husband; she
lamented it, but feeling his departure to be an imperious duty, and
having it ever in her mind, she bore up against her feelings, and
submitted, without repining, to what could not be averted. There was,
however, one circumstance, which caused her much uneasiness--that was
the temper and conduct of her father. Amine, who knew his character
well, perceived that he already secretly hated Philip, whom he
regarded as an obstacle to his obtaining possession of the money in
the house; for the old man was well aware that, if Philip were dead,
his daughter would care little who had possession of, or what became
of it. The thought that Philip was about to take that money with him
had almost turned the brain of the avaricious old man. He had been
watched by Amine, and she had seen him walk for hours muttering to
himself, and not, as usual, attending to his profession. A few evenings after his return from Amsterdam, Philip, who had taken
cold, complained of not being well. "Not well!" cried the old man, starting up; "let me see--yes, your
pulse is very quick. Amine, your poor husband is very ill. He must go
to bed, and I will give him something which will do him good. I shall
charge you nothing, Philip--nothing at all." "I do not feel so very unwell, Mynheer Poots," replied Philip; I have
had a bad headache certainly." "Yes, and you have fever also, Philip, and prevention is better than
cure; so go to bed, and take what I send you, and you will be well
to-morrow." Philip went upstairs, accompanied by Amine; and Mynheer Poots went
into his own room to prepare the medicine. So soon as Philip was in
bed, Amine went downstairs, and was met by her father, who put a
powder into her hands to give to her husband, and then left the
parlour. "God forgive me if I wrong my father," thought Amine; "but I have my
doubts. Philip is ill, more so than he will acknowledge; and if he
does not take some remedies, he may be worse--but my heart misgives
me--I have a foreboding. Yet surely he cannot be so diabolically
wicked." Amine examined the contents of the paper: it was a very small quantity
of dark brown powder, and, by the directions of Mynheer Poots, to be
given in a tumbler of warm wine. Mynheer Poots had offered to heat the
wine. His return from the kitchen broke Amine's meditations. "Here is the wine, my child; now give him a whole tumbler of wine, and
the powder, and let him be covered up warm, for the perspiration will
soon burst out, and it must not be checked. Watch him, Amine, and keep
the clothes on, and he will be well to-morrow morning." And Mynheer
Poots quitted the room, saying, "Good-night, my child." Amine poured out the powder into one of the silver mugs upon the
table, and then proceeded to mix it up with the wine. Her suspicions
had, for the time, been removed by the kind tone of her father's
voice. To do him justice as a medical practitioner, he appeared always
to be most careful of his patients. When Amine mixed the powder, she
examined and perceived that there was no sediment, and the wine was as
clear as before. This was unusual, and her suspicions revived. "I like it not," said she; "I fear my father--God help me!--I hardly
know what to do--I will not give it to Philip. The warm wine may
produce perspiration sufficient." Amine paused, and again reflected. She had mixed the powder with so
small a portion of wine that it did not fill a quarter of the cup; she
put it on one side, filled another up to the brim with the warm wine,
and then went up to the bedroom. On the landing-place she was met by her father, whom she supposed to
have retired to rest. "Take care you do not spill it, Amine. That is right, let him have a
whole cupful. Stop, give it to me; I will take it to him myself." Mynheer Poots took the cup from Amine's hands, and went into Philip's
room. "Here, my son, drink this off, and you will be well," said Mynheer
Poots, whose hand trembled so that he spilt the wine on the coverlet. Amine, who watched her father, was more than ever pleased that she had
not put the powder into the cup.