169 FAITH UNTO DEATH. 



my bride !" exclaimed he, in alarm : she gazed as one who heard 

 not — then broke silence and spoke. " Is it thee, Van Schooreel ? — 

 is it indeed thee that I behold ?" said she slowly, and in a hollow 

 and under-tone, in which there was something unnatural and 

 ominous -, and she scrutinized his features as she spoke, while a 

 shudder crept through her frame, " is it thee, truly ! or hath the 

 ocean given up thy corse only to re-visit these shades, and assure 

 me of thy fate ?" " What meanest thou, mine Unna ? why 

 ■wandereth thy speech ? — it is me — me — thine own — thy true and 

 faithful — thy lover — thine husband !" and he would have drawn 

 her to his bosom, but with a faint cry she eluded his arms ; 

 ** Approach not, I charge thee, Van Schooreel ! — nay, chide me not, 

 Hans ! — the ramour was false — thou art safe — thou yet livest ! 



and " " Now call thee my wife !" cried the lover, once more 



extending his arms : at this juncture, a sweet laugh burst on his 

 ears ; short steps hurried down the gravel-path, and, mounted on 

 a stick with a horse's head carved on the top, a gallant boy of some 

 four years of age, came joyously caracolling towards them. 

 ** Mother ! dear mother !" lisped out the urchin, prancing to Unna, 

 " dear mother !" but espying a stranger, he coloured, and half- 

 bashfully drew to her side. Schooreel stood aghast 5 had the 

 heavens dropped at his feet he would have noted it not, his eyes 

 were rivetted on the beautiful face of the boy — there were features 

 he dimly remembered, dark eyes, a broad brow, and hair black as 

 the wing of the raven — where — where had he seen similar ? His 

 tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth, his knees bowed under his 

 weight, a thick cloud came before him, heart and brain reeled, and 

 his soul was encompassed with the sickness of death j he staggered 

 and leaned against an elder tree for support j the boy ran to him, 

 " He is sick ! mother ! ah ! dear mother, how white and cold he 

 is !" and the soft warm hands of the child rubbed and fondled his 

 palm with infantine tenderness j Unna advanced to him, with a 

 brow marked with conflicting emotions, Hans motioned her away, 

 bitterness was in his spirit, and to him the wide world was but 

 loathing and agony. " Hear me !" cried Unna, beseechincrly — 

 " hear me Van Schooreel, I conjure thee ! " " Never," exclaimed 

 he, " never ! thou false one ! thou perjured !" he moved from her 

 in scorn, " Stay, Van Schooreel ! stay ! we entreat thee !" implored 

 a third voice — the tmhappy man turned with surprise j gazing on 

 him with deep sympathy, was the gallant — the mysterious Bohe- 

 mian. " Forgive me !" cried he, " forgive me for the fitfulness of 

 sudden and uncontrollable jealousy. Rumour played thee false, 

 and many mourned thee as dead who will now gladden to discover 

 thee alive. Here is one who wept for thee till the light dimmed in 

 her eyes, and the ruby fled from her lip ;" and the goldsmith 

 glanced with unspeakable tenderness upon Unna, who stood, pale 

 and motionless, at his side j " but thou wert given up," pursued 

 he, *' there were mariners who swore to the wrecking of the good 

 ship in which thou wert adventured, the billows of the Levant 

 were spoken of as thy grave, and Cornelitz shrunk, in his old age. 



