Gradually she receded, supposing that she had not been discovered, and closed the door quietly after her, leaving Ramsay for a few seconds at the glass, with his eyes fixed upon the point at which she had disappeared.

  Ramsay of course fell into a reverie, as most men do in a case of this kind; but he had not proceeded very far into it before he was interrupted by the appearance of the syndic, who entered by another door.

  “I am sorry to have been obliged to leave you to your own company, Mynheer Ramsay, so soon after your arrival; but my arrangement of time is regular, and I cannot make any alteration. Before you have been with us long, I trust that you will find means of amusement. I shall have great pleasure in introducing you to many friends whose time is not so occupied as mine. Once again let me say how happy I am to receive so distinguished a young gentleman under my roof. Did the cutter bring despatches for the States General, may I inquire?”

  “Yes,” replied Ramsay, “she did; and they are of some importance.”

  “Indeed!” rejoined mynheer, inquisitively.

  “My dear sir,” said Ramsay, blushing at his own falsehood, “we are, I believe, both earnest in one point, which is to strengthen the good cause. Under such an impression, and having accepted your hospitality, I have no right to withhold what I know, but with which others are not acquainted.”

  “My dear sir,” interrupted Krause, who was now fully convinced of the importance of his guest, “you do me justice; I am firm and steadfast in the good cause. I am known to be so, and I am also, I trust, discreet; confiding to my tried friends, indeed, but it will be generally acknowledged that Mynheer Krause has possessed, and safely guarded, the secrets of the State.”

  Now, in the latter part of this speech, Mynheer Krause committed a small mistake. He was known to be a babbler, one to whom a secret could not be imparted, without every risk of its being known; and it was from the knowledge of this failing in Mynheer Krause that Ramsay had received such very particular recommendations to him. As syndic of the town, it was impossible to prevent his knowledge of Government secrets, and when these occasionally escaped, they were always traced to his not being able to hold his tongue.

  Nothing pleased Mynheer Krause so much as a secret, because nothing gave him so much pleasure as whispering it confidentially into the ear of a dozen confidential friends. The consequence was, the Government was particularly careful that he should not know what was going on, and did all they could to prevent it; but there were many others who, although they could keep a secret, had no objection to part with it for a consideration, and in the enormous commercial transactions of Mynheer Krause, it was not unfrequent for a good bargain to be struck with him by one or more of the public functionaries, the difference between the sum proposed and accepted being settled against the interest of Mynheer Krause, by the party putting him in possession of some Government movement which had hitherto been kept in petto. Every man has his hobby, and usually pays dear for it; so did Mynheer Krause.

  Now when it is remembered that Ramsay had opened and read the whole of the despatches, it may at once be supposed what a valuable acquaintance he would appear to Mynheer Krause; but we must not anticipate. Ramsay’s reply was, “I feel it my bounden duty to impart all I am possessed of to my very worthy host, but allow me to observe, mynheer, that prudence is necessary — we may be overheard.”

  “I am pleased to find one of your age so circumspect,” replied Krause; “perhaps it would be better to defer our conversation till after supper; but in the meantime, could you not just give me a little inkling of what is going on?”

  Ramsay had difficulty in stifling a smile at this specimen of Mynheer Krause’s eagerness for intelligence. He very gravely walked up to him, looked all round the room as if he was afraid that the walls would hear him, and then whispered for a few seconds into the ear of his host.

  “Indeed!” exclaimed Krause, looking up into Ramsay’s face.

  Ramsay nodded his head authoritatively.

  “Gott in himmel!” exclaimed the syndic; but here the bell for dinner rang a loud peal. “Dinner is on the table, mynheer,” continued the syndic; “allow me to show you the way. We will talk this over to-night. Gott in himmel! Is it possible?”

  Mynheer Krause led the way to another saloon, where Ramsay found not only the table prepared, but, as he had anticipated, the daughter of his host, to whom he was introduced. “Wilhelmina,” said Mynheer Krause, “our young friend will stay with us, I trust, some time, and you must do all you can to make him comfortable. You know, my dear, that business must be attended to. With me, time is money; so much so, that I can scarcely do justice to the affairs of the State devolving upon me in virtue of my office. You must, therefore, join with me, and do your best to amuse our guest.”

  To this speech, Wilhelmina made no reply, but by a gracious inclination of her head towards Ramsay, which was returned with all humility. The dinner was excellent, and Ramsay amused himself very well indeed until it was over. Mynheer Krause then led the way to the saloon, called for coffee, and, as soon as he had finished it, made an apology to his guest and left him alone with his beautiful daughter.

  Wilhelmina Krause was a young person of a strong mind irregularly cultivated; she had never known the advantage of a mother’s care, and was, indeed, self-educated. She had a strong tinge of romance in her character, and, left so much alone, she loved to indulge in it.

  In other points she was clever, well read, and accomplished; graceful in her manners, open in her disposition, to a fault; for, like her father, she could not keep a secret, not even the secrets of her own heart; for whatever she thought she gave utterance to, which is not exactly the custom in this world, and often attended with unpleasant consequences.

  The seclusion in which she had been kept added to the natural timidity of her disposition — but when once intimate, it also added to her confiding character. It was impossible to see without admiring her, to know her without loving her; for she was Nature herself, and, at the same time, in her person one of Nature’s masterpieces.

  As we observed, when they retired to the saloon, Mynheer Krause very shortly quitted them, to attend to his affairs below, desiring his daughter to exert herself for the amusement of his guest; the contrary, however, was the case, for Ramsay exerted himself to amuse her, and very soon was successful, for he could talk of courts and kings, of courtiers and of people, and of a thousand things, all interesting to a young girl who had lived secluded; and as his full-toned voice, in measured and low pitch, fell upon Wilhelmina’s ear, she never perhaps was so much interested. She seldom ventured a remark, except it was to request him to proceed; and the eloquent language with which Ramsay clothed his ideas added a charm to the novelty of his conversation. In the course of two hours Ramsay had already acquired a moral influence over Wilhelmina, who looked up to him with respect, and another feeling which we can only define by saying that it was certainly anything but ill-will.

  The time passed so rapidly, that the two young people could hardly believe it possible that it was past six o’clock, when they were interrupted by the appearance of Mynheer Krause, who came from his counting-house, the labours of the day being over. In the summer-time it was his custom to take his daughter out in the carriage at this hour, but the weather was too cold, and, moreover, it was nearly dark. A conversation ensued on general topics, which lasted till supper-time; after this repast was over Wilhelmina retired, leaving Ramsay and the syndic alone.

  It was then that Ramsay made known to his host the contents of the despatches, much to Mynheer Krause’s surprise and delight, who felt assured that his guest must be strong in the confidence of the English Government, to be able to communicate such intelligence. Ramsay, who was aware that the syndic would sooner or later know what had been written, of course was faithful in his detail: not so, however, when they canvassed the attempts of the Jacobite party; then Mr Krause was completely mystified.

  It was not till a late hour that they retired to bed. The next morning, the syndic, big with his intelligence, called upon his friends in person, and much to their surprise told them the contents of the despatches which had been received — and, much to his delight, discovered that he had been correctly informed. He also communicated what Ramsay had told him relative to the movements of the court of St. Germain, and thus, unintentionally, false intelligence was forwarded to England as from good authority. It hardly need be observed, that, in a very short time, Ramsay had gained the entire confidence of his host, and we may add also, of his host’s daughter; but we must leave him for the present to follow up his plans, whatever they may be, and return to the personages more immediately connected with this narrative.

  Chapter Twenty Nine.

  In which Jemmy Ducks proves the Truth of Moggy’s Assertion, that there was no one like him before or since — Nancy and Jemmy serenade the Stars.

  As soon as Moggy landed at the Point with her dear darling duck of a husband, as she called him, she put his chest and hammock on a barrow, and had them wheeled up to her own lodgings, and then they went out to call upon Nancy Corbett to make their future arrangements; Moggy proceeding in rapid strides, and Jemmy trotting with his diminutive legs behind her, something like a stout pony by the side of a large horse. It was in pedestrianism that Jemmy most felt his inferiority, and the protecting, fond way in which Moggy would turn round every minute and say, “Come along, my duck,” would have been irritating to any other but one of Jemmy’s excellent temper. Many looked at Jemmy, as he waddled along, smiled and passed on; one unfortunate nymph, however, ventured to stop, and putting her arms a-kimbo, looked down upon him, and exclaimed, “Yell! you are a nice little man,” and then commenced singing the old refrain —

  “I had a little husband no bigger than my thumb,

  I put him in a pint pot, and there I bid him drum.”

  when Moggy, who had turned back, saluted her with such a box on the ear that she made the drum of it ring again. The young lady was not one of those who would offer the other cheek to be smitten, and she immediately flew at Moggy and returned the blow; but Jemmy, who liked quiet, caught her round the legs, and, as if she had been a feather, threw her over his head, so that she fell down in the gutter behind him with a violence which was anything but agreeable. She gained her legs again, looked at her soiled garments, scraped the mud off her cheek — we are sorry to add, made use of some very improper language — and, finding herself in the minority, walked off, turning round and shaking her fist at every twenty paces.

  Moggy and her husband continued their course as if nothing had happened, and arrived at the house of Nancy Corbett, who had, as may be supposed, changed her lodgings and kept out of sight of Vanslyperken. Nancy was no stranger to Jemmy Ducks; so far as his person went, he was too remarkable a character not to be known by her who knew almost everybody; and, moreover, she had made sufficient inquiries about his character. The trio at once proceeded to business: Jemmy had promised his wife to join the smugglers; and it was now arranged, that both he and his wife should be regularly enlisted in the gang — she to remain at the cave with the women, unless her services were required elsewhere, he to belong to the boat. There was, however, one necessary preliminary still to be taken, that of Jemmy and his wife both taking the oath of fidelity at the house of the Jew Lazarus; but it was not advisable to go there before dusk, so they remained with Nancy till that time, during which she was fully satisfied that, in both parties, the band would have an acquisition, for Nancy was very keen and penetrating, and had a great insight into human nature.

  At dusk, to the house of Lazarus they accordingly repaired, and were admitted by the cautious Jew. Nancy stated why they had come, and there being, at the time, several of the confederates, as usual, in the house, they were summoned by the Jew to be witnesses to the oath being administered. Half-a-dozen dark-looking, bold men soon made their appearance, and recognised Nancy by nods of their heads.

  “Who have we here, old Father Abraham?” exclaimed a stout man, who was dressed in a buff jerkin, and a pair of boots which rose above his knees.

  “A good man and true,” replied Nancy, taking up the answer.

  “Why, you don’t call that thing a man!” exclaimed the fierce-looking confederate, with contempt.

  “As good a man as ever stood in your boots,” replied Moggy, in wrath.

  “Indeed! well, perhaps so, if he could only see his way when once into them,” replied the man with a loud laugh, in which he was joined by his companions.

  “What can you do, my little man?” said another, of a slighter build than the first, coming forward and putting his hand upon Jemmy’s head.

  Now Jemmy was the best-tempered fellow in the world, but, at the same time, the very best-tempered people have limits to their forbearance, and do not like to be taken liberties with by strangers: so felt Jemmy, who, seizing the young man firmly by the waistband of his trousers just below the hips, lifted him from the ground, and with a strength which astonished all present, threw him clean over the table, his body sweeping away both the candles, so they were all left in darkness.

  “I can douse a glim, anyhow,” cried Jemmy.

  “That’s my darling duck,” cried Moggy, delighted with this proof of her husband’s vigour.

  Some confusion was created by this manoeuvre on the part of Jemmy, but candles were reproduced, and the first man who spoke, feeling as if this victory on the part of Jemmy was a rebuke to himself, again commenced his interrogations.

  “Well, my little man, you are strong in the arms, but what will you do without legs?”

  “Not run away, as you have done a hundred times,” replied Jemmy, scornfully.

  “Now by the God of war you shall answer for this,” replied the man, catching hold of Jemmy by the collar; but in a moment he was tripped up by Jemmy, and fell down with great violence on his back.

  “Bravo, bravo!” exclaimed the rest, who took part with Jemmy.

  “That’s my own little duck,” cried Moggy; “you’ve shown him what you can do, anyhow.”

  The man rose, and was apparently feeling for some arms secreted about his person, when Nancy Corbett stepped forward.

  “Do you dare?” cried she; “take what you have received, and be thankful, or—” and Nancy held up her little forefinger.

  The man slunk back among the others in silence. The old Jew, who had not interfered, being in presence of Nancy, who had superior commands, now read the oath, which was of a nature not to be communicated to the reader without creating disgust. It was, however, such an oath as was taken in those times, and has since been frequently taken in Ireland. It was subscribed to by Jemmy and his wife without hesitation, and they were immediately enrolled among the members of the association. As soon as this ceremony had been gone through, Nancy and her protégés quitted the house and returned to her lodgings, when it was agreed that the next night they should go over to the island, as Jemmy’s services were required in the boat in lieu of Ramsay, whose place as steersman he was admirably qualified to occupy; much better, indeed, than that of a rower, as his legs were too short to reach the stretcher where it was usually fixed.

  The next evening the weather was calm and clear, and when they embarked in the boat of the old fisherman, with but a small portion of their effects, the surface of the water was unruffled, and the stars twinkled brightly in the heavens; one article which Jemmy never parted with was in his hand — his fiddle. They all took their seats, and the old fisherman shoved off his boat, and they were soon swept out of the harbour by the strong ebb tide.

  “An’t this better than being on board with Vanslyperken, and your leave stopped?” observed Moggy.

  “Yes,” replied the husband.

  “And I not permitted to go on board to see my duck of a husband — confound his snivelling carcase?” continued Moggy.

  “Yes,” replied Jemmy, thoughtfully.

  “And in company with that supernatural cur of his?”

  Jemmy nodded his head, and then in his abstraction touched the strings of his violin.

  “They say that you are clever with your instrument, Mr Salisbury,” observed Nancy Corbett.

  “That he is,” replied Moggy; “and he sings like a darling duck. Don’t you, Jemmy, my dear?”

  “Quack, quack,” replied Jemmy.

  “Well, Mr Salisbury, there’s no boat that I can see near us, or even in sight; and if there was it were little matter. I suppose you will let me hear you, for I shall have little opportunity after this?”