Why should his political opinions ever be known? and why should not Wilhelmina be of the same opinion as he was? — and why — . Ramsay fell asleep, putting these questions to himself, and the next morning he resolved that things should take their chance.

  It was about a fortnight since the cutter had left for England. Ramsay was rather impatient for intelligence, but the cutter had not yet returned. Breakfast had been over some time, Mynheer Van Krause had descended to his warehouses, and Ramsay and Wilhelmina were sitting together upon one of the sofas in the saloon, both reclining, and free from that restraint of which nothing but extreme intimacy will divest you.

  “And so, my Wilhelmina,” said Ramsay, taking up her hand, which lay listless at her side, and playing with her taper fingers, “you really think William of Nassau is a good man?”

  “And do not you, Ramsay?” replied Wilhelmina, surprised.

  “However I may rejoice at his being on the throne of England, I doubt whether it can justify his conduct to the unfortunate King James, in leagueing against his own father-in-law and dispossessing him of his kingdom. Suppose, now, Wilhelmina, that any fortunate man should become one day your husband: what a cruel — what a diabolical conduct it would be on his part — at least, so it appears to me — if, in return for your father putting him in possession of perhaps his greatest treasure on earth, he were to seize upon all your father’s property, and leave him a beggar, because other people were to invite him so to do.”

  “I never heard it placed in that light before, Ramsay; that the alliance between King William and his father-in-law should have made him very scrupulous, I grant, but when the happiness of a nation depended on it, ought not a person in William’s situation to waive all minor considerations?”

  “The happiness of a nation, Wilhelmina! In what way would you prove that so much was at stake?”

  “Was not the Protestant religion at stake? Is not King James a bigoted Catholic?”

  “I grant that, and therefore ought not to reign over a Protestant nation; but if you imagine that the happiness of any nation depends upon his religion, I am afraid you are deceived. Religion has been made the excuse for interfering with the happiness of a nation whenever no better excuse could be brought forward; but depend upon it, the mass of the people will never quarrel about religion if they are left alone, and their interests not interfered with. Had King James not committed himself in other points, he might have worshipped his Creator in any form he thought proper. That a Protestant king was all that was necessary to quiet the nation is fully disproved by the present state of the country, now that the sceptre has been, for some years, swayed by King William, it being, at this moment, in a state very nearly approaching to rebellion.”

  “But is not that occasioned by the machinations of the Jacobite party, who are promoting dissension in every quarter?” replied Wilhelmina.

  “I grant that they are not idle,” replied Ramsay; “but observe the state of bitter variance between William and the House of Commons, which represents the people of England. What can religion have to do with that? No, Wilhelmina; although, in this country, there are few who do not rejoice at their king being called to the throne of England, there are many, and those the most wise, in that country, who lament it quite as much.”

  “But why so?”

  “Because mankind are governed by interest, and patriotism is little more than a cloak. The benefits to this country, by the alliance with England, are very great, especially in a commercial point of view, and therefore you will find no want of patriots; but to England the case is different: it is not her interest to be involved and mixed up in continental wars and dissensions, which must now inevitably be the case. Depend upon it, that posterity will find that England will have paid very dear for a Protestant king; religion is what every one is willing to admit the propriety and necessity of, until they are taxed to pay for it, and then it is astonishing how very indifferent, if not disgusted, they become to it.”

  “Why, Ramsay, one would never imagine you to be such a warm partisan of the present Government, as I believe you really are, to hear you talk this morning,” replied Wilhelmina.

  “My public conduct, as belonging to a party, does not prevent my having my private opinions. To my party, I am, and ever will be, stedfast; but knowing the world, and the secret springs of most people’s actions, as I do, you must not be surprised at my being so candid with you, Wilhelmina. Our conversation, I believe, commenced upon the character of King William; and I will confess to you, that estimating the two characters in moral worth, I would infinitely prefer being the exiled and Catholic James than the unnatural and crowned King William.”

  “You will say next, that you would just as soon be a Catholic as a Protestant.”

  “And if I had been brought up in the tenets of the one instead of the other, what difference would it have made, except that I should have adhered to the creed of my forefathers, and have worshipped the Almighty after their fashion, form, and ceremonies? And are not all religions good if they be sincere? — do not they all tend to the same object, and have the same goal in view — that of gaining heaven? Would you not prefer a good, honest, conscientious man, were he a Catholic, to a mean, intriguing, and unworthy person, who professed himself a Protestant?”

  “Most certainly; but I should prefer to the just Catholic a man who was a just Protestant.”

  “That is but natural; but recollect, Wilhelmina, you have seen and heard, as yet, but one side of the question; and if I speak freely to you, it is only to give you the advantage of my experience from having mixed with the world. I am true to my party, and, as a man, I must belong to a party, or I become a nonentity. But were I in a condition so unshackled that I may take up or lay down my opinions as I pleased, without loss of character — as a woman may, for instance — so little do I care for party — so well balanced do I know the right and the wrong to be on both sides — that I would, to please one I loved, at once yield up my opinions, to agree with her, if she would not yield up hers to agree with mine.”

  “Then you think a woman might do so? — that is no compliment to the sex, Ramsay; for it is as much as to assert that we have not only no weight or influence in the world, but also that we have no character or stability.”

  “Far from it; I only mean to say that women do not generally enter sufficiently into politics to care much for them; they generally imbibe the politics of those they live with, without further examination, and that it is no disgrace to them if they change them. Besides there is one feeling in women so powerful as to conquer all others, and when once that enters the breast, the remainder are absorbed or become obedient to it.”

  “And that feeling is—”

  “Love, Wilhelmina; and if a woman happens to have been brought up in one way of thinking by her parents, when she transfers her affections to her husband, should his politics be adverse, she will soon come round to his opinion, if she really loves him.”

  “I am not quite so sure of that, Ramsay.”

  “I am quite sure she ought. Politics and party are ever a subject of dispute, and therefore should be avoided by a wife; besides, if a woman selects one as her husband, her guide and counsellor through life, one whom she swears to love, honour, cherish, and obey, she gives but a poor proof of it, if she does not yield up her judgment in all matters more peculiarly his province.”

  “You really put things in such a new light, Ramsay, that I hardly know how to answer you, even when I am not convinced.”

  “Because you have not had sufficient time for reflection, Wilhelmina; but weigh well, and dwell upon what I have said, and then you will either acknowledge that I am right, or find arguments to prove that I am wrong. But you promised me some singing. Let me lead you into the music-room.”

  We have introduced this conversation between Wilhelmina and Ramsay, to show not only what influence he had already gained over the artless yet intelligent girl, but also the way by which he considerately prepared her for the acknowledgment which he resolved to make to her on some future opportunity; for, although Ramsay cared little for deceiving the father, he would not have married the daughter without her being fully aware of who he was. These conversations were constantly renewed, as if accidentally, by Ramsay; and long before he had talked in direct terms of love, he had fully prepared her for it, so that he felt she would not receive a very severe shock when he threw off the mask, even when she discovered that he was a Catholic, and opposed to her father in religion as well as in politics. The fact was, that Ramsay, at first, was as much attracted by her wealth as by her personal charms; but, like many other men, as his love increased, so did he gradually become indifferent to her wealth, and he was determined to win her for his wife in spite of all obstacles, and even if he were obliged to secure her hand, by carrying her off without the paternal consent.

  Had it been requisite, it is not certain whether Ramsay might not have been persuaded to have abandoned his party, so infatuated had he at last become with the really fascinating Wilhelmina.

  But Ramsay was interrupted in the middle of one of his most favourite songs, by old Koops, who informed him that the lieutenant of the cutter was waiting for him in his room. Apologising for the necessary absence, Ramsay quitted the music-room, and hastened to meet Vanslyperken.

  Mr Vanslyperken had received his orders to return to the Hague a few days after the fright he had received from the nasal organ of the corporal. In pursuance of his instructions from Ramsay, he had not failed to open all the Government despatches, and extract their contents. He had also brought over letters from Ramsay’s adherents.

  “You are sure these extracts are quite correct?” said Ramsay, after he had read them over.

  “Quite so, sir,” replied Vanslyperken.

  “And you have been careful to seal the letters again, so as to avoid suspicion?”

  “Does not my life depend upon it, Mr Ramsay?”

  “Very true, and also upon your fidelity to us. Here’s your money. Let me know when you sail, and come for orders.”

  Vanslyperken then took his bag of money, made his bow, and departed, and Ramsay commenced reading over the letters received from his friends. Mynheer Van Krause observed Vanslyperken as he was leaving the house, and immediately hastened to Ramsay’s room to inquire the news. A portion of the contents of the despatches were made known to him, and the syndic was very soon afterwards seen to walk out, leaving his people to mark and tally the bales which were hoisting out from a vessel in the canal. The fact was, that Mynheer Van Krause was so anxious to get rid of his secret, that he could not contain himself any longer, and had set off to communicate to one of the authorities what he had obtained.

  “But from whence did you receive this intelligence, Mynheer Krause?” demanded the other. “The despatches have not yet been opened; we are waiting for Mynheer Van Wejen. I suppose we shall learn something there. You knew all before we did, when the cutter arrived last time. You must have some important friends at the English court, Mynheer Van Krause.”

  Here Mynheer Van Krause nodded his head, and looked very knowing, and shortly afterwards took his leave.

  But this particular friend of Mynheer Krause was also his particular enemy. Krause had lately imparted secrets which were supposed to be known and entrusted to none but those in the entire confidence of the Government. How could he have obtained them unless by the treachery of some one at home; and why should Mynheer Krause, who was not trusted by the Government there, notwithstanding his high civil office, because he were known to be unsafe, be trusted by some one at home, unless it were for treacherous purposes? So argued Mr Krause’s most particular friend, who thought it proper to make known his opinions on the subject, and to submit to the other authorities whether this was not a fair subject for representation in their next despatches to England; and, in consequence of his suggestion, the representation was duly made. Mynheer Krause was not the first person whose tongue had got him into difficulties.

  So soon as Vanslyperken had delivered his despatches to Ramsay, he proceeded to the widow Vandersloosh, when, as usual, he was received with every apparent mark of cordial welcome, was again installed on the little sofa, and again drank the beer of the widow’s own brewing, and was permitted to take her fat hand. Babette inquired after the corporal, and, when rallied by the lieutenant, appeared to blush, and turned her head away. The widow also assisted in the play, and declared that it should be a match, and that Babette and herself should be married on the same day. As the evening drew nigh, Vanslyperken took his leave, and went on board, giving permission to the corporal to go on shore, and very soon the corporal was installed in his place.

  This is a sad world of treachery and deceit.

  Chapter Thirty Five.

  In which the Agency of a Red-Herring is again introduced into our Wonderful History.

  We are somewhat inclined to moralise. We did not intend to write this day. On the contrary, we had arranged for a party of pleasure and relaxation, in which the heels, and every other portion of the body upwards, except the brain, were to be employed, and that was to have a respite. The morning was fair, and we promised ourselves amusement, but we were deceived, and we returned to our task, as the rain poured down in torrents, washing the dirty face of mother earth. Yes, deceived; and here we cannot help observing, that this history of ours is a very true picture of human life — for what a complication of treachery does it not involve!

  Smallbones is deceiving his master, Mr Vanslyperken — the corporal is deceiving Mr Vanslyperken — the widow is deceiving Mr Vanslyperken, so is Babette, and the whole crew of the Yungfrau. Ramsay is deceiving his host and his mistress. All the Jacobites, in a mass, are plotting against and deceiving the Government, and as for Mr Vanslyperken, as it will soon appear, he is deceiving everybody, and will ultimately deceive himself. The only honest party in the whole history is the one most hated, as generally is the case in this world — I mean Snarleyyow. There is no deceit about him, and therefore, par excellence, he is fairly entitled to be the hero of, and to give his name to, the work. The next most honest party in the book is Wilhelmina; all the other women, except little Lilly, are cheats and impostors — and Lilly is too young; our readers may, therefore, be pleased to consider Snarleyyow and Wilhelmina as the hero and heroine of the tale, and then it will leave one curious feature in it, the principals will not only not be united, but the tale will wind up without their ever seeing each other. Allons en avant.

  But of all the treachery practised by all the parties, it certainly appears to us that the treachery of the widow was the most odious and diabolical. She was, like a bloated spider, slowly entwining those threads for her victim which were to entrap him to his destruction, for she had vowed that she never would again be led to the hymeneal altar until Mr Vanslyperken was hanged. Perhaps, the widow Vandersloosh was in a hurry to be married; at least, by her activity, it would so appear — but let us not anticipate.

  The little sofa was fortunately, like its build, strong as a cob, or it never could have borne the weight of two such lovers as the widow Vandersloosh and the Corporal Van Spitter; there they sat, she radiant with love and beer, he with ditto; their sides met, for the sofa exactly took them both in, without an inch to spare; their hands met, their eyes met, and whenever one raised the glass, the other was on the alert, and their glasses met and jingled — a mere practical specimen of hob and nob was never witnessed. There was but one thing wanting to complete their happiness, which, unlike other people’s, did not hang upon a thread, but something much stronger, it hung upon a cord — the cord which was to hang Mr Vanslyperken.

  And now the widow, like the three Fates rolled into one, is weaving the woof, and, in good Dutch, is pouring into the attentive ear of the corporal her hopes and fears, her surmises, her wishes, her anticipations, and her desires — and he imbibes them all greedily, washing them down with the beer of the widow’s own brewing.

  “He has not been to the house opposite these two last arrivals,” said the widow, “that is certain; for Babette and I have been on the watch. There was hanging matter there. Now I won’t believe but that he must go somewhere; he carries his letters, and takes his gold as before, depend upon it. Yes, and I will find it out. Yes, yes, Mr Vanslyperken, we will see who is the ‘cutest — you or the widow Vandersloosh.”

  “Mein Gott! yes,” replied the corporal.

  “Now he landed a passenger last time, which he called a king’s messenger, and I am as sure as I sit here, that he was no king’s messenger, unless he was one of King James’s, as was; for look you, Corporal Van Spitter, do you suppose that King William would employ an Englishman, as you say he was, for a messenger, when a Dutchman was to be had for love or money? No, no, we must find out where he goes to. I will have some one on the look-out when you come again, and then set Babette on the watch; she shall track him up to the den of his treachery. Yes, yes, Mr Vanslyperken, we will see who gains the day, you or the widow Vandersloosh.”

  “Mein Gott! yes,” replied the corporal.

  “And now, corporal, I’ve been thinking over all this ever since your absence, and all you have told me about his cowardly attempts upon that poor boy’s life, and his still greater cowardice in believing such stuff as you have made him believe about the lad not being injured by mortal man. Stuff and nonsense! the lad is but a lad.”

  “Mein Gott! yes,” said the corporal.

  “And now, corporal, I’ll tell you something else, which is, that you and the Yungfraus are just as great fools as Mynheer Vanslyperken, in believing all that stuff and nonsense about the dog. The dog is but a dog.”

  This was rather a trial to the corporal’s politeness; to deny what the widow said might displease; and, as he firmly believed otherwise, he was put to a nonplus; but the widow looked him full in the face, expecting assent, so at last the corporal drawled out —