It was on the road to Rotterdam, within a league of the city, that Gerard found an old man sitting by the roadside quite worn out, and a comely young woman holding his hand.  The old man wore a gown, and a fur tippet, and a velvet cap—­sure signs of dignity; but the gown was rusty, and the fur old—­sure signs of poverty.  The young woman was dressed in plain russet cloth, yet snow-white lawn covered her neck.

“Father, I fear you are tired,” said Gerard bashfully.

“Indeed, my son, I am,” replied the old man; “and faint for lack of food.”

The girl whispered, “Father, a stranger—­a young man!” But Gerard, with simplicity, and as a matter of course, was already gathering sticks for a fire.  This done, he took down his wallet, and brought his tinder-box and an iron flask his careful mother had put in.

Ghysbrecht Van Swikten, the burgomaster of Tergon, an old man redolent of wealth, came riding by while Gerard was preparing a meal of soup and bread by the roadside.  He reined in his steed and spoke uneasily:  “Why, Peter—­Margaret—­what mummery is this?” Then, seeing Gerard, he cast a look of suspicion on Margaret, and rode on.  The wayfarers did not know that more than half the wealth of the burgomaster belonged to old Peter Brandt, now dependent on Gerard for his soup; but Ghysbrecht knew it, and carried it in his heart, a scorpion of remorse that was not penitence.

From that hour Gerard was in love with Margaret, and now began a pretty trouble.  For at Rotterdam, thanks to a letter from Margaret Van Eyck, Gerard won the favour of the Princess Marie, who, hearing that he was to be a priest, promised him a benefice.  And yet no sooner was Gerard returned home to Tergon than he must needs go seeking Margaret, who lived alone with her father, old Peter Brandt, at Sevenbergen.  Ghysbrecht’s one fear was that if Gerard married Margaret the youth would sooner or later get to hear about certain documents in the burgomaster’s possession, documents which established Brandt’s right to lands held by the burgomaster, and which old Peter had long forgotten.

So Ghysbrecht went to Eli and Catherine and showed them a picture Gerard had made of Margaret Brandt, and said that if Eli ordered it his son should be locked up until he came to his senses.  Henceforth there was no longer any peace in the little house at Tergon, and at last Eli declared before the whole family that he had ordered the burgomaster to imprison his son Gerard in the Stadthouse rather than let him marry Margaret.  Gerard turned pale at this, and his father went on to say, “and a priest you shall be before this year is out, willy-nilly.”

“Is it so?” cried Gerard.  “Then hear me all.  By God and St. Bavon, I swear I will never be a priest while Margaret lives.  Since force is to decide it, and not love and duty, try force, father.  And the day I see the burgomaster come for me I leave Tergon for ever, and Holland too, and my father’s house, where it seems I am valued only for what is to be got out of me.”