“Right wrongs no man.  Till others move in this matter, you be quiet.  If you talk, evil words you will say; and mind this, Arenta, the evil that comes out of your lips, into your own bosom will fall.  All my life I have seen this.”

But Arenta could not be quiet.  She would sow thorns, though she had to walk unshod; and her father’s advice moved her no more than a breath moves a mountain.  In the same afternoon she saw Madame Jacobus going to Doctor Moran’s, and the hour she remained there, was full of misery to her impetuous self-adoring heart.  She was sure they were talking of Rem and herself; and as she had all their conversation to imagine, she came to conclusions in accord with her suspicions.

But she met her aunt at the door and brought her eagerly into the parlour.  She had had no visitors that day, and was bored and restless and longing for conversation.  “I saw you go to the Doctor’s an hour ago, aunt,” she said.  “I hope the Captain is well.”

“Jacobus is quite well, thank God and Doctor Moran—­and Cornelia.  I have been looking at some of her wedding gowns.  A girl so happy, and who deserves to be so happy, I never saw.  What a darling she is!”

“It is now the fashion to rave about her.  I suppose they found time enough to abuse poor Rem.  And you could listen to them!  I would not have done so!  No! not if listening had meant salvation for the whole Moran family.”

“You are a remarkably foolish young woman.  They never named Rem.  People so happy, do not remember the bringer of sorrow.  He has been shut out—­ in the darkness and cold.  But I heard from Madame Van Heemskirk why Cornelia and that delightful young man were not married two years ago.  I am ashamed of Rem.  I can never forgive him.  He is a disgrace to the family.  And that is why I came here to-day.  I wish you to make Rem understand that he must not come near his Uncle Jacobus.  When Jacobus is angry, he will call heaven and earth and hell to help him speak his mind, and I have nearly cured him of a habit which is so distressing to me, and such a great wrong to his own soul.  The very sight of Rem would break every barrier down, and let a flood of words loose, that would make him suffer afterwards.  I will not have Jacobus led into such temptation.  I have not heard an oath from him for six months.”

“I suppose you would never forgive Jacobus, if you did hear one?”

“That is another matter.  I hope I have a heart to forgive whatever Jacobus does, or says—­he is my husband.”

“It is then less wicked to blaspheme Almighty God, than to keep one of Lord Hyde’s love letters.  One fault may be forgiven, the other is unpardonable.  Dear me! how religiously ignorant I am.  As for my uncle swearing—­and the passions that thus express themselves—­everybody knows that anything that distantly resembles good temper, will suit Captain Jacobus.”