Some are old in heart at forty, some are young at eighty.Margaret Van Eyck's heart was an evergreen.She loved her young namesake with youthful ardour.Nor was this new sentiment a mere caprice;she was quick at reading character, and saw in Margaret Brandt that which in one of her own sex goes far with an intelligent woman; genuineness.But, besides her own sterling qualities, Margaret had from the first a potent ally in the old artist's bosom.
Human nature.
Strange as it may appear to the unobservant, our hearts warm more readily to those we have benefited than to our benefactors.Some of the Greek philosophers noticed this; but the British Homer has stamped it in immortal lines:-"I heard, and thought how side by side We two had stemmed the battle's tide In many a well-debated field, Where Bertram's breast was Philip's shield.
I thought on Darien's deserts pale, Where Death bestrides the evening gale, How o'er my friend my cloak I threw, And fenceless faced the deadly dew.
I thought on Quariana's cliff, Where, rescued from our foundering skiff, Through the white breakers' wrath I bore Exhausted Bertram to the shore:
And when his side an arrow found, I sucked the Indian's venom'd wound.
These thoughts like torrents rushed along To sweep away my purpose strong."Observe! this assassin's hand is stayed by memory, not of benefits received, but benefits conferred.
Now Margaret Van Eyck had been wonderfully kind to Margaret Brandt; had broken through her own habits to go and see her; had nursed her, and soothed her, and petted her, and cured her more than all the medicine in the world.So her heart opened to the recipient of her goodness, and she loved her now far more tenderly than she had ever loved Gerard, though, in truth, it was purely out of regard for Gerard she had visited her in the first instance.
When, therefore, she saw the roses on Margaret's cheek, and read the bit of parchment that had brought them there, she gave up her own views without a murmur.
"Sweetheart," said she, "I did desire he should stay in Italy five or six years, and come back rich, and above all, an artist.But your happiness is before all, and I see you cannot live without him, so we must have him home as fast as may be.""Ah, madam! you see my very thoughts." And the young woman hung her head a moment and blushed."But how to let him know, madam?
That passes my skill.He is gone to Italy; but what part I know not.Stay! he named the cities he should visit.Florence was one, and Rome." But then - Finally, being a sensible girl, she divined that a letter, addressed, "My Gerard - Italy," might chance to miscarry, and she looked imploringly at her friend for counsel.
"You are come to the right place, and at the right time," said the old lady."Here was this Hans Memling with me to-day; he is going to Italy, girl, no later than next week, 'to improve his hand,' he says.Not before 'twas needed, I do assure you.""But how is he to find my Gerard?"
"Why, he knows your Gerard, child.They have supped here more than once, and were like hand and glove.Now, as his business is the same as Gerard's, he will visit the same places as Gerard, and soon or late he must fall in with him.Wherefore, get you a long letter written, and copy out this pardon into it, and I'll answer for the messenger.In six months at farthest Gerard shall get it;and when he shall get it, then will he kiss it, and put it in his bosom, and come flying home.What are you smiling at? And now what makes your cheeks so red? And what you are smothering me for, Icannot think.Yes! happy days are coming to my little pearl."Meantime, Martin sat in the kitchen, with the black-jack before him and Reicht Heynes spinning beside him: and, wow! but she pumped him that night.
This Hans Memling was an old pupil of Jan Van Eyck and his sister.
He was a painter notwithstanding Margaret's sneer, and a good soul enough, with one fault.He loved the "nipperkin, canakin, and the brown bowl" more than they deserve.This singular penchant kept him from amassing fortune, and was the cause that he often came to Margaret Van Eyck for a meal, and sometimes for a groat.But this gave her a claim on him, and she knew he would not trifle with any commission she should entrust to him.
The letter was duly written and left with Margaret Van Eyck; and the following week, sure enough, Hans Memling returned from Flanders, Margaret Van Eyck gave him the letter, and a piece of gold towards his travelling expenses.He seemed in a hurry to be off.
"All the better," said the old artist; "he will be the sooner in Italy."But as there are horses who burn and rage to start, and after the first yard or two want the whip, so all this hurry cooled into inaction when Hans got as far as the principal hostelry of Tergou, and saw two of his boon companions sitting in the bay window.He went in for a parting glass with them; but when he offered to pay, they would not hear of it, No; he was going a long journey; they would treat him; everybody must treat him, the landlord and all.
It resulted from this treatment that his tongue got as loose as if the wine had been oil; and he confided to the convivial crew that he was going to show the Italians how to paint: next he sang his exploits in battle, for he had handled a pike; and his amorous successes with females, not present to oppose their version of the incidents.In short, "plenus rimarum erat: huc illuc diffluebat;"and among the miscellaneous matters that oozed out, he must blab that he was entrusted with a letter to a townsman of theirs, one Gerard, a good fellow: he added "you are all good fellows:" and to impress his eulogy, slapped Sybrandt on the back so heartily, as to drive the breath out of his body.
Sybrandt got round the table to avoid this muscular approval; but listened to every word, and learned for the first time that Gerard was gone to Italy.However, to make sure, he affected to doubt it.
"My brother Gerard is never in Italy."
