Not long after this, as the little family at Tergou sat at dinner, Luke Peterson burst in on them, covered with dust."Good people, Mistress Catherine is wanted instantly at Rotterdam.""My name is Catherine, young man.Kate, it will be Margaret.""Ay, dame, she said to me, 'Good Luke, hie thee to Tergou, and ask for Eli the hosier, and pray his wife Catherine to come to me, for God His love.' I didn't wait for daylight.""Holy saints! He has come home, Kate.Nay, she would sure have said so.What on earth can it be?" And she heaped conjecture on conjecture.
"Mayhap the young man can tell us," hazarded Kate timidly,"That I can," said Luke, "Why, her babe is a-dying, And she was so wrapped up in it! "Catherine started up: "What is his trouble?""Nay, I know not.But it has been peaking and pining worse and worse this while,"A furtive glance of satisfaction passed between Cornelis and Sybrandt.Luckily for them Catherine did not see it.Her face was turned towards her husband."Now, Eli," cried she furiously, "if you say a word against it, you and I shall quarrel, after all these years.'
"Who gainsays thee, foolish woman? Quarrel with your own shadow, while I go borrow Peter's mule for ye.""Bless thee, my good man! Bless thee! Didst never yet fail me at a pinch, Now eat your dinners who can, while I go and make ready."She took Luke back with her in the cart, and on the way questioned and cross-questioned him severely and seductively by turns, till she had turned his mind inside out, what there was of it.
Margaret met her at the door, pale and agitated, and threw her arms round her neck, and looked imploringly in her face.
"Come, he is alive, thank God," said Catherine, after scanning her eagerly,She looked at the failing child, and then at the poor hollow-eyed mother, alternately, "Lucky you sent for me," said she, "The child is poisoned.""Poisoned! by whom?"
"By you.You have been fretting."
"Nay, indeed, mother.How can I help fretting?""Don't tell me, Margaret.A nursing mother has no business to fret.She must turn her mind away from her grief to the comfort that lies in her lap.Know you not that the child pines if the mother vexes herself? This comes of your reading and writing.
Those idle crafts befit a man; but they keep all useful knowledge out of a woman.The child must be weaned.""Oh, you cruel woman," cried Margaret vehemently; "I am sorry Isent for you.Would you rob me of the only bit of comfort I have in the world? A-nursing my Gerard, I forget I am the most unhappy creature beneath the sun.""That you do not," was the retort, "or he would not be the way he is.""Mother!" said Margaret imploringly,"'Tis hard," replied Catherine, relenting."But bethink thee;would it not be harder to look down and see his lovely wee face a-looking up at you out of a little coffin?""Oh, Jesu!"
"And how could you face your other troubles with your heart aye full, and your lap empty?""Oh, mother, I consent to anything.Only save my boy.""That is a good lass, Trust to me! I do stand by, and see clearer than thou."Unfortunately there was another consent to be gained - the babe's;and he was more refractory than his mother.
"There," said Margaret, trying to affect regret at his misbehaviour; "he loves me too well."But Catherine was a match for them both.As she came along she had observed a healthy young woman, sitting outside her own door, with an infant, hard by.She went and told her the case; and would she nurse the pining child for the nonce, till she had matters ready to wean him?
The young woman consented with a smile, and popped her child into the cradle, and came into Margaret's house.She dropped a curtsey, and Catherine put the child into her hands.She examined, and pitied it, and purred over it, and proceeded to nurse it, just as if it had been her own,Margaret, who had been paralyzed at her assurance, cast a rueful look at Catherine, and burst out crying.
The visitor looked up."What is to do? Wife, ye told me not the mother was unwilling.""She is not: she is only a fool.Never heed her; and you, Margaret, I am ashamed of you.""You are a cruel, hard-hearted woman," sobbed Margaret.
"Them as take in hand to guide the weak need be hardish.And you will excuse me; but you are not my flesh and blood; and your boy is."After giving this blunt speech time to sink, she added, "Come now, she is robbing her own to save yours, and you can think of nothing better than bursting out a-blubbering in the woman's face.Out fie, for shame!""Nay, wife," said the nurse.'Thank Heaven, I have enough for my own and for hers to boot.And prithee wyte not on her! Maybe the troubles o' life ha' soured her own milk.""and her heart into the bargain," said the remorseless Catherine.
Margaret looked her full in the face; and down went her eyes.
"I know I ought to be very grateful to you," sobbed Margaret to the nurse: then turned her head and leaned away over the chair, not to witness the intolerable sight of another nursing her Gerard, and Gerard drawing no distinction between this new mother and her the banished one.
The nurse replied, "You are very welcome, my poor woman.And so are you, Mistress Catherine, which are my townswoman, and know it not,""What, are ye from Tergou? all the better, But I cannot call your face to mind.""Oh, you know not me: my husband and me, we are very humble folk by you.But true Eli and his wife are known of all the town; and respected, So, I am at your call, dame; and at yours, wife; and yours, my pretty poppet; night or day.""There's a woman of the right old sort," said Catherine, as the door closed upon her.
"I HATE her.I HATE her.I HATE her," said Margaret, with wonderful fervour.
Catherine only laughed at this outburst.
