The Argosy — page 223: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

204 Caterina. to be his wife. Vrow Sperling, of the Damask factory, mother of three blooming daughters, turned up her nose at the outlandish bride whom Jacob chose; but her husband and sons thought he had been fortunate. The Heemskerks were so wealthy that there was no need for Caterina to sell her pictures, but she continued to execute orders industriously, and the father and son became accustomed to her mania. The old man easily reconciled himself to a craze that brought in money, and Jacob was glad his wife should have a pursuit that amused her during his long absences. He never tired of makirg her paint his ship, and she knew every rope, every sail in his new vessel, the Orange. _ Her great picture, the Fireships bearing down upon the bridge of boats below Antwerp, hung over the heads of their mightinesses, the States-General, in the Raadzaal where they met to consult, reminding them of anoble struggle for fatherland. So Heemskerk’s wife was quite a personage in Amsterdam and was a good deal respected and admired. Jacob called her his “little” vrow, but she was a tall, imposing- looking woman, and now as she yielded to the clasp of his strong arms her head was on a level with his own. ‘The old man was gone, but someone peeped at them from behind the arras, someone with a cruel, forbidding face—Mistress Truda the housekeeper, who had been sole ruler in the house before Caterina came. “ Ay, ay, cry away, you Papist madam,” she muttered. ‘‘Mynheer Jacob 1s going to leave you, and we'll see what your Saints can do to help you. Ay, sorceress, we'll see.” The look, the speech, was that of an enemy, and Caterina was unconscious that she had an enemy in the world, much less beneath her own roof. She clung round her husband’s neck, sobbing. ‘‘ Do not leave me, Jacob, do not leave me, my darling! Stay with me if you love me. Ah, grant my request.” ‘“T cannot, heart’s treasure,” replied the Skipper’s deep tones. “TI have my duty to perform. I must explore the Polar seas; I must find out a passage to Cathay.” “Must? Oh, Jacob,” plained the silvery voice of his wife, ‘* thou hast no need of pay. ‘Thy father and I make money enough to keep thee in luxury at home.” “Tut, tut, love, wouldst make thy husband out an unworthy hound? No,” more gently, “no, I do not go for hire. I go for honour—for fatherland ; to win fame and wealth for Holland, not for myself.” “Ah, husband, I doubt thou art thinking a little of thyself too. Thy passion for adventure makes thee ever a rover.” | “True, Caterina mia ; true, my southern dove,” replied the honest — Dutchman. “I do love adventure—it is my life.” GOMIGDIOOKS.COoMm |