“The biggest in Tergon,” growled Giles, fastening on again.
At this Kate sat quietly down and cried. Her mother came in almost at that moment, and Giles hurled himself under the table, and there glared.
“What is to do now?” said the dame, sharply. Then turning her experienced eyes on Giles, and observing the position he had taken up, and a sheepish expression, she hinted at cuffing of ears.
“Nay, mother,” said the girl; “it was but a foolish word Giles spoke. I had not noticed it at another time; but I was tired and in care for Gerard, you know.”
“Let no one be in care for me,” said a faint voice at the door, and in tottered Gerard, pale, dusty, and worn out; and, amidst uplifted hands and cries of delight, curiosity and anxiety mingled, dropped almost fainting into the nearest chair.
Beating Rotterdam, like a covert, for Margaret, and the long journey afterwards, had fairly knocked Gerard up. But elastic youth soon revived, and behold him the centre of an eager circle. First of all they must hear about the prizes. Then Gerard told them he had been admitted to see the competitors’ works all laid out in an enormous hall — before the judges pronounced: “Oh, mother! oh, Kate! when I saw the goldsmiths’ work, I had like to have fallen on the floor. I thought not all the goldsmiths on earth had so much gold, silver, jewels, and craft of design and facture. But, in sooth, all the arts are divine.”
Then, to please the females, he described to them the reliquaries, feretories, calices, crosiers, crosses, pyxes, monstrances, and other wonders ecclesiastical, and the goblets, hanaps, watches, clocks, chains, brooches, &c., so that their mouths watered.
“But, Kate, when I came to the illuminated work from Ghent and Bruges, my heart sank. Mine was dirt by the side of it. For the first minute I could almost have cried; but I prayed for a better spirit, and presently I was able to enjoy them, and thank God for those lovely works, and for those skilful, patient craftsmen, that I own my masters. Well, the colored work was so beautiful I forgot all about the black and white. But, next day, when all the other prizes had been given, they came to the writing, and whose name think you was called first?”
“Yours,” said Kate.
The others laughed her to scorn.
“You may laugh,” said Gerard, “but for all that Gerard Gerardzoon of Tergou was the name the herald shouted. I stood stupid; they thrust me forward. Everything swam before my eyes. I don’t know how I found myself kneeling on a cushion at the feet of the duke. He said something to me, but I was so fluttered I could not answer him. So then he put his hand to his side and did not draw a glaive and cut off my dull head, but gave me a gold medal, and there it is.” There was a yell and almost a scramble. “And then he gave me fifteen great bright golden angels. 1 had seen one before, but I never handled one. Here they are.”
“Oh, Gerard! oh, Gerard!”
“There is one for you, our eldest; and one for you, Sybrandt, and for you, Little Mischief; and two for you, Little Lily, because God has afflicted you; and one for myself to buy colours and vellum; and nine for her that nursed us all, and risked the two crowns upon poor Gerard’s hand.”
The gold drew out their several characters. Comelis and Sybrandt clutched each his coin with one glare of greediness and another glare of envy at Kate, who had got two pieces. Giles seized his and rolled it along the floor and gambolled after it. But Kate put down her crutches and sat down, and held out her little arms to Gerard with a heavenly gesture of love and tenderness, and the mother, fairly benumbed at first by the shower of gold that fell on her apron, now cried out, “Leave kissing him, Kate, he is my son, not yours. Ah, Gerard, my child! I have not loved you as you deserved.”
Then Gerard threw himself on his knees beside her, and she flung her arms round him and wept for joy and pride, upon his neck.
“Good lad! good lad!” cried the hosier, with some emotion. “I must go and tell the neighbours. Lend me the medal, Gerard, I’ll show it my good friend, Peter Buyskens; he is always regaling me with how his son Jorian won the tin mug a-shooting at the Butts.”
“Ay, do my man; and show Peter Buyskens one of the angels. Tell him there are fourteen more, where that came from. Mind you bring it me back!”
“Stay a minute, father, there is better news behind,” said Gerard, flushing with joy at the joy he caused.
“Better! Better than this?”
Then Gerard told his interview with the countess, and the house rang with joy.
“Now, God bless the good lady, and bless the Dame Van Eyck! a benefice, our son! My cares are at an end. Gerard, my good friend and master, now we two can die happy whenever our time comes. This dear boy will take our place, and none of these loved ones will want a home or a friend.”
From that hour Gerard was looked upon as the stay of the family. He was a son apart, but in another sense. He was always in the right, and nothing too good for him. Comelis and Sybrandt became more and more jealous of him, and longed for the day he should go to his bene- fice: they would get rid of the favourite, and his reverence’s purse would be open to them. With these views he co-operated. The wound love had given him throbbed duller and duller. His success and the affection and admiration of his parents, made him think more highly of himself, and resent with more spirit Margaret’s ingratitude and discourtesy. For all that, she had power to cool him towards the rest of her sex, and now for every reason he wished to be ordained priest as soon as he could pass the intermediate orders. He knew the Vulgate already better than most of the clergy, and he studied the rubric and the dogmas of the church with his friends the monks; and, the first time the bishop came that way, he applied to be admitted “exorcist,” the third step in holy orders.
The bishop questioned him, and ordained him at
once. He had to kneel, and, after a short prayer,