The Golden Grasshopper | Page 3

even with the very ministers of the Emperor. Still his heart leaned towards the side of compassion. His features gradually relaxed as his feelings softened towards the distressed lady and her child.
"Whatever the risk, I will befriend your boy, madam," he said. "Come here, Ernst; your mother wishes you to trust to me. Lady, I would gladly afford you also any assistance in my power," he continued, interrupted, however, by Madame Verner, who poured out before him her feelings of gratitude.
"I am resolved to share the lot of my husband," she answered. "While he lives I will not desert him."
"You are a noble lady, and I would not interfere with your purpose," said the merchant; "but consider that you will not be, able to aid your husband, and you may only sacrifice your own life."
"That I am prepared to do," said the lady, rising. "May God reward you, as you protect my child!"
She pressed the boy to her bosom, again uttered an expression of gratitude to the merchant, and, not daring to trust herself with another look at her child, hastened from the room. I was that little boy, Ernst Verner. It was the last time I heard the voice of my beloved mother. I saw her, yes, once, but oh! my heart sickens even now as I bring the fearful vision to my sight.
CHAPTER TWO.
FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.
Master Gresham, leaving Richard Clough at his desk, took Ernst Verner by the hand, and led him out of the room. They passed along a gallery with a richly carved balustrade on one side, and portraits of burgomasters, warriors, and stately dames, hanging from the wall on the other. Opening a door, several female voices saluted them.
At one end of the room sat a tall and graceful lady, young and handsome, with an embroidery frame before her. Her head-dress was a small sort of hood, richly ornamented, with a veil falling behind. She had a long waist with an embroidered stomacher, and a handsome girdle which hung down in front. Her gown was open, showing a richly-decorated petticoat beneath, so long as completely to hide her feet when she stood up on the entrance of her husband, Master Gresham. On either side of the room were several damsels with spinning-wheels and distaffs by their sides, or else actively plying their needles. A little boy, fair and delicate--a year or two younger than Ernst, he appeared--was playing on the ground near the couch on which the lady sat, with some of those wonderful toys for which Holland was already celebrated. The lady looked up as Master Gresham approached.
"What child have you there, my dear lord?" she asked.
"One in whom perchance you will take an interest, Lady Anne, when you hear his history," answered Master Gresham; and he detailed in a few words the visit of the boy's mother, and her petition that the child might be taken care of.
"We cannot refuse the charge which Heaven has sent us," answered the lady. "He may be a companion and playmate to our little Richard, and I doubt not a blessing to us, if we are faithful to our trust."
From that day forward Ernst became one of the family of Master Thomas Gresham. In the house he had many amusements; but his life was a somewhat dull one notwithstanding, for he was never allowed to go abroad, unless in the company of his patron. The reason of this did not occur to him. Master Gresham, however, acted wisely. He knew that those who had seized the child's parents might seize the boy also, and though from his youth he might escape death, he would certainly be brought up as a Romanist--a proceeding which the honest Protestant Englishman greatly dreaded. There was no lack of company, however, in the house. Often entertainments were given to various guests. Seldom indeed was the merchant's hospitable board spread without several visitors being present.
Soon after Ernst had become an inmate of Master Gresham's house, a personage arrived who was treated with great consideration. He had come from the South, after having visited the Holy Land, and appeared to have seen much of the world besides. Indeed, there were few countries about which he had not something to say. There was nothing very remarkable about his appearance. He was slightly built, and of middle size; but he had that hardy, wiry look, which showed that he was capable of undergoing great fatigue and enduring an excess of heat without inconvenience, if not of cold. His ordinary dress was that of a simple gentleman, with a flat cap, having a coif tying beneath the chin and completely concealing his hair. His cloak, or gown, was of fine cloth, trimmed with rich fur, and having long sleeves. Beneath it was a closely-buttoned waistcoat, while he