The Golden Grasshopper | Page 3

at first giving way to my grief and terror.
In vain my husband expostulated with them, and promised to
accompany them quietly if they would set him at liberty. He contrived,
however, to whisper to me, to place our boy in safety, and to endeavour
to escape myself. In spite of my tears and entreaties, my beloved
husband was then dragged off by the officers of the Inquisition, and I
hastened away to obey his directions. My husband's fate is, I fear, too
certainly sealed. The Bible was found in his hands. He had long been
known to be a consistent Protestant. What may be my fate, I know not,
but my desire and hope are to share his. Again, I ask you, sir, will you,
in the abundance of your compassion and charity, take charge of this
boy--soon, I verily believe, to be an orphan? Ernst is his Christian name.
He will, in return, I feel sure, serve you well, and prove true and
faithful."
The merchant cast an eye of compassion on the boy. The mother saw
the look, and trusted that she had gained an advantage.
"Oh! take him, sir, take him! I implore you!" she exclaimed, clasping
her hands. "Should he be deprived of his father and me, as I feel sure he
soon will be, though his life may be spared, he may be brought up by
the priests in the fearful errors of the Romish faith. I appeal to you as a
Protestant. Oh! save him from such a fate! I know no one else who is
able to protect him, but you can do so fully and completely. I ask you
not to bestow wealth on him. I will make over all we possess to you, if
I have the power. Let him only labour for you, and be brought up in the
Reformed faith."
While the lady was speaking, the merchant had been considering how
far granting her request might imperil his own position, where his
business led him into constant intercourse with numerous Roman
Catholics, and sometimes 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