great magistrate was remarkable. She clutched her companion's arm and said piteously:
“Save me, Heer Chenoweth. I think my father favors that man's suit.”
All coquetry was gone from the girl's manner. Her face in its evident anxiety was womanly and tender. There was a lurking wistfulness in the brown eyes which touched the young man.
“Hilvardine, do you love me? May I ask your father this very night for your hand?”
The maiden was the picture of sweet confusion, and her answer was very faint, but it was eminently satisfactory to her companion. They passed up the steps into the house and Hilvardine fled precipitately to her room.
“Mynheer Chenoweth!” announced a servant in rich livery as he opened the door of the handsome reception-room, in which sat the Burgomaster, Anthony Van Straalen, and his wife. There was a disturbed expression on Mistress Van Straalen's face, and her husband wore a look of dogged resolution. It was evident that there had been a family difference, and the atmosphere of the room was still murky from the war of words.
The Burgomaster greeted the young advocate with distant politeness, but his wife gave him a cordial welcome.
After a few commonplace remarks, Conrad made known the object of his visit.
