"But I must demand an audience of his majesty, and explain."

"Explain--the very attempt will be considered as a proof of your guilt; no, no, as a sincere friend I should advise you to be quiet, and to take such steps as the case requires. That frown, that treatment of you in public, is sufficient to tell me that you must prepare for the event.

Can you expect a king to publicly retract?"

"Retract! no--I do not require a public apology from my sovereign."

"But if, having frowned upon you publicly, he again smiles upon you publicly, he does retract. He acknowledges that he was in error, and it becomes a public apology."

"God in heaven! then I am lost," replied the syndic, throwing himself back in his chair. "Do you really think so, Mynheer Ramsay?"

"I do not say that you are lost. At present, you have only lost the favour of the king; but you can do without that, Mynheer Krause."

"Do without that!--but you do not know that without that I am lost. Am I not syndic of this town of Amsterdam, and can I expect to hold such an important situation if I am out of favour?"

"Very true, Mynheer Krause; but what can be done? you are assailed in the dark; you do not know the charges brought against you, and therefore cannot refute or parry them."

"But what charges can they bring against me?"

"There can be but one charge against a person in your high situation-- that of disaffection."

"Disaffection! I who am and have always been so devoted!"

"The most disaffected generally appear the most devoted; Mynheer Krause, that will not help you."

"My God! then," exclaimed Krause, with animation, "what will, if loyalty is to be construed into a sign of disaffection?"

"Nothing," replied Ramsay, coolly. "Suspicion in the heart of a king is never to be effaced, and disaffection may be magnified into high treason."

"Bless me!" exclaimed Van Krause, crossing his hands on his heart in utter despair. "My dear Mynheer Ramsay, will you give me your opinion how I should act?"

"There is no saying how far you may be right in your conjectures, Mynheer Krause," replied Ramsay: "you may have have been mistaken."

"No, no, he frowned--looked cross--I see his face now."

"Yes, but a little thing will sour the face of royalty; his corn may have pinched him at the time, he might have had a twinge in the bowels-- his voyage may have affected him."

"He smiled upon others, upon my friend Engelback, very graciously."

This was the very party who had prepared the charges against Krause--his own very particular friend.

"Did he?" replied Ramsay. "Then, depend upon it, that's the very man who has belied you."

"What, Engelback? my particular friend?"

"Yes, I should imagine so. Tell me, Mynheer Krause, I trust you have never entrusted to him the important secrets which I have made you acquainted with, for if you have, your knowledge of them would be quite sufficient."

"My knowledge of them! I really cannot understand that. How can my knowledge of what is going on among the king's friends and counsellors be a cause of suspicion?"

"Why, Mynheer Krause, because the king is surrounded by many who are retained from policy and fear of them. If these secrets are made known contrary to oath, is it not clear that the parties so revealing them must be no sincere friends of his majesty's, and will it not be naturally concluded that those who have possession of them are equally his open or secret enemies?"

"But then, Mynheer Ramsay, by that rule you must be his majesty's enemy."

"That does not follow, Mynheer Krause; I may obtain the secrets from those who are not so partial to his majesty as they are to me, but that does not disprove my loyalty. To expose them would of course render me liable to suspicion--but I guard them carefully."

"I have not told a word to a soul, but to you, my dear Mynheer Krause, and I have felt assured that you were much too loyal to make known to any one, what it was your duty to your king to keep secret; surely, Mynheer Krause, you have not trusted that man?"

"I may have given a hint or so--I'm afraid that I did; but he is my most particular friend."

"If that is the case," replied Ramsay, "I am not at all surprised at the king's frowning on you: Engelback having intelligence from you, supposed to be known only to the highest authorities, has thought it his duty to communicate it to Government, and you are now suspected."

"God in heaven! I wish I never had your secrets, Mynheer Ramsay. It appears, then, that I have committed treason without knowing it."

"At all events, you have incurred suspicion. It is a pity that you mentioned what I confided to you: but what's done cannot be helped; you must now be active."

"What must I, my dear friend?"

"Expect the worst and be prepared for it--you are wealthy, Mr Van Krause, and that will not be in your favour, it will only hasten the explosion, which, sooner or later, will take place. Remit as much of your money as you can to where it will be secure from the spoilers.

Convert all that you can into gold, that you may take advantage of the first opportunity, if necessary, of flying from their vengeance. Do all this very quietly. Go on, as usual, as if nothing had occurred--talk with your friend Engelback--perform your duties as syndic. It may blow over, although I am afraid not. At all events you will have, in all probability, some warning, as they will displace you as syndic before they proceed further. I have only one thing to add. I am your guest, and depend upon it shall share your fortune whatever it may be; if you are thrown into prison, I am certain to be sent there also. You may therefore command me as you please. I will not desert you, you may depend upon it."

"My dear young man, you are indeed a friend, and your advice is good.

My poor Wilhelmina, what would become of her?"

"Yes, indeed: used to luxury--her father in prison, perhaps his head at the gates--his whole property confiscated, and all because he had the earliest intelligence. Such is the reward of loyalty."

"Yes, indeed," repeated the syndic, "'put not your trust in princes,'

says the psalmist. If such is to be the return for my loyalty--but there is no time to lose. I must send, this post, to Hamburgh and Frankfort. Many thanks, my dear friend, for your kind counsel, which I shall follow;" so saying, Mynheer Krause went to his room, threw off his gown and chains in a passion, and hastened to his counting--house to write his important letters.

We may now take this opportunity of informing the reader of what had occurred in the house of the syndic. Ramsay had, as may be supposed, gained the affections of Wilhelmina; had told his love, and received her acknowledgment in return; he had also gained such a power over her, that she had agreed to conceal their attachment from her father; as Ramsay wished first, he asserted, to be possessed of a certain property which he daily expected would fall to him, and until that, he did not think that he had any right to aspire to the hand of Wilhelmina.

That Ramsay was most seriously in love there was no doubt; he would have wedded Wilhelmina, even if she had not a six-pence; but, at the same time, he was too well aware of the advantages of wealth not to fully appreciate it, and he felt the necessity and the justice to Wilhelmina, that she should not be deprived, by his means, of those luxuries to which she had been brought up. But here there was a difficulty, arising from his espousing the very opposite cause to that espoused by Mynheer Krause, for the difference of religion he very rightly considered as a mere trifle compared with the difference in political feelings. He had already weaned Wilhelmina from the political bias imbibed from her father, and his connexions, without acquainting her with his belonging to the opposite party, for the present. It had been his intention, as soon as his services were required elsewhere, to have demanded Wilhelmina's hand from her father, still leaving him in error as to his politics; and by taking her with him, after the marriage, to the court of St. Germain, to have allowed Mynheer Krause to think what he pleased, but not to enter into any explanation: but, as Ramsay truly observed, Mynheer Krause had, by his not retaining the secrets confided to him, rendered himself suspected, and once suspected with King William, his disgrace, if not ruin, was sure to follow. This fact, so important to Ramsay's plans, had been communicated in the extracts made by Vanslyperken from the last despatches, and Ramsay had been calculating the consequences when Mynheer Krause returned discomfited from the presence of the king.

That Ramsay played a very diplomatic game in the conversation which we have repeated is true; but still it was the best game for Krause as well as for his own interests, as the events will show. We must, however, remind the reader that Ramsay had no idea whatever of the double treachery on the part of Vanslyperken, in copying all the letters sent by and to him, us well as extracting from the Government despatches.

"My dearest Edward, what has detained you so long from me this morning,"

inquired Wilhelmina when he entered the music-room, about an hour after his conversation with the syndic.

Ramsay then entered into the detail of what had occurred, and wove in such remarks of his own as were calculated to disgust Wilhelmina with the conduct of King William, and to make her consider her father as an injured man. He informed her of the advice he had given him, and then pointed out to her the propriety of her enforcing his following it with all the arguments of persuasion in her power.

Wilhelmina's indignation was roused; and she did not fail, when speaking with her father, to rail in no measured tones against the king, and to press him to quit a country where he had been so ill-used. Mynheer Krause felt the same; his pride had been severely injured; and it may be truly said, that one of the staunchest adherents of the Protestant King was lost by a combination of circumstances as peculiar as they were unexpected.

In the meantime, the corporal had gone on shore as usual, and made the widow acquainted with the last attempt upon Smallbones, and the revenge of the ship's company. Babette had also done her part.

She had found out that Ramsay lived in the house of the syndic, and that he was the passenger brought over by Vanslyperken in the cutter.

The widow, who had now almost arranged her plans, received Vanslyperken more amicably than ever; anathematised the supposed defunct Smallbones; shed tears over the stump of Snarleyyow, and asked Vanslyperken when he intended to give up the nasty cutter and live quietly on shore.