What Dolph whispered in her ear, that long summer evening, it is
impossible to say: his words were so low and indistinct, that they
never reached the ear of the historian. It is probable, however, that
they were to the purpose; for he had a natural talent at pleasing the
sex, and was never long in company with a petticoat without paying
proper court to it. In the meantime, the visitors, one by one,
departed; Antony Vander Heyden, who had fairly talked himself silent,
sat nodding alone in his chair by the door, when he was suddenly
aroused by a hearty salute with which Dolph Heyliger had unguardedly
rounded off one of his periods, and which echoed through the still
chamber like the report of a pistol. The Heer started up, rubbed his
eyes, called for lights, and observed, that it was high time to go to
bed; though, on parting for the night, he squeezed Dolph heartily by
the hand, looked kindly in his face, and shook his head knowingly; for
the Heer well remembered what he himself had been at the youngster's
age.
The chamber in which our hero was lodged was spacious, and panelled
with oak. It was furnished with clothes-presses, and mighty chests of
drawers, well waxed, and glittering with brass ornaments.
Pages:
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555