As to her old friend,
Peter de Groodt, he was a poor man, whose pity, and prayers, and
advice could be of but little avail, so he gave her all that was in
his power--he gave her shelter.
To the humble dwelling of Peter de Groodt, then, did Dolph turn his
steps. On his way thither, he recalled all the tenderness and kindness
of his simple-hearted parent, her indulgence of his errors, her
blindness to his faults; and then he bethought himself of his own
idle, harum-scarum life. "I've been a sad scape-grace," said Dolph,
shaking his head sorrowfully. "I've been a complete sink-pocket,
that's the truth of it!--But," added he, briskly, and clasping his
hands, "only let her live--only let her live--and I'll show myself
indeed a son!"
As Dolph approached the house, he met Peter de Groodt coming out of
it. The old man started back aghast, doubting whether it was not a
ghost that stood before him. It being bright daylight, however, Peter
soon plucked up heart, satisfied that no ghost dare show his face in
such clear sunshine. Dolph now learned from the worthy sexton the
consternation and rumour to which his mysterious disappearance had
given rise. It had been universally believed that he had been spirited
away by those hobgoblin gentry that infested the haunted house; and
old Abraham Vandozer, who lived by the great button-wood trees, at the
three-mile stone, affirmed, that he had heard a terrible noise in the
air, as he was going home late at night, which seemed just as if a
flight of wild geese were overhead, passing off towards the northward.
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