Herr Van Hout's kind wife threw her arm around Maria, kissed her
forehead, and whispered:

"Turn away from the other women and dry your eyes."




CHAPTER XXI.

A story is told of a condemned man, whom his cruel executioner cast into
a prison of ingenious structure. Each day the walls of this cage grew
narrower and narrower, each day they pressed nearer and nearer to the
unfortunate prisoner, until in despair he died and the dungeon became his
coffin. Even so, league by league, the iron barriers of the Spanish
regiments drew nearer and nearer Leyden, and, if they succeeded in
destroying the resistance of their victim, the latter was threatened with
a still more cruel and pitiless end than that of the unhappy prisoner.
The girdle Valdez, King Philip's commander, and his skilful lieutenant,
Don Ayala, had drawn around the city in less than two days, was already
nearly closed, the fort of Valkenburg, strengthened with the utmost care,
belonged to the enemy, and the danger had advanced more rapidly and with
far more irresistible strength, than even the most timid citizens had
feared. If Leyden fell, its houses would be delivered to fire and
pillage, its men to death, its women to disgrace--this was guaranteed by
the fate of other conquered cities and the Spanish nature.

Who could imagine the guardian angel of the busy city, except under a
sullen sky, with clouded brow and anxious eyes, and yet it looked as gay
and bright at the White Gate as if a spring festival was drawing to a