He then began to curse his boon companions, and
declare they had stolen away his legs. "He could feel nothing below the
waist."
"Alas, poor wretch," said Margaret. She turned very gravely to the men,
and said, "Leave him here. And if you have brought him to this, go on
your knees, for you have spoiled him for life. He will never walk again;
his back is broken."
The drunken man caught these words, and the foolish look of intoxication
fled, and a glare of anguish took its place. "The curse," he groaned;
"the curse!"
Margaret and Reicht Heynes carried him carefully, and laid him on the
softest bed.
"I must do as he would do," whispered Margaret. "He was kind to
Ghysbrecht."
Her opinion was verified, Sybrandt's spine was fatally injured; and
he lay groaning and helpless, fed and tended by her he had so deeply
injured.
The news was sent to Tergou, and Catherine came over.
It was a terrible blow to her. Moreover, she accused herself as the
cause. "Oh, false wife; oh, weak mother," she cried, "I am rightly
punished for my treason to my poor Eli."
She sat for hours at a time by his bedside rocking herself in silence,
and was never quite herself again; and the first grey hairs began to
come in her poor head from that hour.
As for Sybrandt, all his cry was now for Gerard, He used to whine
to Margaret like a suffering hound, "Oh, sweet Margaret, oh, bonny
Margaret, for our Lady's sake find Gerard, and bid him take his curse
off me.
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