CHAPTER XXIV.
WHAT THE MORROW BROUGHT.
After the first few hours of bitter anguish were over, Reynold Van Straalen rose up a new man. No vain regrets, no curses passed his lips. The terrible weight of sorrow which had overtaken him was to him as the accolade of knighthood, singling him out because of his mighty sorrow and mighty wrong, as the outspoken champion in the cause of liberty and truth.
Before his departure he was summoned again to meet his superior officer.
“I have been thinking, comrade, what I can do to help you. Your case is desperate! Why do you not give up your Protestant notions and join the winning side?”
“Because I have a conscience, and I must heed its dictum or suffer.”
“I expected some such reply as that,” said the general, good humoredly. “You will die for a seruple yet. Now as to myself, the few prayers I say in the course of a year could be spoken in one
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