He went in, and upstairs, tried the door of his
mother's room, and found it fastened within. He knocked, heard the
grumbling of the old woman at her being obliged to rise from her chair:
she opened the door, and Vanslyperken, as soon as he was in, slammed it
to, and exhausted with his emotions, fell back in a chair.
"Hey day! and what's the matter now?" cried the old woman, in Dutch;
"one would think that you had been waylaid, robbed, and almost
murdered."
"Murdered!" stammered Vanslyperken; "yes--it was murder."
"What was murder, my child?" replied the old woman, reseating herself.
"Did I say murder, mother?" said Vanslyperken, wiping the blended rain
and perspiration from his brow with a cotton handkerchief.
"Yes, you did, Cornelius Vanslyperken; not that I believe a craven like
you would ever attempt such a thing."
"But I have, mother. I have done the deed," replied Vanslyperken.
"You have!" cried his mother; "then at last you have done something, and
I shall respect you. Come, come, child, cheer up, and tell me all about
it. There is a slight twinge the first time--but the second is nothing.
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