Somewhat slowly, lying there in the island hut, Lysbeth won back herstrength. The Mare, or Mother Martha, as Lysbeth had now learned to callher, tended her as few midwives would have done. Food, too, she hadin plenty, for Martha snared the fowl and caught the fish, or she madevisits to the mainland, and thence brought eggs and milk and flesh,which, so she said, the boors of that country gave her as much as shewanted of them. Also, to while away the hours, she would read to her outof the Testament, and from that reading Lysbeth learnt many things whichuntil then she had not known. Indeed, before it was done with--Catholicthough she was--she began to wonder in what lay the wickedness of theseheretics, and how it came about that they were worthy of death andtorment, since, sooth to say, in this Book she could find no law towhich their lives and doctrine seemed to give offence.
Thus it happened that Martha, the fierce, half-crazy water-dweller,sowed the seed in Lysbeth's heart that was to bear fruit in due season.
When three weeks had gone by and Lysbeth was on her feet again, thoughas yet scarcely strong enough to travel, Martha told her that she hadbusiness which would keep her from home a night, but what the businesswas she refused to say. Accordingly on a certain afternoon, having leftgood store of all things to Lysbeth's hand, the Mare departed in herskiff, nor did she return till after midday on the morrow. Now Lysbethtalked of leaving the island, but Martha would not suffer it, sayingthat if she desired to go she must swim, and indeed when Lysbeth wentto look she found that the boat had been hidden elsewhere. So, nothingloth, she stayed on, and in the crisp autumn air her health and beautycame back to her, till she was once more much as she had been before theday when she went sledging with Juan de Montalvo.
On a November morning, leaving her infant in the hut with Martha, whohad sworn to her on the Bible that she would not harm it, Lysbeth walkedto the extremity of the island. During the night the first sharp frostof late autumn had fallen, making a thin film of ice upon the surfaceof the lake, which melted rapidly as the sun grew high. The air too wasvery clear and calm, and among the reeds, now turning golden at theirtips, the finches flew and chirped, forgetful that winter was at hand.So sweet and peaceful was the scene that Lysbeth, also forgetful of manythings, surveyed it with a kind of rapture. She knew not why, but herheart was happy that morning; it was as though a dark cloud had passedfrom her life; as though the blue skies of peace and joy were spreadabout her. Doubtless other clouds might appear upon the horizon;doubtless in their season they would appear, but she felt that thishorizon was as yet a long way off, and meanwhile above her bent thetender sky, serene and sweet and happy.
Upon the crisp grass behind her suddenly she heard a footfall, a newfootfall, not that of the long, stealthy stride of Martha, who wascalled the Mare, and swung round upon her heel to meet it.
Oh, God! Who was this? Oh, God! there before her stood Dirk van Goorl.Dirk, and no other than Dirk, unless she dreamed, Dirk with his kindface wreathed in a happy smile, Dirk with his arms outstretched towardsher. Lysbeth said nothing, she could not speak, only she stood stillgazing, gazing, gazing, and always he came on, till now his arms wereround her. Then she sprang back.
"Do not touch me," she cried, "remember what I am and why I stay here."
"I know well what you are, Lysbeth," he answered slowly; "you are theholiest and purest woman who ever walked this earth; you are an angelupon this earth; you are the woman who gave her honour to save the manshe loved. Oh! be silent, be silent, I have heard the story; I know itevery word, and here I kneel before you, and, next to my God, I worshipyou, Lysbeth, I worship you."
"But the child," she murmured, "it lives, and it is mine and the man's."
Dirk's face hardened a little, but he only answered:
"We must bear our burdens; you have borne yours, I must bear mine," andhe seized her hands and kissed them, yes, and the hem of her garment andkissed it also.
So these two plighted their troth.
Afterwards Lysbeth heard all the story. Montalvo had been put upon histrial, and, as it chanced, things went hard with him. Among his judgesone was a great Netherlander lord, who desired to uphold the rights ofhis countrymen; one was a high ecclesiastic, who was furious because ofthe fraud that had been played upon the Church, which had been trappedinto celebrating a bigamous marriage; and a third was a Spanish grandee,who, as it happened, knew the family of the first wife who had beendeserted.
Therefore, for the luckless Montalvo, when the case had been provedto the hilt against him by the evidence of the priest who brought theletter, of the wife's letters, and of the truculent Black Meg, who nowfound an opportunity of paying back "hot water for cold," there waslittle mercy. His character was bad, and it was said, moreover, thatbecause of his cruelties and the shame she had suffered at his hands,Lysbeth van Hout had committed suicide. At least, this was certain, thatshe was seen running at night towards the Haarlemer Meer, and that afterthis, search as her friends would, nothing more could be heard of her.
So, that an example might be made, although he writhed and fenced hisbest, the noble captain, Count Juan de Montalvo, was sent to serve forfourteen years in the galleys as a common slave. And there, for thewhile, was an end of him.
There also was an end of the strange and tragic courtship of Dirk vanGoorl and Lysbeth van Hout.
Six months afterwards they were married, and by Dirk's wish took thechild, who was christened Adrian, to live with them. A few months laterLysbeth entered the community of the New Religion, and less than twoyears after her marriage a son was born to her, the hero of this story,who was named Foy.
As it happened, she bore no other children.
BOOK THE SECOND
THE RIPENING
Lysbeth, a Tale of the Dutch Page 18
