Spaniards must search them all, for here upon the lonely waters no
spies or hound will help them." Then she began to row again without even
looking round, and presently they were in the clump of reeds from which
they had started.

"I must be going home," faltered Lysbeth.

"No," answered Martha, "it is too late, you have slept long. Look, the
sun is westering fast, this night you must stop with me. Oh! do not be
afraid, my fare is rough, but it is sweet and fresh and plenty; fish
from the mere as much as you will, for who can catch them better than I?
And water-fowl that I snare, yes, and their eggs; moreover, dried flesh
and bacon which I get from the mainland, for there I have friends whom
sometimes I meet at night."

So Lysbeth yielded, for the great peace of this lake pleased her. Oh!
after all that she had gone through it was like heaven to watch the sun
sinking towards the quiet water, to hear the wild-fowl call, to see the
fish leap and the halcyons flash by, and above all to be sure that by
nothing short of a miracle could this divine silence, broken only by
Nature's voices, be defiled with the sound of the hated accents of the
man who had ruined and betrayed her. Yes, she was weary, and a strange
unaccustomed langour crept over her; she would rest there this night
also.

So they went back to the hut, and made ready their evening meal, and as
she fried the fish over the fire of peats, verily Lysbeth found herself
laughing like a girl again. Then they ate it with appetite, and after
it was done, Mother Martha prayed aloud; yes, and without fear, although
she knew Lysbeth to be a Catholic, read from her one treasure, a
Testament, crouching there in the light of the fire and saying:

"See, lady, what a place this is for a heretic to hide in. Where else
may a woman read from the Bible and fear no spy or priest?" Remembering
a certain story, Lysbeth shivered at her words.

"Now," said the Mare, when she had finished reading, "tell me before
you sleep, what it was that brought you into the waters of the Haarlemer
Meer, and what that Spanish man has done to you. Do not be afraid, for
though I am mad, or so they say, I can keep counsel, and between you and
me are many bonds, Carolus van Hout's daughter, some of which you know
and see, and some that you can neither know nor see, but which God will
weave in His own season."

Lysbeth looked at the weird countenance, distorted and made unhuman by
long torment of bo