grew high. The air too was
very clear and calm, and among the reeds, now turning golden at their
tips, the finches flew and chirped, forgetful that winter was at hand.
So sweet and peaceful was the scene that Lysbeth, also forgetful of many
things, surveyed it with a kind of rapture. She knew not why, but her
heart was happy that morning; it was as though a dark cloud had passed
from her life; as though the blue skies of peace and joy were spread
about her. Doubtless other clouds might appear upon the horizon;
doubtless in their season they would appear, but she felt that this
horizon was as yet a long way off, and meanwhile above her bent the
tender sky, serene and sweet and happy.

Upon the crisp grass behind her suddenly she heard a footfall, a new
footfall, not that of the long, stealthy stride of Martha, who was
called 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 kind
face wreathed in a happy smile, Dirk with his arms outstretched towards
her. Lysbeth said nothing, she could not speak, only she stood still
gazing, gazing, gazing, and always he came on, till now his arms were
round 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 the
holiest and purest woman who ever walked this earth; you are an angel
upon this earth; you are the woman who gave her honour to save the man
she loved. Oh! be silent, be silent, I have heard the story; I know it
every word, and here I kneel before you, and, next to my God, I worship
you, 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," and
he seized her hands and kissed them, yes, and the hem of her garment and
kissed it also.

So these two plighted their troth.

Afterwards Lysbeth heard all the story. Montalvo had been put upon his
trial, and, as it chanced, things went hard with him. Among his judges
one was a great Netherlander lord, who desired to uphold the rights of
his countrymen; one was a high ecclesiastic, who was furious because of
the fraud that had been played upon the Church, which had been trapped
into celebrating a bigamous marriage; a