Lysbeth | Page 5

of that there could be no doubt whatever, for had not her father
confessor told her that thus alone might their souls be saved from the
grasp of the Evil One?
The thought was comforting, still Lysbeth felt upset, and not a little
rejoiced when she saw Dirk van Goorl skating towards her
accompanied by another young man, also a cousin of her own on her
mother's side who was destined in days to come to earn himself an
immortal renown-- young Pieter van de Werff. The two took off their
bonnets to her, Dirk van Goorl revealing in the act a head of fair hair
beneath which his steady blue eyes shone in a rather thick-set,
self-contained face. Lysbeth's temper, always somewhat quick, was
ruffled, and she showed it in her manner.
"I thought, cousins, that we were to meet at three, and the kirk clock
yonder has just chimed half-past," she said, addressing them both, but

looking--not too sweetly--at Dirk van Goorl.
"That's right, cousin," answered Pieter, a pleasant-faced and alert young
man, "look at /him/, scold /him/, for he is to blame. Ever since a quarter
past two have I--I who must drive a sledge in the great race and am
backed to win--been waiting outside that factory in the snow, but, upon
my honour, he did not appear until seven minutes since. Yes, we have
done the whole distance in seven minutes, and I call that very good
skating."
"I thought as much," said Lysbeth. "Dirk can only keep an appointment
with a church bell or a stadhuis chandelier."
"It was not my fault," broke in Dirk in his slow voice; "I have my
business to attend. I promised to wait until the metal had cooled
sufficiently, and hot bronze takes no account of ice-parties and sledge
races."
"So I suppose that you stopped to blow on it, cousin. Well, the result is
that, being quite unescorted, I have been obliged to listen to things
which I did not wish to hear."
"What do you mean?" asked Dirk, taking fire at once.
Then she told them something of what the woman who called herself
the Mare had said to her, adding, "Doubtless the poor creature is a
heretic and deserves all that has happened to her. But it is dreadfully
sad, and I came here to enjoy myself, not to be sad."
Between the two young men there passed a glance which was full of
meaning. But it was Dirk who spoke. The other, more cautious,
remained silent.
"Why do you say that, Cousin Lysbeth?" he asked in a new voice, a
voice thick and eager. "Why do you say that she deserves all that can
happen to her? I have heard of this poor creature who is called Mother
Martha, or the Mare, although I have never seen her myself. She was
noble-born, much better born than any of us three, and very fair--once

they called her the Lily of Brussels--when she was the Vrouw van
Muyden, and she has suffered dreadfully, for one reason only, because
she and hers did not worship God as you worship Him."
"As we worship Him," broke in Van de Werff with a cough.
"No," answered Dirk sullenly, "as our Cousin Lysbeth van Hout
worships Him. For that reason only they killed her husband and her
little son, and drove her mad, so that she lives among the reeds of the
Haarlemer Meer like a beast in its den; yes, they, the Spaniards and
their Spanish priests, as I daresay that they will kill us also."
"Don't you think that it is getting rather cold standing here?" interrupted
Pieter van de Werff before she could answer. "Look, the sledge races
are just beginning. Come, cousin, give me your hand," and, taking
Lysbeth by the arm, he skated off into the throng, followed at a
distance by Dirk and the serving-maid, Greta.
"Cousin," he whispered as he went, "this is not my place, it is Dirk's
place, but I pray you as you love him--I beg your pardon--as you
esteem a worthy relative--do not enter into a religious argument with
him here in public, where even the ice and sky are two great ears. It is
not safe, little cousin, I swear to you that it is not safe."
In the centre of the mere the great event of the day, the sledge races,
were now in progress. As the competitors were many these must be run
in heats, the winners of each heat standing on one side to compete in
the final contest. Now these victors had a pretty prerogative not unlike
that accorded to certain dancers in the cotillion of modern days. Each
driver of a sledge was bound to carry a passenger in the little car in
front of