nd
marrying a Spanish don."

"Marrying?" broke in the first, "it was the best that she could do. She
couldn't stop to ask questions. Some corpses must be buried quickly."

Glancing behind her, Lysbeth saw the creature nip her nostrils with her
fingers, as though to shut out an evil smell.

Then she could bear it no longer, and turned upon them.

"You are evil slanderers," she said, and walked away swiftly, pursued by
the sound of their loud, insulting laughter.

At the house she was told that two men were waiting to see her. They
proved to be creditors clamouring for large sums of money, which she
could not pay. Lysbeth told them that she knew nothing of the matter.
Thereupon they showed her her own writing at the foot of deeds, and she
remembered that she had signed more things than she chose to keep count
of, everything indeed that the man who called himself her husband put
before her, if only to win an hour of blessed freedom from his presence.
At length the duns went away vowing that they would have their money if
they dragged the bed from under her.

After that came loneliness and silence. No friend appeared to cheer her.
Indeed, she had no friends left, for by her husband's command she had
broken off her acquaintance with all who after the strange circumstances
connected with her marriage were still inclined to know her. He said
that he would have no chattering Dutch vrouws about the house, and they
said and believed that the Countess de Montalvo had become too proud to
associate with those of her own class and people.

Midday came and she could eat no food; indeed, she had touched none for
twenty-four hours; her gorge rose against it, although in her state
she needed food. Now the shame of her position began to come home to
Lysbeth. She was a wife and no wife; soon she must bear the burden of
motherhood, and oh! what would that child be? And what should she be,
its mother? What, too, would Dirk think of her? Dirk, for whom she had
done and suffered all these things. Through the long afternoon hours she
lay upon her bed thinking such thoughts as these till at length her mind
gave and Lysbeth grew light-headed. Her brain became a chaos, a perfect
hell of distorted imaginations.

Then out of its turmoil and confusion rose a vision and a desire; a
vision of peace and a desire for rest. But what rest was there for her
except the rest of death? Well, why not die? God would forgive her, the
Mother of God would