a prisoner aboard. So it came about that the day was
closing before the soldiers challenged them from the watergate, asking
who they were and whither they went. Foy stood up and said:

"We are Foy van Goorl, Red Martin, Elsa Brant, a wounded man and a
prisoner, escaped from Haarlem, and we go to the house of Lysbeth van
Goorl in the Bree Straat."

Then they let them through the watergate, and there, on the further
side, were many gathered who thanked God for their deliverance, and
begged tidings of them.

"Come to the house in the Bree Straat and we will tell you from the
balcony," answered Foy.

So they rowed from one cut and canal to another till at last they came
to the private boat-house of the van Goorls, and entered it, and thus by
the small door into the house.

Lysbeth van Goorl, recovered from her illness now, but aged and grown
stern with suffering, sat in an armchair in the great parlour of
her home in the Bree Straat, the room where as a girl she had cursed
Montalvo; where too not a year ago, she had driven his son, the traitor
Adrian, from her presence. At her side was a table on which stood a
silver bell and two brass holders with candles ready to be lighted. She
rang the bell and a woman-servant entered, the same who, with Elsa, had
nursed her in the plague.

"What is that murmuring in the street?" Lysbeth asked. "I hear the sound
of many voices. Is there more news from Haarlem?"

"Alas! yes," answered the woman. "A fugitive says that the executioners
there are weary, so now they tie the poor prisoners back to back and
throw them into the mere to drown."

A groan burst from Lysbeth's lips. "Foy, my son, is there," she
muttered, "and Elsa Brant his affianced wife, and Martin his servant,
and many another friend. Oh! God, how long, how long?" and her head sank
upon her bosom.

Soon she raised it again and said, "Light the candles, woman, this place
grows dark, and in its gloom I see the ghosts of all my dead."

They burned up--two stars of light in the great room.

"Whose feet are those upon the stairs?" asked Lysbeth, "the feet of men
who bear burdens. Open the large doors, woman, and let that enter which
it pleases God to send us."

So the doors were flung wide, and through them came people carrying
a wounded man, then following him Foy and Elsa, and, lastly, towering
above them all, Red Martin, who thrust before him another man. Lysbeth
rose from her chair to look.

"Do I dream?" she