Three days before, as after a fearful illness during which on several occasions she was at the very doors of death, Lysbeth van Goorl had been declared out of danger, Elsa, her nurse, ventured to leave her for a few hours.  That evening the town seemed to stifle her and, feeling that she needed the air of the country, she passed the Morsch poort and walked a little way along the banks of the canal, never noticing, poor girl, that her footsteps were dogged.  When it began to grow dusk, she halted and stood a while gazing towards the Haarlemer Meer, letting her heart go out to the lover who, as she thought and hoped, within a day or two would be at her side.

Then it was that something was thrown over her head, and for a while all was black.  She awoke to find herself lying in a boat, and watching her, two wretches, whom she recognised as those who had assailed her when first she came to Leyden from The Hague.

“Why have you kidnapped me, and where am I going?” she asked.

“Because we are paid to do it, and you are going to Adrian van Goorl,” was the answer.

Then she understood, and was silent.

Thus they brought her to this lonesome, murderous-looking place, where sure enough Adrian was waiting for her, waiting with a lie upon his lips.  Now, doubtless, the end was at hand.  She, who loved his brother with all her heart and soul, was to be given forcibly in marriage to a man whom she despised and loathed, the vain, furious-tempered traitor, who, for revenge, jealousy, or greed, she knew not which, had not hesitated to send his benefactor, and mother’s husband, to perish in the fires of the Inquisition.

What was she to do?  Escape seemed out of the question, imprisoned as she was on the third story of a lofty mill standing in a lonely, snow-shrouded wilderness, cut off from the sight of every friendly face, and spied on hour after hour by two fierce-eyed women.  No, there was only one escape for her—­through the gate of death.  Even this would be difficult, for she had no weapon, and day and night the women kept guard over her, one standing sentinel, while the other slept.  Moreover, she had no mind to die, being young and healthy, with a love to live for, and from her childhood up she had been taught that self-slaughter is a sin.  No, she would trust in God, and overwhelming though it was, fight her way through this trouble as best she might.  The helpless find friends sometimes.  Therefore, that her strength might be preserved, Elsa rested and ate of her food, and drank the wine which they brought to her, refusing to leave the room, or to speak more than she was obliged, but watching everything that passed.

On the second morning of her imprisonment Ramiro’s message reached her, to which, as usual, she made no answer.  In due course also Ramiro himself arrived, and stood bowing in the doorway.

“Have I your permission to enter, Jufvrouw?” he asked.  Then Elsa, knowing that the moment of trial had come, steeled herself for the encounter.