“Indeed,” said Dirk aghast, “and where have they gone?”

“Oh!  Mynheer, I do not know that, they did not tell me,” and no other answer could he extract from her.

So Dirk went away discomfited and pondering.  An hour later the Captain Montalvo called, and strange to say proved more fortunate.  By hook or by crook he obtained the address of the ladies, who were visiting, it appeared, at a seaside village within the limits of a ride.  By a curious coincidence that very afternoon Montalvo, also seeking rest and change of air, appeared at the inn of this village, giving it out that he proposed to lodge there for a while.

As he walked upon the beach next day, whom should he chance to meet but the Vrouw Clara van Ziel, and never did the worthy Clara spend a more pleasant morning.  So at least she declared to Lysbeth when she brought her cavalier back to dinner.

The reader may guess the rest.  Montalvo paid his court, and in due course Montalvo was refused.  He bore the blow with a tender resignation.

“Confess, dear lady,” he said, “that there is some other man more fortunate.”

Lysbeth did not confess, but, on the other hand, neither did she deny.

“If he makes you happy I shall be more than satisfied,” the Count murmured, “but, lady, loving you as I do, I do not wish to see you married to a heretic.”

“What do you mean, Senor?” asked Lysbeth, bridling.

“Alas!” he answered, “I mean that, as I fear, the worthy Heer Dirk van Goorl, a friend of mine for whom I have every respect, although he has outstripped me in your regard, has fallen into that evil net.”

“Such accusations should not be made,” said Lysbeth sternly, “unless they can be proved.  Even then——­” and she stopped.

“I will inquire further,” replied the swain.  “For myself I accept the position, that is until you learn to love me, if such should be my fortune.  Meanwhile I beg of you at least to look upon me as a friend, a true friend who would lay down his life to serve you.”

Then, with many a sigh, Montalvo departed home to Leyden upon his beautiful black horse, but not before he had enjoyed a few minutes’ earnest conversation with the worthy Tante Clara.

“Now, if only this old lady were concerned,” he reflected as he rode away, “the matter might be easy enough, and the Saints know it would be one to me, but unhappily that obstinate pig of a Hollander girl has all the money in her own right.  In what labours do not the necessities of rank and station involve a man who by disposition requires only ease and quiet!  Well, my young friend Lysbeth, if I do not make you pay for these exertions before you are two months older, my name is not Juan de Montalvo.”

Three days later the ladies returned to Leyden.  Within an hour of their arrival the Count called, and was admitted.

“Stay with me,” said Lysbeth to her Aunt Clara as the visitor was announced, and for a while she stayed.  Then, making an excuse, she vanished from the room, and Lysbeth was left face to face with her tormentor.