“Dirk, dear Dirk,” she replied almost with a cry, “alas! for the answer which I must give you.  Renounce the error of your ways, make confession, and be reconciled to the Church and—­I will marry you.  Otherwise I cannot, no, and although I love you, you and no other man”—­here she put an energy into her voice that was almost dreadful—­“with all my heart and soul and body; I cannot, I cannot, I cannot!”

Dirk heard, and his ruddy face turned ashen grey.

“Cousin,” he replied, “you seek of me the one thing which I must not give.  Even for your sake I may not renounce my vows and my God as I behold Him.  Though it break my heart to bid you farewell and live without you, here I pay you back in your own words—­I cannot, I cannot, I cannot!”

Lysbeth looked at him, and lo! his short, massive form and his square-cut, honest countenance in that ardour of renunciation had suffered a change to things almost divine.  At that moment—­to her sight at least—­this homely Hollander wore the aspect of an angel.  She ground her teeth and pressed her hands upon her heart.  “For his sake—­to save him,” she muttered to herself—­then she spoke.

“I respect you for it, I love you for it more than ever; but, Dirk, it is over between us.  One day, here or hereafter, you will understand and you will forgive.”

“So be it,” said Dirk hastily, stretching out his hand to find his hat, for he was too blind to see.  “It is a strange answer to my prayer, a very strange answer; but doubtless you are right to follow your lights as I am sure that I am right to follow mine.  We must carry our cross, dear Lysbeth, each of us; you see that we must carry our cross.  Only I beg of you—­I don’t speak as a jealous man, because the thing has gone further than jealousy—­I speak as a friend, and come what may while I live you will always find me that—­I beg of you, beware of the Spaniard, Montalvo.  I know that he followed you to the coast; I have heard too he boasts that he will marry you.  The man is wicked, although he took me in at first.  I feel it—­his presence seems to poison the air, yes, this very air I breathe.  But oh! and I should like him to hear me say it, because I am sure that he is at the bottom of all this, his hour will come.  For whatever he does he will be paid back; he will be paid back here and hereafter.  And now, good-bye.  God bless you and protect you, dear Lysbeth.  If you think it wrong you are quite right not to marry me, and I know that you will keep my secret.  Good-bye, again,” and lifting her hand Dirk kissed it.  Then he stumbled from the room.

As for Lysbeth she cast herself at full length, and in the bitterness of her heart beat her brow upon the boards.

When the front door had shut behind Dirk, but not before, Montalvo emerged from his hiding place and stood over the prostrate Lysbeth.  He tried to adopt his airy and sarcastic manner, but he was shaken by the scene which he had overheard, shaken and somewhat frightened also, for he felt that he had called into being passions of which the force and fruits could not be calculated.