him, to forgive him....

And she read on, did not see the strange words which told what happened
to people after death, but wept softly, inaudibly, over her book, wept
for still contentment and peace, because he had spoken to her and had
said:

"Take Piet with you, then, to help you."

When it was ten o'clock, he closed his book, stood up. And she would so
much have liked to ask him if he too would come with her to-morrow, in
the train, to Henri, because it was not so difficult and Piet could take
the tickets. But she did not ask him, because she knew that it was even
more difficult for him than for her to travel and go by train, that
train which he also for years had heard whistling and sometimes
rumbling. So she did not ask him, because he would certainly refuse. And
without a doubt he heard within himself what she hesitated to ask him,
for he said, gently:

"I shall not go; but give him many good wishes, from his father."

Then, stiffly and with difficulty, he bent his tall figure and his ivory
forehead, went to her and kissed her on the brow. And she took his
gnarled hand and pressed it gently. Then he went upstairs and she rang
the bell.

The butler entered.

"Piet," she said, hesitatingly and shyly, and she blushed before the
butler. "I am going to-morrow to the Hague, to Mr. Henri. It's his
birthday. And I should like you to take me there."

The man looked up in surprise, smiled:

"Very well, ma'am, as you please."

And, as she went up the stairs, she tried to hold herself more erect;
she felt younger....

CHAPTER XXVII

And in her room she hardly slept for nervousness about the great event
that was to happen on the morrow. All the night through, while the wind
moaned against the panes, she lay in bed, with unclosed eyes, listening
whether she could not hear in the voices of the wind yet other voices,
strange voices, voices warning or commanding the living.

She had never spoken to her husband about the voices, though he was well
aware that she read the strange book and disapproved of her reading it,
because it could not be fit and proper reading for people who, from
their childhood, had believed that the best of all books was the Bible
and the best of all beliefs the belief in the Lord, from Whom every
sorrow came and every blessing. And she had hidden the strange book also
from the old minister, who came to see them every week, since they both,
growing older each year and ailing, had ce