, Mamma."

Her face grew calmer, but her eyes remained shut.

"My darling!" she whispered, almost inaudibly, with closed eyes. "Thank
you. Thank you. But leave me to myself now...."

He kissed her, with his manly tenderness, and then went out and shut the
door. She opened her eyes, looked round the room. But it was as though
she was ashamed before everything, before the walls of the room and the
furniture around her; for she now closed her eyes again and hid her face
in her hands.

And she sat like that for long, as though lost in thanksgiving for the
mercy vouchsafed her by life....

But, between the two of them, the boy now brightened, strong in the
power of truth and certainty, even though window after window had opened
before him, giving him a glimpse into the world. Between the two of
them, he recovered his former self, his former voice, his childish
tempers even, became once more the consolation and the aim of their two
existences. She went for walks on his arm; he went bicycling with him
for long distances, full of air and space. The house resounded with his
young, serious, no longer treble voice. When she looked at him, however,
she thought that he had grown, had become broader; that the shape of his
head, the curve of his cheeks were losing the childish softness that
still belonged to his years....

And, when Van der Welcke felt bored in his smoking-room and went and sat
with Addie in the "turret," always first punctiliously asking his son if
he was interrupting him in his work, he no longer took him on his
knee....

CHAPTER XXXIII

It was one morning during the summer holidays that old Mr. van der
Welcke said to his wife:

"Why not ask the little boy to come and stay with us?"

There was never much said between the old people, but each understood
without words, or from a single word, the thought that was passing in
the other's mind.

Not until the evening did the old lady ask:

"The little boy alone?"

"Yes, alone ... or with Henri."

Two days after that, she suggested:

"Oughtn't we to invite them, all three, in that case? Constance as
well?"

The old man said nothing and went on reading, as though he had not
heard; and his wife did not press for an answer. But, at nightfall, when
they sat staring at the dark summer evening outside, old Mr. van der
Welcke said:

"No, I don't like her. Let us ask Henri and Adriaan."

She said nothing. She was used to obeying her husband's wishe