ness, parrot-wise, neither knowing nor
feeling aught of what she said. She never even thought that there was
another sort of love than that which she had felt for Van der Welcke;
and, if she happened to read about it somewhere in one of her occasional
fits of reading, she would think:

"It's only a book; and the author is writing fine words."

But, at the same time, her gentle nature was too superlatively and
exquisitely feminine and also too motherly to look upon physical love as
the only needful thing. No, what she had felt as a duty in the case of
her first husband and as passion in the case of Van der Welcke had soon
turned to mother-love. Married, in her passion she had at once longed
for a child. And she had worshipped her child from the very first
day....

CHAPTER XXXVI

Constance was in her bedroom one morning, arranging all sorts of things,
when the servant came and said:

"Mrs. van Saetzema is here, ma'am."

Constance' eyelashes trembled and her lips contracted. She would have
liked to make an excuse, to say that she was not at home; but she
refrained because of the maid:

"Very well, Truitje; ask her to come up."

Adolphine came upstairs noisily, with elaborate gaiety:

"Good-morning, Constance, how are you? We hardly ever see you now. I
say, have you been ill?"

"No."

"You are not looking well. Why is it so dark in here?"

"Dark?"

"Yes, I should feel stifled in a light like this. Oh, of course, it's
the trees opposite! They take away all the light. My goodness, this is a
gloomy house of yours I Aren't your husband and boy back yet?"

"No."

"I say, why didn't you go with them?"

"For no special reason."

"They're a very particular old couple, aren't they, that father and
mother of your husband's? Whatever are you doing?"

"I'm tidying up my cupboard."

"You'd do better to go for a walk: you're looking so pale."

"But I'm perfectly well."

"I've come to ask if you'll come to dinner at my house the day after
to-morrow. But you must make yourself smart. We shall be fourteen. My
first dinner-party. It's a summer dinner. But we know such an awful lot
of people; and I always begin my dinners very early. You see, it's quite
plain, at my place, but jolly. Bertha doesn't begin till January; but
she works everything out so closely. I like doing things handsomely. So
it's settled, isn't it: you'll come?"

"I'm sorry, Adolphine. It's very nice of you to ask me, but I can't
come."