"Do you like the Hague?"

"I'd rather live there than here. But Henri and Addie are attached to the house: it's their family house."

"They are fine, big rooms," said Adolphine, in humble praise. "I'm living in a _very_ small house now."

"Ah, but there are so few of you!"

"That's true."

"How's your husband?"

"He's not very grand ... Marietje neither."

"Isn't she well?"

"No. She's very full of nerves. I consulted Dr. Berens, to ease my mind."

"What does he say?"

"He ... he suggested that...."

"That what, Adolphine?"

"He said ... that Addie was beginning to make such a name ... as a nerve-specialist. He advised me to go to Addie ... and talk to him about Marietje. Perhaps one day, when he comes to the Hague, he might see Marietje.... Do you think he could be persuaded to, Constance?"

"Certainly, Adolphine. Of course he will, gladly."

"I hear such good accounts of him ... as a doctor."

"Yes, he is getting a very big practice."

"And making a lot of money...."

"Well, not so very much, I believe."

"Ah, perhaps he's right, as a young doctor, to be reasonable in his charges!... You see, Constance, that ... that's really why I came down."

"You were quite right, Adolphine. Addie will be home presently and then you can talk to him yourself.... Poor Marietje: I'm sorry she's so ill.

How old is she now?"

"Twenty-six."

"I remember: she's a year younger than Addie."

"Who would have thought, Constance, that you would come and live here ... with Mamma ... and Adeline ... and the children?... But Mamma always liked you best. _I_ should have been glad to have Mamma with me ... but it's better as it is; our house is so tiny.... Does Addie come to the Hague often? Would he be able to treat Marietje regularly?"

"He would go specially."

"He hypnotizes, doesn't he?"

"Very often, I believe."

"Do you like that?"

"Addie often gets very remarkable results."

"I don't very much fancy it. I shouldn't like him to hypnotize Marietje.

But, if it's essential...."

The gong sounded.

"Is that for lunch?"

"Yes. Will you come?"

Van der Welcke and Addie were downstairs. They had just come in, but had heard from the girls that Aunt Adolphine was there; and Van der Welcke welcomed her conventionally. Oh, what fights they had had in the old days! But so many years had pa.s.sed since those bygone times; and what did a pressure of the hand and a kind word cost? He had acquired a certain genial earnestness in his big house, filled with his wife's family. He would have missed them, all those big children ... even though Guy and Gerdy were the only cheerful ones.... But those two were the sunshine of the house; and the others still clung to him with sympathy: their grat.i.tude created a sympathetic atmosphere round Uncle Henri....

At the long luncheon-table, Marietje cut the bread-and-b.u.t.ter. Granny did not sit at the table; and Mathilde came down very late. No one had told her that Aunt Adolphine was there and she stood amazed in the doorway before bringing herself to offer a non-committal greeting. She was aloof in her manner, thought Adolphine, middle-cla.s.s, put on airs as she sat down. It was striking how her personality failed to blend with that of the others, as though she remained a stranger among them. In the grey winter morning, hovering sullenly along the dark walls of the dining-room, she was a fresh, handsome woman; her full face was the colour of milk and roses; her lines swelled with health. Gerdy, beside her, was nothing more than a pretty little smiling thing; Marietje and Adeletje were very plain: Marietje so lank and yellow; Adeletje looking quite old with her sickly face. Klaasje was very tiresome, ate uncouthly and sat beside Constance, who kept on gently reproving her and cut up her bread-and-b.u.t.ter for her as though she were a baby. Guy carved the cold beef. All of them were silently wondering what Aunt Adolphine had come down for and their conversation sounded constrained; but Van der Welcke talked nonsense calmly with Guy and Gerdy. Adolphine, to keep the pot boiling, talked about the Hague: Uncle and Aunt Ruyvenaer and the girls had returned to India ever so long ago and were not coming back to Holland, now that Uncle and Aunt were older and preferred to live in Java; Louise was living with Otto and Frances; Frances always had something or other the matter with her; and Louise looked after the house and Hugo and Ottelientje, who were now thirteen and fourteen. Then there were Karel and Cateau, Ernst, Dorine, Paul....

"We don't see much of one another nowadays," said Adolphine, sadly. "Ah, Mamma's Sunday evenings! They were very pleasant, say what you like. We didn't always agree, perhaps, but still...."

She started, became confused, pecked awkwardly at her food. She felt that the illusion of an united family--Mamma's great illusion in the old days--was quite dispelled; and, older, more melancholy and still bitter as she was, she felt sad about it, sad about something which possibly she had never valued but which she now missed. And she could not help feeling acute envy that Constance was living in so big a house and harbouring so many relations; and suddenly she asked, sharply:

"Your house is rather damp, isn't it, Van der Welcke?"

"Well, it's mostly on the ground-floor," said Van der Welcke, good-humouredly. "And we've had a lot of rain."

"One's feet get so chilly."

"Guy, give Auntie a footstool."

Guy fetched a stool; Adolphine let him push it under her feet.

"There are so many trees round the house," she said. "_That's_ what makes it gloomy and chilly. You should have them thinned out.... It must be very lonely, living here."

"Don't you see the others regularly?" asked Constance, trying to change the subject.

"No. Karel and Cateau pay me a visit now and again. It's not much of a pleasure to anyone: it's never more than a visit!" said Adolphine, criticizing her brother and sister-in-law and forgetting that, in the old days, she herself never honoured Constance and Van der Welcke with more than a "visit." And she went on, "Paul one never sees; nor Dorine; and Ernst ... you know he has not been very well lately?"

Constance gave a start:

"No, I didn't know. I saw him only three weeks ago.... I wish he would come and live here, at Driebergen, say in a nice, bright room at a good boarding-house. I really think the country life would do him good and he probably feels rather lonely at the Hague.... But he wouldn't do it....

He's been living all these years in the same room and seems so much attached to that room that he simply can't leave it ... and yet he is never satisfied with the landlady and her brother. That brother is his constant bugbear.... And yet I thought that he was living quietly enough.... Is he still always calm, however self-absorbed he may be? You say he hasn't been well lately?"

"Well, he's not as bad as he was--how long ago is it?--ten or eleven years ago."

"Eleven years."