"Oh, Addie, Addie!" Gerdy exclaimed. "Is that you? Have you come back at last? We have missed you so frightfully!"

It was he. She flung herself into his arms and embraced him, with a little sob.

They all welcomed him home; they no longer noticed the draught, no longer heard the wind. They hardly ate anything now, hurriedly finishing their dinner.

"Come into the drawing-room," said Constance, "it's warmer there. I don't know why the dining-room should be so chilly."

"We'll set the stove going to-morrow," said Van der Welcke.

His face had brightened up out of recognition.

"Let's see how you're looking, old chap."

He, the father, was so much excited that the tears came to Addie's eyes.

The others left the two of them together in the drawing-room with Van der Welcke while in the dimly-lighted dining-room the old woman seemed to be asleep.

"How are you, my boy?"

"Very well indeed, Dad."

"And now ... you're staying here?"

"Yes, I'm staying ... with all of you."

"Yes, this is your home.... And your wife?"

"We shall see. That will settle itself."

"So ... there's nothing certain yet ... about Mathilde?"

"No, nothing certain.... I write to her once a month; she writes rather oftener ... about the children. She's very good to them."

"So ... no talk of a divorce?"

"No, no talk of that.... Perhaps, later, all will come right between us.

Perhaps, on the other hand, she will feel that she would sooner be free ... in spite of the children."

They both thought of Erzeele.

"So you don't know anything yet?"

"No, not yet. It will settle itself. It must settle itself some day."

"You see, my boy, I'm different. In your place, I should have fought a duel with Erzeele. I should have had a divorce ... if my wife didn't care for me, if she cared for Erzeele."

"Yes, Father, I know, that's you. I'm different."

"You're better."

"No, not better. But, whatever I may be, I am first of all your son."

"You, my son? You're my friend, my pal; always have been."

"And suppose I now wanted to be ... your son? I have come back feeling very sad and very tired, because I feel that I am much to blame."

"Nothing has happened?"

"No."

"What has happened? Nothing at all. You're too fond of thinking. What you have to do now is to seek your own happiness. Just selfishly."

"Perhaps ... if I can. Perhaps that will become Mathilde's happiness too. We shall see. But I don't feel certain of myself. I don't know things. And I now feel ... not your friend and pal but your son, Father.

I seem to feel it for the first time."

"You always used to know things."

"For you, Daddie, and for Mamma. But now, now...."

"Now you're my son."

"Yes."

"My big boy."

"Father."

Van der Welcke was standing in front of him; Addie was sitting down. And Van der Welcke now took his son's head in his hands.

"Father," said Addie, "I wonder if you realize ... how devotedly I love you! It's something that I feel only for my parents and for my children, not for any woman."

"You're a funny chap," said Va der Welcke.

"But it is not your fault. It is your parents' fault."

"If you only knew," Addie repeated, "how devotedly I love you ... and Mamma!... And all of them here a bit too!... If I had my children here, then.... Perhaps, perhaps they will come back later ... very much later, with ... with Mathilde.... Look here, if that ever happens, we must all of us ... behave differently to her."

"Yes, my dear boy."

"Or try to."

"Yes, old fellow, I know what you mean. We'll all do it ... for your sake."

"You see, she _is_ my wife. I ... I am to blame for everything. If you will try...."

"Yes."

"_If_ she comes back.... Perhaps she won't come...."