"Well," said Esmeralda with a reluctance which caused a smile to tremble on Mr. Bamstra's lips, 'that would be very nice. "

She looked at him a little uncertainly.

"Are you sure...?" she asked.

"Quite sure. We'll go past Mevrouw Twist's house and let her know." He got to his feet.

"I've one or two telephone calls to make--you'll excuse me for a few minutes?"

Left alone with Jonkvrouw Bamstra, Esmeralda embarked on a little chat about nothing in particular. It was only after a few minutes that she realized that her hostess had taken the conversation firmly into her own hands and that it now consisted of nicely put questions about herself. She answered guardedly, trying at the same time to avoid telling the history of her life which her companion was so intent on learning. Presently she decided to counterattack.

"It seems strange that Thimo has never married," she observed.

The grey eyes blinked and twinkled. Not in the least discomposed, her hostess observed gently: "He would never marry until he was deeply in love, my dear, and he has never been that--until now, of course." She smiled very sweetly.

"He will make a very good husband."

Esmeralda murmured nothings while she thought about that; probably it was true. She told herself that she wasn't interested in Thimo's virtues and was relieved when the subject of their talk came back into the room.

They left shortly after, calling briefly at Mevrouw Twist's house and then driving through the heart of the city and on to the main road to den Haag, but just past Voorschoten, Mr. Bamstra took a narrow country road running through wooded country.

Esmeralda looked around her.

"I thought... that is, where are we going?"

"To my home." They had come to a fork in the road and he sent the Bristol smoothly to the right.

"Oh, I thought you lived much nearer Leiden. Mother never said.. now that I come to think about it, she didn't tell me anything--only that it was nice."

"Well, I daresay you both had a lot to talk about," murmured Mr. Bamstra soothingly. They were pa.s.sing through a small village now, its red-tiled roofs lighted by the evening sun, and at its very end the same sun shone on to a large square house which came into their view, standing well back from the road behind iron railings. Its windows were immense and running across its white-painted front was a covered balcony with a great deal of ornamental ironwork, and since there was a stretch of water before the house, it was reached by means of a curved bridge, also of wrought iron. Mr. Bamstra swung the car through the gates and on to the raked gravel of the short drive and Esmeralda cried: "Oh, do please stop a minute--it's lovely!"

She gazed her fill.

"You live here all alone?" she wanted to know.

"Alas, yes." He sounded meek.

Well, you must marry very quickly and have a family. "

"I'll bear it in mind," said her companion, still meek.

"It will take time, of course," Esmeralda pointed out, 'but it's a house which needs children, isn't it--and a donkey or two, and dogs and cats and ducks on the water. "

"I do have ducks," interpolated Mr. Bamstra with the air of a man producing a trump card.

"Oh, good." She smiled at him.

"Your house in Friesland is beautiful too, but this one is perfect-quiet and peaceful..."

"It won't be by the time the children and donkeys and cats and dogs are in residence."

"Don't be silly! You know quite well what 1 mean."

"Oh, yes, 1 do," he a.s.sured her, and his voice was quite serious now.

He started the. car again and allowed it to roll to a gentle halt before his front door, a ma.s.sive affair reached by a double step and embellished with a good deal of old fashioned bra.s.s work Esmeralda admired it while he took the keys from his pocket and selected one.

The bra.s.s work was polished to within an inch of its life, she noticed; whoever looked after Mr. Bamstra and his house did it very well indeed.

No one, looking at the plain face of the house from the road, could have guessed at the splendour within. The hall had the black and white tiles which most old Dutch houses possessed, but the walls were lined with linenfold panelling painted green, and above that there was a rich cream brocade wall hanging. The ceiling was elaborately painted with cherubs and wreaths of flowers, and its cornices were gilded, a graceful chandelier, bearing a large number of candles, hung from its centre. Against one wall was an enormous armoire, carved and inlaid, flanked by carved Italian chairs; the opposite wall held a side table in gilded wood with a gilded mirror above it. Any one of these articles of furniture were worthy of a place in a museum, guarded by red silken ropes and put on show to the public, never to be used again, but obviously their owner didn't see them in that light, for he cast his driving gloves and Esmeralda's parcels down on the side table, opened a drawer in the armoire and dropped his briefcase into it, then walked her past these priceless antiques without giving them a second glance. There were several doors opening into the hall, but he went past them all, under the arch of the graceful staircase against the further wall, and down a short pa.s.sage with a door at its end.

The room they entered was at the back of the house, overlooking a garden with a lawn like green velvet flanked by rose beds and herbaceous borders showing every colour of the rainbow. The room itself was large and lighted by a number of french windows, all of which were open. Two dogs came to welcome them as they went in; a large, mild-eyed ba.s.set hound and a black and white creature with very long legs, a square head with flopping ears and a tail like a fox's brush.

"Mortimor," said Thimo, bending to caress the hound, 'and Mutt. " He offered the other hand to the beast, who worried it gently, threshing his tail around as he did so.

Esmeralda bent to scratch their heads.

"So these are your dogs--they're nice. Have you any cats?"

"One--Grimalkin, he belongs to Hanna."

"Your housekeeper?" she ventured.

"Yes, she'll be along presently. Sit down, or would you rather stroll round the garden?"

She elected to stroll, and they spent half an hour or so amongst the flowers, the two dogs at their heels. The gardens, though not as large as those in Friesland, were big enough to contain a tennis court and a nicely concealed swimming pool. Esmeralda stomped to its edge and looked down into the clear water. Very soon she would be able to swim again.

"How much longer?" she asked, voicing her thoughts.

"Another week or so--let me see, when did I operate? Two weeks tomorrow, to be precise." He had come to stand beside her.

"Any plans for your future yet?" he asked softly.

She shook her head.

"No, none."

His: "Time enough for that," was still soft, so that she barely heard him say it.

They went indoors presently and Hanna came to meet them. She was a middle-aged woman, rather stout and with a round jolly face, and she gave the strong impression that even the most extraordinary happening couldn't shake her from habitual good humour. She beamed at them both, shook hands with Esmeralda and addressed herself to Thimo.

"Hanna wants to know if you would like to tidy yourself. We'll have our drinks in the drawing room--I'll be on the lookout for you when you come downstairs."

She was led away by the still smiling Hanna, who forged up the curved staircase with surprising speed despite her bulk, guided her through a wide gallery which half encircled the hall, and opened a door half way down it.

The room was light and charming, its enormous window overlooking the gardens at the side of the house. Its delicate chintz curtains matched the bedspread, its furniture was satinwood and rosewood of the Regency period.

Esmeralda gave herself an impatient look in the shield back mirror on the spindle-legged table, poked at her hair in a dissatisfied fashion, found her powder compact and lipstick and applied them, then went to look out of the window. Mr. Bamstra, the two dogs at his heels, came round the side of the house as she stood there, and she wondered how she would have felt if it had been Leslie.

The drawing room was furnished with more antiques, beautiful pieces which integrated nicely with the comfortable chairs set amongst their splendour.

The curtains and carpet were a soft claret and the same tones had been used for the chair covers; it was charming on a summer evening, it would be equally charming in the depths of winter. Esmeralda took a chair by the window and sipped her sherry and listened to her companion's casual talk, feeling completely at home--indeed, she would have been quite happy if it hadn't been for persistent thoughts of Leslie. She supposed that she would think of him for a long time to come; it was a pity that they couldn't meet just once more when her foot was quite cured, so that she could kill her useless hankering once and for all. Supposing he had given up the girl? He might even have discovered that it was herself he loved after all.

She sighed, and Mr. Bamstra, who had been staring at her for some moments, said briskly: "There is a rather special patient coming to see me tomorrow. I'll tell you about her now, so that you will know what to expect..."

She listened carefully, anxious to dp her job properly and please him, so that for the time being at least Leslie had to take a back seat in her mind, and he stayed there too, all through their excellent dinner of cold fish pate, guinea fowl stuffed with foie gras, and a delicately flavoured sorbet made to a closely guarded recipe of Hannahs, for Esmeralda found her host sufficiently entertaining to absorb the whole of her attention. Besides, the wine he poured for her cast a cheerful glow over the evening; she was astonished to discover that it was almost eleven o'clock as they sat in the drawing room once more, drinking their coffee, so that she felt reluctantly forced to suggest that she should go back to Mevrouw Twist.

The evening had been all too short, she had discovered. True, she had seen a little ofThimo's house, and very fine it was. It would be pleasant to sit at the foot of his elegant table, with its expanse of white napery and gla.s.s and silver; to sit in his drawing room dispensing coffee to his guests and making conversation in faultless Dutch. She pulled herself up short, quite amazed at ever having imagined such a thing, and thanked him rather primly for her delightful evening as he drove her back to Leiden. She gave him her hand as they stood before the little house together, and thanked him once more, still prim, because the unseen Ella was very vivid in her mind's eye--what else could she be but prim in the face of the wretched girl's unshakeable confidence in Mr. Bamstra? She must be a paragon of the virtues, a pearl amongst women and probably a dead bore, thought Esmeralda pettishly, as she stood in the tiny hall, listening to the Bristol's gentle, retreating purr.

But Mr. Bamstra and his love life were forgotten in the morning. There was a letter from Pat, a long chatty missive, full of gossip and news about Trent's, and sandwiched in between these t.i.t bits was the brief comment that Leslie had fallen out with his girl-friend.

"I met him yesterday," went on Pat in her large, rather childish handwriting, 'and he wanted to know all about you--when you were coming back, and when I said you weren't, he looked frightfully put out. "

Esmeralda read this sentence through several times, wondering exactly what it meant, and then went along to the consulting rooms to don her uniform and cap and take her place behind her desk, doing all these things automatically without really thinking about them because her head was full of Leslie once more. It seemed as though her wish might come true after all--that he loved her. A variety of future occasions which might arise from such a situation wove their way through her mind, and it wasn't until Ciska had been out twice to set right the mistakes she had made that she pulled herself together and got on with her work. All the same, when the last patient had gone, she fell to dreaming once more, so that when Mr. Bamstra came out of his office she hardly noticed him, and when he addressed a couple of remarks to her about his patients, her replies were so dreamy that he shot a sudden sharp look at her and asked: "On top of the world, Somehow it didn't seem in the least strange that he should know how she felt.

"Yes, at least... yes." Her smile was wide.

"Let me guess. Young Chapman has given up his beautiful girlfriend."

She looked at him in amazement and with a slightly heightened colour.

"How could you possibly know?"

"I didn't--let us say that it has always been a strong possibility, and I'm good at putting two and two together. What do you intend to do about it?"

She looked at him helplessly.

"Nothing."

He nodded.

"For the moment--but when the plaster is off, there is a great deal you can do."

She thought this over.

"Yes, there is, isn't there?" Her eyes shone emerald.

"But Pat--my friend--told him I had left Trent's."

He said easily: "You have a number of friends there, haven't you?"

"Oh, yes."

"In that case, when the time comes, something can be arranged." He picked up his briefcase from the desk.

"I have a list this afternoon, I must be off. You know that you don't need to come in tomorrow--I shall be in Groningen, but I'm afraid I've agreed to see a patient on Sat.u.r.day afternoon--the only time I could fit him in-four o'clock.

Would it bother you too much to come in? Ciska has a date with her boyfriend, otherwise I would have asked her. "

"Yes, of course I'll come. Would a quarter to four be time enough?"

"Excellent, and many thanks." His goodbye was a faint echo from the door.

Really, for so large a man, he could move very fast when he wanted to.

Esmeralda spent her free day exploring Leiden, visiting the museums, staring at the old houses along Rapenburg, inspecting the Burcht fortifications and peering round the small Pilgrim Fathers House. So much sightseeing sharpened her appet.i.te and tired her leg a little; she lunched at the Doelen on Rapenburg, then decided to look at the shops for an hour or two and then go back and wash her hair and write letters, a rather dull programme she followed to the letter, going to bed early too, something which earned the approval of Mevrouw Twist.

She went shopping with her landlady after breakfast the next morning; of mutual advantage to both of them, for she carried the basket of groceries and Mevrouw Twist explained painstakingly about prices and quant.i.ties and the best places to shop. They had coffee when they got back home and Esmeralda went into the little garden at the back and sh.e.l.led peas for their dinner while the old lady got busy in the kitchen. It was pleasant in the sunshine and deliciously warm; she had intended to have a serious think about her future that morning, but she found herself lulled into a delightful blankness which was very soothing and which somehow made thinking very difficult. She took the peas in presently and stayed to help in the kitchen, making laborious conversation, so that her head was filled with Dutch words and phrases to the exclusion of everything else.

She had a key to the consulting rooms. She opened the house door and went inside and up the little staircase, changed into uniform and opened up the waiting room and Thimo's consulting room. It looked empty and she felt lonely, sitting waiting for the patient and Thimo to arrive. She had to wait ten minutes before she heard the whisper of the Bristol's tyres on the cobbles outside and a moment later his steady tread on the stairs. He paused briefly to say hullo and went straight to his room and a moment later his patient arrived; an elderly man, walking with the aid of sticks and accompanied by a weary-looking woman who might have been his daughter.

Esmeralda ushered him into the consulting room and went back to her desk, where she sat drawing faces on the blotting paper, while the woman leaned back in one of the comfortable chairs with her eyes closed. The examination took some time; Esmeralda had filled one side of the blotting paper and had begun on the other before the door opened and Mr. Bamstra and his patient emerged together. The woman sat up at once, but Esmeralda, rightly interpreting Mr.

Bamstra's glance, took charge of the patient, easing him into a chair and laying his sticks aside, while the other two went back into the consulting room.

The old man barked something at her, and Esmeralda said apologetically: "I'm so sorry, I don't speak Dutch only a few words."

"Then what are you doing here?" He spoke crossly and in English.

"Helping out," she informed him pleasantly.

"Got to have an operation--waste of time at my age."

"Of course it's not," she said briskly.

"Think how nice it will be to walk properly again. You're fortunate to have such a super surgeon to operate on you."

He looked as though he would explode, but thought better of it, merely asking rudely: "And what are you?"

"A nurse."

"Pah! That's my coat over there, isn't it? I'll have it here."

She fought back the desire to refuse unless he said please, but it wasn't her place to annoy Mr. Bamstra's patients; she stomped across the room and put the coat beside him and found him staring at her plaster.

"Your leg's in plaster," he observed unnecessarily.

She gave him a sunny smile.

"It is--you're not the only one with a gammy leg," she told him cheerfully as the door opened and Mr. Bamstra and the tired woman came out. The woman looked a good deal brighter now, though, probably the prospect of the irascible old man being in hospital for a week or two had cheered her up.

Esmeralda helped him to his feet, put on his coat and handed him his sticks, and was quite astonished when he said gruffly: "You're a nice young woman."

He pointed his stick at her leg.

"Hope that's a success."

"Of course it will be," she a.s.sured him stoutly, 'just as yours will be. "