Joanna had had a message from her lover, and she was watching for his arrival. There was no secrecy in her love-affairs, and it was amid the joy and smiles of the whole household that she met her affianced husband. They were one of those loving, sensible couples, for whom it is natural to predict a placid and happy life; and the first words of Batavius seemed to assure it.
"My affairs have gone well, Joanna, as they generally do; and now I shall build the house, and we shall be married."
Joanna laughed. "I shall just say a word or two, also, about that, Batavius."
"Come, come, the word or two was said so long ago. Have you got the pretty Chinese kas I sent from the ship? and the Javanese cabaya, and the sweetmeats, and the golden pins?"
"All of them I have got. Much money, Batavius, they must have cost."
"Well, well, then! There is enough left. A man does not go to the African coast for nothing. Katrijntje, mijn meisje, what's the matter now, that you never come once?"
Katherine was standing at the open window, apparently watching the honey-bees among the locust blooms, but really perceiving something far beyond them,—a boat on the river at the end of the garden. She could not have told how she knew that it was there; but she saw it, saw it through the intervening space, barred and shaded by many trees. She felt the slow drift of the resting oars, and the fascination of an eager, handsome face lifted to the lilac-bushes which hedged the bank. So the question of Batavius touched very lightly her physical consciousness. A far sweeter, a far more peremptory voice called her; but she answered,—
"There is nothing the matter, Batavius. I am well, I am happy. And now I will go into the garden to make me a fine nosegay."
"Three times this week, into the garden you have gone to get a nosegay; and then all about it you forget. It will be better to listen to Batavius, I think. He will tell us of the strange countries where he has been, and of the strange men and women."