Gertrude opened the iron door. “Eleanore does not want you to come in,” she said, with a trace of joy in her eyes.
“Why not? What has happened?”
“She does not wish to see you,” said the monosyllabic Gertrude, and gazed into the light of the hall lamp.
“Is she ill?”
“No!”
“Then she has got to tell me herself that she does not wish to see me.”
“Go!” commanded Gertrude and tossed her head back.
Her gloomy eyes hung on his, and the two stood there for a moment opposite each other, like two racers who have come in at the same goal at the same time but from opposite directions. Daniel then turned around, and went down the steps in silence. Gertrude remained standing for a time, her head sinking deeper and deeper all the while on her breast. Suddenly she covered her face with her hands; a cold shudder ran through her body.