She rose, and lingering over her toilet, suspected that Betsy must have told Henk to take the present up-stairs, so as not to have to hand it her herself. She felt embarrassed at her own attitude; now she was compelled to take the first step towards a [[112]]reconciliation, and this wounded her pride. It would seem as though she were so delighted with their present, that it made up for all past unpleasantness. ’Twas most tiresome, but still she could not now come down-stairs, and, after a hasty, cool greeting, commence her breakfast without saying a word. She felt very sorry that she had not followed her impulse of the previous day to try a rapprochement. After all it was really too stupid, that sulking, and only because of those dogs! And she held the diamond spider coquettishly against her hair and her throat.
Before she came down-stairs, Eline opened a drawer of her writing-desk. With a furtive smile she took from it an album, a present to herself, and opened it. It contained nothing but portraits of Fabrice, in various positions and dresses, and which for some time past she had been purchasing with much tact, but still not without nervousness; now in one shop, then in another, never returning to the same, constantly fearing that the shopkeeper would guess something of her secret. On one occasion she had been in Amsterdam for a day to visit some friends; there she was very daring, and in a bookshop had bought seven all at once; no one knew her there, and she vowed to herself that she would never again set foot in the shop.
With her eyes sparkling with wanton playfulness she glanced through her collection, and whatever page she turned his dark black-bearded face met her eyes now and again as she had met him in the Bosch with his big felt and his muffler. Ah! she knew it now; it was tenderer feeling than admiration that vibrated through her at the sight, which, in her womanly sense of honour and in shame at herself, made her shudder as for a moment she pressed her lips on that beloved image. Yes, she felt it now; it was a passion that filled her being as with a wealth of rapture; a love for which she could sacrifice all and anything that he might demand of her.
And her imagination, a little relieved of its burden of melancholy by Henk’s cheery words, in which she sometimes heard the echo of long-vanished wishes, grew heated with romantic ideas. In her flight with Fabrice, she saw herself at a railway station awaiting the train, and fearing lest they would be overtaken.
“Auntie, auntie, let me in!” cried Ben, outside the door.
She put the album away and opened the door. Ben came in, [[113]]cautiously clasping the vase full of water in both his little hands.
“Carefully, little man,” said Eline. “Sure you haven’t spilt any on the stairs?”
He shook his head, pleased with himself at his smartness. Whilst he placed the bouquet in the vase, Eline reflected that the little fellow’s present was only another attention on Betsy’s part. It was a great bother after all.
But at last she summed up courage and proceeded down-stairs with Ben. Betsy was in the dining-room, and in consultation with Grete.
“Good morning, Betsy,” said Eline.