Madame van Raat left later than she usually did, still feeling uncertain in her mind about Eline’s decision. She had to some extent anticipated a sort of family evening, and she felt decidedly disappointed.
It was now long past twelve, and Madame Eekhof and her daughters, together with Emilie, Vincent, and Paul, prepared to go, the girls, amid much laughing banter, being conducted by Henk and Etienne through the hall to their carriage. Betsy, Eline, and Otto remained behind in the little boudoir, and the silence somewhat embarrassed them. But Betsy purposely rose and walked into the drawing-room towards the card-table, as though to gather up the scattered counters. To Eline it seemed as if the ground was giving way under her. She could not hide her confusion from Otto’s eyes, and he, although he had had no intention that evening of reverting to his request, did not feel himself strong enough to resist the temptation of the moment, now that they were alone together.
“Eline,” he whispered, in a broken voice; “oh, must I leave you like this?”
Almost in terror she gasped forth her pent-up breath in a trembling sigh.
“Otto—really, truly—I—I cannot, not yet.”
“Adieu then; forgive me, pray, for having worried you a second [[149]]time,” he said, and with that he lightly pressed her fingers and went.
As for her, however, she felt herself suddenly relenting into a melting tenderness. Trembling and shaking all over, she all but fell to the floor, but she saved herself by rushing towards the door, where she clung to the heavy draperies, and altogether yielding herself up to her emotions, she cried—
“Otto! Otto!”
He could not repress a light cry. He quickly turned back and caught her in his arms, and with his face all aglow with pleasure he led her back into the boudoir.
“Eline, Eline!” he cried: “is it true?”