She made no reply, but flung herself sobbing on his bosom, her spirit utterly broken with her inward struggles.
“You will—you will be my little wife, then?”
She just ventured to lift up her face, whilst she lay trembling in his arms, her only reply being her tearful glance and her faint smile.
“Oh—Eline—my darling!” he whispered, and his lips pressed her forehead.
Voices were heard in the drawing-room. Henk and Etienne were coming out of the hall, Etienne carrying his overcoat and hat in his hand.
“But where is Otto all this time?” Eline heard him exclaim, and she could at the same time distinguish Betsy’s voice, who whispered something.
Otto looked smilingly down upon the little weeping head, which, suddenly alarmed, was pressed against his bosom.
“Come, shall we go, then?” he asked, and in his simplicity he beamed with joy.
Slowly, very slowly, she let him lead her away, still sobbing in his arms, her head hid on his shoulder. Betsy met them with a laugh, and pressed Otto’s hand with a significant glance. Henk and Etienne were somewhat surprised.
“Van Raat, may I—may I introduce you to my intended?” said Otto.