“Come, girl, tell me; there is something—something has occurred [[12]]with Betsy, or—come now, you generally trust me.” And he gave her a reproachful glance with his sleepy, kindly, stupid eyes, like those of a faithful sheep-dog.
Then in a voice broken with sobs, she burst forth in a stream of lamentations, though without apparent cause. It was her heart’s inmost cry for a little tenderness and sympathy. What was her life to her? to whom could she be of the slightest use? Wringing her hands, she walked up and down the room sobbing and lamenting. What would she care did she die within the hour? it was all the same to her—only that aimless, useless existence, without anything to which she could devote her whole soul; that alone was no longer bearable.
Henk contradicted her, feeling certainly somewhat abashed at the scene, which for the rest was but a repetition of so many previous ones. To give a new turn to her thoughts he began to talk about Betsy, and Ben their boy, about himself—he was even about to allude to a future home of her own, but he could not bring it so far. She on her part shook her head like a sulking child, which, not getting what it wants, refuses to take anything else, and with a passionate movement she all at once threw her head on his shoulder, and with an arm round his bull-dog neck, she burst into a fresh torrent of sobs. Thus she went on lamenting in wild and incoherent words, her nerves overstrained by the evening’s solitude and the hours of brooding in her over-heated room. Over and over again she reverted to her aimless life, which she dragged along like a wretched burden, and in her voice there was something like a reproach to him, her brother-in-law. He, confused and deeply touched by the warmth of her embrace, which he certainly could scarcely return with such tenderness, could find nothing to stem that wild torrent of incoherent sentences but a few common-places.
Slowly, softly, like rose-leaves falling gently on the limpid bosom of a summer stream, she let her melancholy broodings glide away on the full low tones of his deep voice.
At length she stopped and heaved a sigh, but her head still rested on his shoulder. Now that she was somewhat calmer, he thought it right to show a little anger at her behaviour. What a folly it was, to be sure! What stupidity! What a fuss to get into about nothing! [[13]]
“No, Henk, really——” she began, and lifted her tear-stained face to his.
“My dear girl, what rubbish you talk about your aimless life, and all that sort of thing. What puts those things into your head? We are all fond of you——” and remembering his unspoken thought of before, he proceeded, “A young girl like you—talking about an aimless——Sis, you are mad!”
Then, as though tickled at the thought, and besides, thinking that the philosophic condition had lasted long enough, he suddenly gave her arm a sharp twist, and pinched her about the pouting lips. Laughingly she resisted; his movement had somewhat restored to her her broken equilibrium.
When a few moments later both went up-stairs together, she could scarcely restrain herself from bursting out in laughter, as he suddenly lifted her up in his arms to carry her, while she, fearing he would stumble, in a voice half beseeching, half commanding, said—
“Come, Henk, let me go; do you hear? Don’t be so foolish! Henk, let go!”