“Eline, Eline!” again came from many, many voices.
“Yes, yes; I am coming!” Eline shouted back almost impatiently, and she buckled her belt and rushed out of her room, through the long corridor, sombre in its brown oak panelling, down the broad stairs, and out of the hall.
In the garden Cathérine Howard was walking with Otto, her brother. She was not pretty, but she had a pleasant cheerful face, and she was almost as lively in her movements as Etienne.
“Oh, Otto, I can well understand it,” she said affectionately, as she hung on his arm. “I think she is a dot of a girl. From Freddie’s and Mathilde’s letters I expected to see something of a coquette, because I really didn’t much remember, it’s so long since I saw her, and then it was only for a moment or two at a time, when she was living with that old aunt—a widow, a Madame Vere, I believe, was it not?”
“Yes,” said Otto.
“But now, on closer acquaintance, I think she is a darling. There is something so winning and frank about her way of speaking, something very simple and unaffected, and yet distingué. And she is a little doll, really very pretty.”
“Do you think so?” said Otto.
“I should think so. You may well be proud of her; it isn’t every one who can get such a wifie as that. Ah, there goes the bell! they are always early birds here.”
They walked towards the open room, which looked on to the garden, and entered. Old Madame van Erlevoort was already seated at the long breakfast-table, and gave a smiling nod to her son and daughter. Eline stood talking to Théodore, who reminded her neither of Otto nor of Etienne, as he stood there sturdy and [[190]]broad-shouldered before her, with his well-set powerful frame, and his short full beard; but in his loud cheery heavy voice there sounded the native, healthy good-nature of the Erlevoorts.
His wife, the young Madame van Erlevoort, or Truus as he called her, was still occupied, with the assistance of Mathilde and Frédérique, in making a few more preparations for the meal. Miss Frantzen set the little van Ryssels on their chairs, and fastened their napkins about their throats. Etienne came in from the garden with Cor, Théodore’s eighteen-year-old son, who was a midshipman, and was now staying at the Horze on furlough. They were followed by the girls and the boys, Willy and Gustave, full of jokes and fun at the expense of their English uncle Howard, whom they did not understand, and whom they were to teach Dutch.