And she lay weeping in his arms.
At the Horze the hours of rising and bedtime were early, and the days fled by. The life there, with the exception of a few rainy days, was almost exclusively an open-air life. Their cheeks and their little hands were sunburnt, and they began to look like little negroes, the young van Ryssels, the two boys, Willy and Gustave, and Edmée and Kitty Howard. Among the pigeons which fluttered from their house over the lake they fluttered round, sometimes anxiously followed by Miss Frantzen, Truus’ governess, and Cathérine’s English nurse; especially by Miss Frantzen, who was in constant fear at the thought of Nico and the water. They inspected the aviary and the stables, and were on the best of terms with the gardener and his men, with the coachman and the stable-boy. They fed the birds and the fowls and ducks, and rode round, firmly held by the good-natured stableman, on Théodore’s unsaddled riding-horse, or went swimming, or visited the gymnasium, where they watched the feats of Théodore, who was very powerfully made, and of Howard, who was more lithe and supple, whilst Otto declared he had lost the art, and Etienne swung wildly from ring to ring and jumped over the vaulting-horse. But it was at Cor that the little van Ryssels stared in open-mouthed wonder, as they saw him, with a rather conceited expression, very calmly and deliberately go through the most difficult evolutions, in all the youthful strength of his long, slender limbs. After coffee the boys played cricket with Howard, or in the shade of the lofty trees in the park joined in lawn-tennis with the girls, or lay lazily under a tree with a book doing nothing at all, their hands folded behind their heads. After dinner they walked or floated about a little in the little boat on the lake, and the evening came, and it was ten o’clock ere they thought of it. [[199]]
And her happiness, and the luxury of that sunny country life, made Eline feel so entirely herself, that she wondered whether she really were the same girl of some months before. She felt quite another being; it seemed to her as if her soul had escaped from its glossy draperies, and now was before her in all its simplicity, in the nude whiteness of a statue. She no longer veiled herself in her affectation, she no longer played a part; she was her own self, her Otto’s darling, and this sincerity lent such a new charm to her movements, to the slightest word she uttered, that Truus, to the triumph of Cathérine, admitted she had been mistaken in her; that Frédérique would sometimes sit talking to her for hours, with sisterly frankness; that Madame van Erlevoort called her an angel. When she was alone and for a while revelled in her fresh train of thoughts and emotions, the tears started to her eyes, in gratitude for all the good bestowed on her, and she only wished that time would not fly by, that the present moment might remain for ever. Beyond that she desired nothing, and around her there hovered an infinite rest, an ethereal calm, an ecstasy of bliss.
They retired early at the Horze; at half-past ten every one was at rest. Eline had been chatting for an hour in Frédérique’s room, and she felt happy at Frédérique’s ever-growing sympathy. She had been sitting on the edge of the bed, whilst Freddie was already inside it, and they had talked to each other about all kinds of matters. At times they laughed much, but subdued their laughter, for it was very quiet in the house. At length Eline softly slipped out on the tips of her toes, and once more found herself alone in her own little room. She lit her candle and slowly proceeded to undress, with an unconscious and happy smile about her lips. For a moment she remained seated, and mused, with her thick hair hanging down, and her bare arms and throat, and the same smile still on her lips. She wished for nothing, nothing more, she had all that her heart desired.
And she opened her window and looked out. The rain had ceased, and an odour of damp foliage was wafted towards her. The sky was clear, except for a few filmy cloudlets, and the brilliant crescent of the moon seemed as though placed in relief against the deep blue heavens; the fields lay silently spread out before her; a single little windmill lifted its black wings motionless in the pale moonlight; the ditches gleamed like streaks of silver, and a fragrant [[200]]freshness arose from the slumbering landscape, like a soft faint sigh. Eline leaned against the window, and folded her arms across her bare throat. To her it seemed as though that fragrant freshness, that faint sigh, refreshed and sweetened all her thoughts as with an odour of field flowers, that chased away the unhealthy, enervating miasma of her former emotions, like an overpowering perfume of musk and opoponax. She felt herself so young, as she had never felt before, and oh! of that she was certain—never had she loved as she loved now—never, never! Her Otto! When she thought of him, she did not feel it necessary to call to her mind some idealized image; she thought of him as he actually was, so manly and frank in his genial simplicity, and with one single thought that ruled his whole being, the thought of her. His love was so rich, so full, his love filled him completely. And hers grew every day, she thought—no, it could grow no more! No further wish was hers, no more brooding over the future. In due course it would unfurl itself before her, a perspective glowing with brightness and gold! Nothing more remained than the stillness of that lake into which her soul had glided, nothing besides the rest and the love of that blue ecstasy, full of bliss! Only that, nothing else, nothing more! What indeed could human soul yet wish for?
Only one little darkening streak amid all that blue. Only the fear—the fear that it would ever be different. It was so long since she had prayed, she did not even know how to pray; but now, now she would gladly have done so, have prayed that it would ever be thus, that it might never change, always that soft happiness, always that restfulness and peace, that blue ether.
“Never, never again as once! God—ever thus, ever as now! Were it to change, I should die,” she whispered inaudibly, and as she folded her hands a tear trembled on her lashes. But it was a tear of joy, for in her happiness that vague fear was dissolved like a drop in the ocean. [[201]]
CHAPTER XX.
At the Hague, August passed by glowing hot, but the nights were cool on the terrace at Scheveningen, or in the tent of the Bosch. It was Sunday evening, and Betsy stayed at home; old Madame van Raat had not been to see her for so long, that she asked her mother-in-law to come around; Sunday was not much of a day at Scheveningen. They were to drink tea in the conservatory, the glass doors of which were already open. Henk walked with Madame van Raat through the garden, and the old lady admired his splendid roses. Betsy and Vincent sat alone.