“Your house seems deserted without Elly. What will it be when she is married and gone away for good? Dear Elly!”
She did not hear what Betsy and Vincent answered; she did not hear what Henk said; she let her gray head fall upon her bosom and sat staring in front of her, the bony hands folded in her lap. Life seemed hollow to her, a gray existence full of grief, full of partings and tears, in which men hovered round, sombre and sad, like so many tragic phantoms. And she shuddered when Betsy asked her whether she was cold.
Betsy, though she had never confessed it, had, just like her mother-in-law, in spite of Vincent, who “was so sociable,” also found it lonely and miserable in the house. There was so little change in the summer; it was eternally the tent and eternally Scheveningen; she was really getting sick of it. And now that Eline was back, beaming in her fresh happiness, which seemed to diffuse a rustic odour through Betsy’s drawing-room; now that Eline was full of tales about the Horze, about Théodore and Truus and the children, about the Howards and the little van Ryssels, Betsy perceived that Madame van Raat was right—that Eline was [[204]]the charm of her house. Now Betsy herself commenced to look forward with some misgiving to the time when Eline would leave her, and that misgiving greatly softened her ordinary acerbity. Otto, whom she formerly thought too formal and affected, she thought charming, now that she frequently saw him, for she had insisted that he should often come to dinner.
At table the conversation once more grew lively and cheerful, quite different from the slow, dragging discourse between herself, her husband, and Vincent. To Eline her manner became gentle, out of gratitude for the old pleasantness which she had brought back with her, and they held endless consultations about Eline’s trousseau, which it was now time to see about, if she wanted to marry in the coming winter. Their afternoons they spent together with dressmakers and in shops; they travelled together with Otto to Brussels, where Eline wanted to order her wedding-dress, rich but simple, nothing but white satin, without lace or furbelows.
Eline in the meantime, in all this stir and bustle, had little time left her for thinking, and only in the evening did she get any rest. In the evening they often stayed at home. It was September. Scheveningen gradually lost its attractions, and now that Otto came to dinner it generally grew late without their noticing it. She sat with him in the garden, or in the violet boudoir, and she became quite used to her calm happiness; it seemed in fact as if she had never known anything different. Everything was so restful and contented within her, that she almost longed for some emotion. But no, she loved Otto; that single emotion sufficed for her. Never anything but that; always that calm, always that blue ether! [[205]]
CHAPTER XXI.
Georges de Woude van Bergh studied hard for his examination for Vice-Consul, and one day Emilie had betaken herself to the Verstraetens’ and had a long talk with Mr. and Madame Verstraeten, whilst Lili, very nervous and unhappy, had found much comfort in Emilie. Emilie had laughingly apologized for her unceremonious visit; but really her aged father was ailing and never went out, and she managed everything for him, took everything off his hands, even to a request for access for his son. No; she was certainly not of Georges’ thinking, that one could live without money, and quite understood that Mr. and Madame Verstraeten also could not harbour such an idea; but after all the boy had a prospect, had he not? and the pair of them seemed to have so much set their minds upon that folly, that one could not talk them out of it. The question really was, had Mr. and Madame Verstraeten any personal objection to him, or would they permit the two to wait until they could begin life together without too great a risk of starvation? Would Mr. and Madame Verstraeten be able, at a given moment, to part with Lili? And if they did not quite refuse, how would they decide? A regular engagement, or only a—well, a union of hearts, nothing more? It was a pity, certainly, that the two had made themselves somewhat conspicuous, and that the whole town knew of it, but they were a pair of unsophisticated children, and in time they would be more prudent. The question now was—and Emilie summarized her questions once more with her genial hearty manner, but inwardly a little anxious about the reply.
And Madame Verstraeten sighed and shook her head thoughtfully; but the old gentleman, to Emilie’s joy, did not make any insurmountable objections. But still he had his objections. Lili was so young, such a child; would it not be better if she did not bind herself yet, and took time to make sure that he was Mr. Right? He liked de Woude very much; he had noticed too that the boy had something in him; but still, were not his optimistic financial ideas based rather too much on his love? Had he really no more wants than now in the blindness of his affection he imagined? He was used to a certain degree of luxury. Emilie listened attentively, fully convinced of all those difficulties, about [[206]]which she had once spoken to him herself. But now—now she had allowed herself to be persuaded into the folly of this visit, and she did not want to be faithless to her boy; now she wanted to make it appear as if all those difficulties merely existed in Mr. Verstraeten’s mind, and so she would endeavour to remove them. Thus it was ever. When one had committed one absurdity, one fell from one folly into another, and now she would be compelled to argue against her own convictions. It was a difficult task, talk as she might, and it was perhaps to her Georges’ misfortune that she could plead so well; but dear me, the boy was so smitten, and perhaps after all he was right! There were other little households that were not rich—small officials, sub-lieutenants. No, no; at bottom she was really committing an absurdity; but it could not be helped, it was too late.
And while she pleaded for Georges, she was inwardly angry that he had brought her to do such a thing. Could she, then, refuse that boy nothing, and must she herself be a party to bring about his ruin?