Eline’s voice sounded hoarse and rough, and to Henk it seemed that she was delirious. Then he heard a soft, reproachful whispering of Jeanne, followed by the sobbing of Eline, who accused herself of ingratitude.
Soon Frans came back, shrugging his shoulders.
“She won’t see you. You had better resign yourself to it. I [[244]]believe she is in a violent fever. Do you think Reyer is still at home? If so, I should drive down to him if I were you.”
“All right,” said Henk dejectedly, “I will go.”
Eline was still lying on her couch covered with woollen blankets, and she groaned softly as if in pain.
“You are so kind to me, Jany, but you see of course I can’t remain here, and trouble you like this,” she went on, sorrowfully. “You haven’t very much room. I must be an inconvenience to you. This afternoon I shall go to an hotel.”
Jeanne sat down beside her and took her hands in hers.
“Eline, be sensible now, and don’t talk any more about that. Believe me, you are ill; you remain quietly here with us. I won’t insist that you shall return to Betsy’s, but then you must not talk about going to an hotel.”
“Yes, but if I am ill—I don’t believe I am, but you say so—if I am ill, it will be some time before I can leave you again. And—and—oh, forgive me for saying it—I know you cannot afford it, Jany dear; forgive me, forgive me for saying it.”
Jeanne looked at Eline tenderly, and her eyes filled with tears.