[1] The “Queen’s Commissary” of a Dutch province has no counterpart in England except, perhaps, the lord lieutenant of a county. His functions, however, correspond more nearly with those of a French prefect.
Chapter XXI
The door opened and Bertha, Louise and Marianne entered. And they stepped so suddenly right across Constance’ thoughts that she was startled at their appearance: mother and daughters in deep mourning. She had not seen Bertha except on that first hurried visit immediately after Van Naghel’s death and on the day of the funeral, six weeks ago; and she knew very little of what was happening; she had seen Marianne only once. And now that they both stepped right across her thoughts, into that narrow circle—which she condemned, though she herself was unable to move out of it—a great compassion suddenly surged through her, like a torrent. Bertha looked very pale, tired, wasted, grown all at once into an old woman, hopeless and resigned, as though broken under much silent sorrow. Louise’s face wore a rather more tranquil expression; but Marianne beside her, delicate and white, still more delicate and white in her black dress, also diffused an almost tearful melancholy. Mamma rose and went towards them. It was the first time since her husband’s death that Bertha had come to Mamma’s Sunday-evening; and the gesture with which the old woman rose, approached her daughter, embraced her and led her to the sofa where she had been sitting showed the same open-armed and open-hearted motherly affection with which, as Constance remembered, Mamma had received her, Constance, at the door, on the landing, on the first evening of her own return. Dear Mamma!
It touched her so much that she herself rose, went to Bertha, kissed her tenderly, kissed Louise and Marianne. Her voice, for the first time for many a day, had a sisterly note in it that took Bertha by surprise. She pressed Constance’ hand and, after the others had spoken to her, sat down quietly near Mamma, Aunt Lot and Constance. How pale, dejected and resigned she was! She seemed to be looking helplessly around her, to be looking for some one to assist her, to be wishing to say something, to somebody, that would have relieved her. She sighed:
“I have come, Mamma ... but I cannot stay long,” she said. “I am very tired. There are all those business matters; and, though Adolph is very kind and sympathetic and is a great help, it is terribly complicated and I sometimes feel half-dead with it all.... It’s lucky that I have Otto and Frances; I don’t know what I should do without them.... You know we are going to live in the country?...”
“You were thinking about it the other day, dear,” said Mamma, anxiously, “but it wasn’t decided yet ... Bertha, must I lose you?”
“Dear Mamma, it’s better in the country. Adolph wanted us to look round in Overijssel, but I would rather be at Baarn, for instance: it’s nearer to the Hague and you....”
“Why, Baarn, my child? There’s nobody there but Amsterdam people, business-people: such a very different set from ours!...”