Then Anna remembered the infamous dialogue between her parents at which that morning she had been present. The hot tears of shame came rushing into her eyes, forced their way through her closed fingers and went trickling down her shapely hands as she sobbed out:
“Oh, my God! my God!”
“Miss Anna, dear Miss Anna,” said van Nerekool, deeply moved at the sight of her grief; “do be calm; pray, do not despair. I will do all I possibly can to save that unfortunate man. I promise you that solemnly.”
“But, my father,” cried Anna, as she hurriedly with her handkerchief tried to wipe away the tears which were still flowing fast. “But, my father?”
“Not a word of all this to him.”
“Oh! no; Mr. van Nerekool,” said she, “I do not mean that; but will this wretched business compromise him in any way?”
“Not if I can help it,” replied he; “I shall do my best to arrange matters so as to leave him out of the question altogether. Trust me.”
“Thank you, thank you,” said Anna. “Now let us say no more. I will go in and try to hide my feelings; you had better remain at the piano for awhile.”
“Yes,” said he, “I shall go on playing something or other and then I will take my leave.”
In a quarter of an hour or so, van Nerekool was again standing behind the card-players. The game was nearly over, they were just having the last round and soon the company began to break up.