In the hall, just as the carriage had driven up which was to convey the three visitors to the station, Ursula appeared with a small parcel in her hand; she gave it to Theodore, who buttoned it out of sight, without even saying “Thanks.”
“There is one thing still,” she began, hurriedly. “You heard about the election. I had a letter yesterday from the Opposition Caucus, asking me if I wished to put forward a candidate, or would accept one from them. I have none. I have one. I mean, I had thought, hearing what you said at dinner, that, if your political opinions were theirs—”
“I have no political opinions,” he answered, moving away from the sheltering pillar to the light where the others stood grouped.
She put out one hand. “I am sorry,” she stammered, trembling from head to foot. “I had thought—it is the one only thing I could have done to thank you—to express my gratitude—”
“I want no thanks,” he replied, literally shaking off her hand. “Gratitude, pshaw! I told you a couple of hours ago that I have as much right to do this as you have. I am not all peasant, Mevrouw. You remind me too frequently of that side.” And he went and took up his own valise. “The servants forget these things,” he said to Helena.
When they were all gone, Ursula crossed the cold emptiness of the hall and encountered Hephzibah. The maid shrank away. “Hephzibah, I want you to do me a favor,” said the young Baroness. “Would you take this letter, when you go to the Parsonage to-morrow with the Freule, and give it to a person who is staying at Klomp’s? Please give it into her own hands. There is money in it.”
“H’m,” reflected Hephzibah, watching the tall figure in its slow ascent. “Money in it. Is there? And why? Throw a barking dog a bone.” She shook her head. “If I hear that noise up-stairs again,” she muttered, “I’ll write to the Jonker, wife or not. But I’ve said that so often before! And if the Jonker’s got a wife already, what business had he wearing Mevrouw’s glove in his bosom and duelling? I saw him pick it up. It’s a bad world, a bad world. But I’m a blessed body to feel how bad it is. I told cook about the groanings, though I didn’t explain their reason, so she only said I ought to take medicine.”
“Well, Willie, I’ve lost my wager,” declared Helena, as soon as they were rid of the “post-boy.”
“I don’t know about that, but pay up anyhow. You deserve to, Nellie, for your treatment of Ursula. Poor thing, she behaved very well, I thought. She’s quite lost that magnificent rich complexion of hers. She looks sallow.”