“I know that,” he answered, much relieved. “If I didn’t know that, I should long ago—” He checked himself, as much from pride as from any gentler feeling.
“Have given it up,” she quietly concluded his sentence. “You are right. I have been making up my mind. I, too, give over.”
“Mynheer Noks is asking to see Mevrouw,” said the man-servant, once more disturbing her, in the same careless, impersonal voice.
Theodore started at the name. “Do nothing in a hurry,” he pleaded—“nothing to-day. As a personal favor to myself. I have a right to ask that. The villagers will say you are afraid.”
“I promise,” she answered, “for to-day. I have no right to refuse you. But I am not afraid of villagers.”
A moment later she stood opposite the notary.
“I have brought the deed of deposit, Mevrouw,” said that functionary. “And my witnesses are waiting in the hall. Have you the document ready?”
“No,” replied Ursula. “My good Notary, I owe you most ample apology, but I cannot help myself. I have been compelled to abandon the idea of making a will.”
The notary stared at her for a moment, too angry to speak. He was a rough man by nature, as she had seen, but not devoid of intelligence. At last he burst out, “Then go and—see ‘Rigoletto,’ Mevrouw, next time you visit at Drum.”
Ursula had never been to the opera in her life, Mynheer Mopius’s one attempt to take her having failed.