“Thank you, Mynheer, my actions shall show me not ungrateful.”
M. de Witt clasped the frail fingers warmly.
“Mr. Bromley will be tired of waiting,” said the Prince, “and I fear I have already trespassed on your kindness.”
He picked up his hat and gloves from the chair by the fire.
“Until to-morrow, Mynheer.”
The Grand Pensionary came to the door with him. The lamps were lit in the Kneuterdyk Avenue, and the invariable autumn mists were blowing coldly from the sea.
“There will be skating soon,” said William, with a little shiver.
Mr. Bromley, walking the horses up and down, stopped before the house at sight of his master.
“Good-night, Highness.”
“Good-night, M. de Witt; and again, thank you.”