“Since my mother died.…”
He took her hands and gazed down into her sad face.
“Thy mother was very gentle and timid, dearest … perhaps she was spared more than she could have borne. Perhaps had she known she would have chosen … to go … and I to let her … they cannot insult her, she died while her name was still respected.… Ah, thou art a beloved child … and hast her eyes.… ‘Blessed be God in happiness and affliction’.… ‘The Lord gave and the Lord taketh away’.…”
He drew her gently towards him and kissed her forehead.
“While we do our duty we cannot be wholly unhappy, Agneta; and while the angels are about us we cannot be lonely—not wholly lonely.”
The sun reddened to its setting, and a full and ruddy light was shed among the quivering leaves and over the spring grass.
The chimes of the Groote Kerk fell on the silence with a swift, clear rise and fall.
Agneta dropped her head on to her father’s breast and sobbed.
“Why—what is the matter?” he asked, distressed.