“Oh, now there is nothing; now the game is spoiled. Think all I had won this evening! But it is lost now.”
“I will gladly ask Uncle’s pardon, if you like, Maurits.” And she really meant it. She was honestly sorry to have hurt Uncle.
“That is of course the only right thing to do; but one can ask nothing of any one as ridiculously shy as you are.”
She had not answered, but had gone straight to the smoking-room, which was almost empty. Uncle had thrown himself down in an arm-chair.
“Why will you not dance with me?” she had asked.
Uncle Theodore’s eyes were closed. He opened them and looked long at her. It was a look full of pain that she met. It made her understand how a prisoner must feel when he thinks of his chains. It made her sorry for Uncle. It seemed as if he had needed her much more than Maurits, for Maurits needed no one. He was very well as he was. So she laid her hand on Uncle Theodore’s arm quite gently and caressingly.
Instantly new life awoke in his eyes. He began to stroke her hair with his big hand. “Little mother,” he had said.
Then “it” came over her while he stroked her hair. It came stealing, it came creeping, it came rushing, as when elves pass through dark woods.
III
One evening thin, soft clouds are floating in the sky; one evening all is still and mild; one evening the air is filled with fine white down from the aspens and poplars.