Part 45 (1/2)

”We have good news from Nunspeet....”

But Gerrit remembered nothing about Nunspeet; still he did not wish to show it:

”Really?” he said.

Nevertheless she saw it in his blank look.

”Yes,” she continued, ”Ernst is a great deal better. I shall go and see him again to-morrow.”

He now remembered all about Ernst and Nunspeet, but yet he was ashamed of his recent lack of memory and his hollow cheeks almost flushed....

A week later, Ernst came to see him, with Constance. He was so much improved that the doctor himself had advised him to go to the Hague for a few days; he was staying with the Van der Welckes. His hallucinations had almost vanished; and, when Gerrit saw him, it struck Gerrit that Ernst was looking better, his complexion healthier, probably through the outdoor life, his hair and beard trimmed; and his eyes were not so restless, while he himself was neatly dressed, under his sister's care.

”Well, old chap,” said Gerrit, ”so you've come to look me up?... That's nice of you.... I'm a bit off colour. And you...?”

”I'm much better, Gerrit.”

”I'm glad of that. And those queer notions of yours: what about them?”

Ernst gave an embarra.s.sed laugh:

”Yes,” he confessed, shyly. ”I did have queer notions sometimes. I don't think I have any now. But I am staying on at the doctor's. I've only come up for a day or two.... I've seen my rooms again.”

”You have, have you?... And your vases?”

”Yes, my vases,” said Ernst, greatly embarra.s.sed.

”And all the voices that you used to hear, Ernst ... all the souls that used to throng round you, old chap: you don't feel them thronging now, you don't hear them any longer?”

Gerrit tried to put on his genial bellow and to poke fun at Ernst about the vases and the souls, as he used to; but it was no good. He lay back in his chair, by the big fire; and his idle thoughts stared before him.

”No,” Ernst answered, quietly. ”I only hear the voices now and again; and I no longer feel them thronging so much, Gerrit.... And you've been very ill, haven't you?” he added, quietly.

”Yes, old chap.”

”You're getting better, eh?”

”Yes, I'm getting better now. My carcase can stand some knocking about.

I'm glad you're better too....”

Constance made a sign to Ernst: he got up, good and obedient as a child.

And they left Gerrit alone.

Adeline was sitting in the other room, with both doors open, because Gerrit's big fire was too much for her and also because she didn't want the children to be running in and worrying him.

”Ernst is looking well,” she said, glancing up at him.

Then her hands felt for Constance' hands and she began to cry, sobbing very quietly lest Gerrit should hear.