Part 32 (1/2)

”No, no!” said Van der Welcke, becoming interested. ”Don't beat about the bush; say what you meant to say.”

”I couldn't understand your having the idea, or how the idea could ever have occurred to your wife: I tell you so, honestly. De Staffelaer is a relation of the Eilenburgs and of the Van Heuvel Steyns; and it would surely be painful for you and your wife to meet those people, wouldn't it?... That's all.”

”Short and sweet,” said Van der Welcke, still feeling put out.

”But that's the whole point of it.”

”You're right,” muttered Van der Welcke, gloomily. ”Perhaps we ought never to have come to the Hague.”

”Nonsense!” said Van Vreeswijck, rather feebly. ”Your old friends are glad to see you back again. The question of the Court is non-existent with you both. Well, then there's nothing to fret about.... As for myself, I am more than glad to see you at the Hague again,” he continued, more cheerfully, almost in a tone of relief. ”I have the pleasantest memories of the occasions when I had the privilege of meeting your wife in Brussels. When would it suit you both for me to come and call?”

”Will you look round one evening? Or, if you really want to be friendly, come and dine.”

”I should like to, above all things. When shall I come?”

”Day after to-morrow, at seven.”

”Delighted. Just yourselves? And I'll call and leave a card to-morrow.”

”By the way,” said Van der Welcke. ”You mentioned De Staffelaer: where is he now?”

”At his country-place, near Haarlem. He's still flouris.h.i.+ng. He's well over eighty.”

”He must be.”

They parted. Van der Welcke went gloomily home. It was curious, but, every afternoon, when he went home from the Witte or the Plaats, he had that gloomy, unsettled feeling. The moment he set eyes on Addie, however, his face at once lighted up; but, this time, when the boy wanted to romp, before dinner, Van der Welcke began to think whether Constance would approve of his having asked Van Vreeswijck to dinner two days later....

They sat down to table:

”By the way,” said Van der Welcke, hesitatingly, ”I met Van Vreeswijck; and he wanted to call on you and asked when it would suit you.”

”He might have done so long ago,” said Constance, who had entertained Van Vreeswijck once or twice in Brussels.

”He apologized,” said Van der Welcke, in defence of his friend. ”He did not know whether you were quite settled. I told him he must come and dine one night and--if it's not too much trouble for you--I asked him to come the day after tomorrow.”

”I think he might have paid a visit first.”

”He said something about leaving a card to-morrow. But, if you don't care about it, I'll put him off.”

”No, it's all right,” said Constance.

It was an instinct with her to be hospitable, to have her house always open to her friends. But, until now, she had dreaded asking any one to meals, except Gerrit and Adeline, quite quietly, and, just once, Paul.

Paul happened to call that evening.

”Do you mind if I ask Paul too?” she said to her husband.

”No, of course not; Paul is delightful.”

Paul accepted with pleasure. On the evening of the little dinner, he was the first to arrive.

”Addie is dining with Gerrit and Adeline,” she said. ”It will be nicer for him.”