In the midst of the sunshine on that summer day a spirit of melancholy descended upon the whole of the big house and set the nerves of all the inmates tingling. Addie had been, had read Guy's letter, had left at once . . . for Rotterdam. Downstairs, in the morning-room, Adeline sobbed without ceasing; and from the sunlit conservatory the old grandmother stared at her through the vista of the rooms, because she did not understand. . . . Adeline lay sobbing in Emilie's arms; Marie and Paul were with her too; upstairs, Adeletje and Mary remained with Constance. Brauws appeared at the door:
"What has happened?" he asked, in a whisper.
Van der Welcke seized him by the arm, took him into the garden. Klaasje lay half-asleep against the thick trunk of a beech, with Jack nestling in her little skirts, both tired with playing. The child was humming a tune, looking up at the sky, dreaming away amid all the gold that rained down upon her from between the leaves like glittering coins.
"What has happened?" Brauws asked again.
But Van der Welcke could not speak; his throat refused to let the words through.
"Good-morning, Uncle Brauws!" cried Klaasje, dreamily. "Look, Uncle Brauws, I'm very rich. It's raining golden sovereigns over me . . . out of the beech-tree, out of the beech-tree! . . . Out of the beech-tree golden sovereigns are raining over Klaasje!" she hummed rhythmically.
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