“For thirteen years . . .” Constance began, bitterly.
“Child, child, don’t bear malice, don’t bear malice. Make no more reproaches. All will come right, my child. I am so glad. They are different from us, dear, not so broad-minded, very orthodox and strict in their principles. And, when, at the time, they insisted that Van der Welcke should marry you, that was a great sacrifice on their part, child: it shattered their son’s career.”
“Why?” exclaimed Constance, in a whisper, but vehemently. “It shattered his career? Why? Why need he have left the service?”
“Dear, it was so difficult for him to remain, after the scandal.”
Constance gave a scornful laugh:
“In that circle, where there is nothing but scandal which they hush up!”
“Hush, child: don’t be so violent, don’t be so irritable. I am so glad, Connie! I could kiss those old people. I will call on them too, when you have been . . . to embrace them. . . .”
Mamma was in tears. Constance pressed her hands to her breast: she was suffocating.
“Very well, Mamma,” she said, softly and calmly. “I will be grateful, all my life long, to Papa and Mamma van der Welcke, to Henri, to you, to all of you! . . .”
“Child, don’t be bitter. Try to be a little happy now, among us all. We will all try to be nice to you and to make you forget the past. . . .”
