"Granny, really, I don't feel that I have the vocation."
"And as a doctor?"
"As a doctor, yes, Granny."
"Then I suppose it can't be helped, Addie," said the old woman; and she suddenly broke down and began to sob quietly.
Van der Welcke looked gloomy. The boy looked down upon them where he stood, in front of his father and his grandmother. He liked the old woman and he adored his father and had been hurt by his father's fit of sulkiness. But he couldn't help seeing that it was their vanity that was wounded; and, without wishing to be cruel, he couldn't help saying, very gently:
"Granny, Mamma understood. I should be so glad, Granny, if you and Papa could also understand. . . ."
But Van der Welcke's jealousy of Constance stabbed ruthlessly at his heart: he rose and moved to the card-table.
"Mamma understood, Addie?" the old lady repeated, resentfully. "Oh, Mamma knows that she can't refuse you anything, you see. Papa too; and now he's upset, poor Papa. . . . Our illusions become fewer and fewer, Addie, as we grow older; and therefore it's so terribly sad, dear, when we have to lose the very last of them. We had all placed our hopes in you, my boy."
