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52 like to-day, and, when I got home, I was fanciful and frightened: the wind seemed to me so gigantic and I. . . I was so small. . . . Then you came home. . . and I was so frightened. . . I crept into your arms. . . I looked into your eyes, Addie. . . . In those days, it was very strange, they changed colour, they turned grey. . . . Now they are sometimes quite dark-grey, but sometimes I see a gleam of blue in them. I used to feel so sorry. . . that they changed colour. . . . Do you remember? It was not long before Uncle Gerrit died. . . . Oh, how frightened I felt. . . for days and weeks before! . . ."

"And why are you thinking of those days, Mammy darling?"

"I don't know why. Perhaps only because it's blowing. . . . How small our country is by the sea! . . . It's always blowing, always blowing. . . . One would think that everything that happens is blown to us, across the sea, and comes down upon us, in heavy showers of rain. . . ."

He smiled.

"Oh, my boy, sometimes I feel so terribly heavy-hearted, without knowing why! . . ."

"Is it the house?"

"The house? No, no, it's not the house."

"Don't you like the house even now?"

"Oh, yes . . . I'm pretty used to the house!"

"Is it the wind, the rain?"

"Perhaps both. . . . But haven't I known them for years?"

"Then what is it that makes you heavy-hearted?"

"I don't know."

"Come here, to me. . . ."

"Where, my boy?"

"On my knees, in my arms. . . ."

She sat down on his knees and smiled, sadly: