Page:The black tulip (IA 10892334.2209.emory.edu).pdf/166

 gentle like a caress, which whispered through the grated little window in the door, the word,—

“To-morrow.”

Now to-morrow was the eighth day. For eight days Cornelius and Rosa had not seen each other.

  the following evening, at the usual hour, Van Baerle heard some one scratch at the grated little window, just as Rosa had been in the habit of doing in the hey-day of their friendship.

Cornelius being, as may easily be imagined, not far off from the door, perceived Rosa, who at last was waiting again for him with her lamp in her hand.

Seeing him so sad and pale she was startled, and said,—

“You are ill, Mynheer Cornelius?”

“Yes, I am,” he answered, as indeed he was suffering in mind and in body.

“I saw that you did not eat,” said Rosa; “my father told me that you remained in bed all day. I then wrote to you to calm your uneasiness concerning the fate of the most precious object of your anxiety.”

“And I,” said Cornelius, “I have answered. Seeing you return, my dear Rosa, I thought you had received my letter.”

“It is true I have received it.”

“You cannot this time excuse yourself with not being able to read. Not only do you read very fluently, but also you have made marvellous progress in writing.”

“Indeed, I have not only received, but also read