But one glad day in the early spring-time the sun shone again--when
Krelis bent down over her bed with a look of real love in his bright
eyes and kissed her; and then--in a half-fearful way that made her
laugh at him with a weak little laugh in which there was great
happiness--kissed also his little son. "As if his father's kiss could
hurt this great strong boy!" she said in a tone of vast superiority:
and held the little atom close to her breast with all the strength
of her feeble arms. She loved with a double love this little Krelis:
greatly for himself and for the strong thrilling joy of motherhood, but
perhaps even more because his coming had brought the other Krelis back
again into the deep chambers of her heart.
It was the prettiest of sights, presently, when she was up and about
again, to see Marretje standing in front of her own door in the spring
sunshine holding this famous little Krelis in her arms. Then, as now,
young mothers were common enough in Marken; but there was a look of
radiant happiness about Marretje--so the old people will tell you--that
made her different from any young mother whom ever they saw. "Her face
was as shining as the face of an angel!" one of the old women said to
me--when I heard this story told in Marken on a summer day. And this
same old woman told me that through that time of Marretje's great
happiness Geert Thysen walked sullen: ready at any moment, without
cause or reason, to fly out into what the old woman called a yellow
rage.
But even from the first the matrons of the island, knowing in such
matters, pulled long faces when they talked about the little Krelis
among themselves. Krelis Kess's son, they said, should not have been
so frail a child; and then they would account for this puny baby by
casting back to the time when Marretje was orphaned before she was
weaned, and so was started in life without the toughness and sturdiness
with which the Marken folk as a rule are dowered. These worthy women
had much good advice to give, and gave it freely, as to how the little
Krelis should be dealt with to strengthen him; but Marretje paid scant
attention to their suggestions, being satisfied in her own mind that
this wonderful baby of hers really was--as she had said he was on the
day when his father first kissed him--a great strong boy.
Krelis, seeing his little son only once a week, was the first to notice
that he was not so strong as a healthy child should be; but when he
said so to Marretje she gave him such a rating that he decided he must
be all wrong. And then, one day, Geert Thysen opened both his and
Marretje's eyes.
It was a bright Sunday afternoon, when the little Krelis was between
two and three months old, that Marretje was sitting with him on her
lap, suckling him, on the steps above her scouring-shelf; and Krelis
was seated on the step above her, and she really was making a back of
his big knees. What with the joy of her motherhood, and her joy because
her Krelis was her own again, it seemed to Marretje as though in all
the world there was only happiness. She held the little Krelis close
to her, crooning a soft song sweetly over the tiny creature nestled to
her heart; and as she suckled him there tingled through her breast, and
thence through all her being, thrills of that strange subtle ecstasy
which only mothers know. And Krelis, in his own way, shared Marretje's
great happiness: as they sat there lonely, looking out over the
marsh-land seaward, their hearts very near together because of the deep
love that was in both of them for their child. Presently Krelis leaned
a little forward, and with a touch rarely loving and tender encircled
the two in his big arms and drew Marretje still closer against his
knees. And they sat there for a while so--in the bright silence of that
sunny afternoon, fronting that still outlook over level spaces cut
only by the level sky-line far away--their two hearts throbbing gently
and very full.
A little noise broke the deep silence suddenly, and an instant later
Geert Thysen was almost within arm's-length of them--standing in a boat
which she had poled very quietly along the canal. Krelis unclasped his
arms and drew back quickly; but Marretje bent forward and grasped the
little Krelis still more closely, as though to shield him from harm.
For a moment there was silence. Krelis flushed and looked uneasy,
almost ashamed. There was a dull burning light in Geert's black eyes
and her face was pale and drawn. She was the first to speak.
"You're quite right to make the most of your sick baby," she said. "You
won't have him long."
"He's not a sick baby," Marretje answered furiously. "He's as strong
and well as he can be!"
Geert laughed. "That puny little thing strong and well!" she answered.
"Much it is that you know about babies, Marretje! Don't you see how the
veins show through his skin? Don't you see the marks under his eyes?
Don't you see how little he is, and how he don't grow? In another
month you'll know more. He'll be over yonder in the graveyard by that
time!" And then she flashed a look on Krelis of that sort of hate which
comes when love goes wrong as she added: "And it is no more than you
deserve, Krelis Kess. You might have had a strong woman for a wife, and
then you would have had a strong child!" With that she gave a sudden
thrust with the pole that sent her boat flying away from them, and in
an instant vanished around a turn in the canal.