straat; he ought to be delighted with it, for with
industry and good will he might go far there. And
indeed he was grateful for it, and promised to do his
best. When he went there for the first time he felt
a sense of relief. Mr, Wessels, a gentleman with a
black beard, spoke kindly to him, saying that he
had known his father well, and that he had great
respect for his Uncle Werendonk ; he himself took
him into the room facing the garden, where Mr.
Opman, the junior partner, was sitting at the desk
near the window. In this room Floris worked morn-
ing and afternoon, sitting against the wall, making
fair copies of documents, with a feeling that his
torments had left him. But sometimes when he was
sent out to deliver a letter, the thoughts returned
again, and then he had the feeling that he needed
them to keep him alert and watchful for his latent
sinfulness. In those first days, too, things seemed to
grow lighter. That, he thought, is because I'm no
longer sitting in that house like a prisoner. It was
a distraction to him to look at people ; he talked
more easily, his listlessness left him. The notary
accosted Werendonk in the street to tell him that he
was agreeably surprised by the boy, he was so indus-
trious and well-mannered, so intelligent and so
cheerful. But at home he was still as quiet as ever,
and Werendonk realised that remorse still weighed
heavily on him. Then he tried to speak to him
now and again in a bright tone, but the pains