he Van Lowe family and known in Holland by the generic
title of _The Books of the Small Souls_. The remainder will be
translated and published if and as the antecedent volumes find favour
with English and American readers. They are called: _The Later Life, The
Twilight of the Souls and Dr. Adriaan_.

ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS.

CHELSEA, 4 _December_, 1913.

SMALL SOULS

CHAPTER I

It was pouring with rain; and Dorine van Lowe was tired out when, by way
of a last visit, she dropped in on Karel and Cateau just before dinner.
But Dorine was pleased with herself. She had gone out immediately after
lunch and had trotted and trammed all over the Hague; she had done much,
if not everything; and her tired face looked very glad and her bright
black eyes sparkled.

"Have meneer and mevrouw gone in to dinner yet, Sientje?" she asked,
nervous and breathless, in a sudden fright lest she should be too late.

"No, miss, but it's just on six," said Sientje, severely.

Dorine van Lowe whisked through the hall and rushed upstairs, forgetting
to put her wet umbrella in the stand. She clutched it in one hand,
together with her skirt, which she forgot to let fall; in her arm she
held a parcel pressed close to her, under her cape; in the other hand
she carried her muff and her old black satin reticule; with the same
hand, making a superhuman effort, she felt for her pocket-handkerchief
and managed to blow her nose without dropping anything but four or five
tram-tickets, which flew around her on every side.

Old Sientje followed her with her glance, severely. Then she went to the
kitchen, fetched a cloth, silently wiped up a trail of rain and drops
along the hall and staircase and carefully picked the tram-tickets off
the stair-carpet.

Dorine walked into her brother's study. Karel van Lowe was sitting
placidly by a good fire, reading; his smooth-shaven face shone pink and
young. He wore his thick, glossy hair neatly combed and brushed into a
fine tuft; he dyed his moustache black; and, like Dorine, he had the
black eyes of the Van Lowes. His broad figure looked comfortable and
well-fed in his spruce clothes; his waistcoat lay in thick creases over
his stomach; and his watch-chain rose and fell with his regular
breathing. He seemed calm and healthy, full of calculating prudence and
quiet selfishness. He gently put aside the magazine which he was
reading, as though he felt that he was