When Honor appeared on the stoep the next morning, dressed for the ride
and carrying the early cup of coffee, the horses were saddled and
waiting below the stoep, and Matheson stood in the path beside them
doing something to his stirrup leather. He left what he was doing and
came up the steps and joined her.
"That's too bad," she cried; "you've done all the work this morning."
"No," he contradicted, taking the cup from her hand. "You made the
coffee. I call that sharing. But I have been waiting a good while."
"It's early though," she said, and looked beyond the aloe fence to where
the dew spread its silvery cobwebbed veil along the ground.
"Yes; it's early."
He drank the coffee slowly, standing beside her watching the soft colour
deepening her clear skin, and the look of pleased expectancy shining in
her eyes. He wondered whether she too knew the satisfaction which he
was feeling in anticipation of their uncompanioned ride? It was not
possible that she felt it in the same degree.
He put down the empty cup and assisted her to mount.
"Which direction do we take to-day?" he asked. "Last time we rode to
the south."
"So you remember?" She looked up, smiling, "There isn't any choice
to-day. I have a letter to carry for Andreas to Cornelius Nel. The
Nels' farm is about five miles from here. You will see it when we top
the rise."
"Isn't it somewhat early for making calls?" he asked.
"We need only leave the letter," she said. "We will stop there on our
way home. It is possible they will want us to stay to breakfast; but if
you prefer--"
"Oh, please!" he interrupted. "It's for you to decide."
"Yes. But you don't understand. Cornelius hates the English; his
brother, Herman, is different. Often they do not speak for months as a
result of political disagreement. The farm is jointly theirs, but they
have separate houses."
"In that case," he said, smiling involuntarily, "if we remain to
breakfast, it would seem wise that you should breakfast with Cornelius
and I with Herman. Are they married, by the way?"
"Cornelius is."
"And does Mrs Nel share her husband's prejudices?"
Honor reflected a moment. Then unexpectedly she broke into a laugh.
"Mrs Nel is of the opinion that had the Lord intended the different
peoples of the earth to remain on friendly terms. He would never have
contrived the confusion of tongues."
"Ah!" Matheson's smile broadened. "There is a good deal to be urged in
defence of her argument," he said.
"Do you know,"--Honor glanced at him swiftly--"I believe they will like
you. You have none of the irritating characteristics of the average
Englishman."
"Look here!" he remonstrated. "When you disparage my countrymen, you
disparage me. I wish you wouldn't say those things. I don't know how
far you are in earnest, but I can't take it as a compliment when you
dissociate me from my country. Why not practise a little forbearance?"
"I think we will not remain to breakfast with the Nels," was all she
said in response, and rode on with her face turned from him and her chin
held high.
Matheson felt exasperated. The qualities which appealed to her,
tolerance and a sympathetic understanding, were inexplicably entirely
lacking in herself: she did not desire to take any but a personal view.
The injuries which she, with her family, refused to forget were ancient
scars now; but they kept these scars from healing by constant probing,
indifferent to the fact that the unhealed wound is painful only to the
sufferer. She had not any sense of fair play, he decided, for all her
English blood.
It was rather a silent ride they took that morning. Matheson, sensible
of the tension, of the curious thrill of antagonism which he felt was
common in both, held to his point stubbornly and refused to make
overtures. He was not in the wrong; it was not for him to offer
reparation.
His thoughts crystallised round her while he rode. He attempted to get
a clearer insight into her mind. To grasp her point of view, and that
of other Boers who thought and felt as she did, seemed to him essential
in order to live harmoniously with these people. But her outlook was so
circumscribed, so amazingly egotistical. This grievance was like every
other thing which becomes a personal matter--a cult narrowed down to
pettiness, which alienates even its sympathisers by the selfishness of
its aims. He failed to understand how a beautiful nature could become
corrupted by bitterness. It spoilt her, as all abnormal qualities must
spoil what is simple and direct.
Honor brought her head round presently and met the eyes which he turned
in response to her movement from the contemplation of steel-blue
distances seen between his horse's ears, to fix them upon her face.
"You came out in search of truth," she said, with a suggestion of irony
in her tones. "Have you found it?"
"No," he answered bluntly. "How can I find what you refuse to show me?"
She flushed brightly and made no answer. After a moment or so he said:
"I think you are a little vexed that I asked you to ride alone with me
this morning."
"No," she contradicted quickly, "no. There is no reason why I should
not wish to ride with you. The first ride we took was at my suggestion.
I have taken pleasure in watching your interest."
Matheson felt while he looked at her that he had never been so baffled
by any one in his life; her psychology was altogether beyond his
understanding. On the whole he enjoyed that ride, though what
constituted the enjoyment he would have been at a loss to explain.
Possibly the assurance he felt, even in the moment of her annoyance,
that despite her prejudices she realised, perhaps admitted to herself,
that he had a hold upon her which threatened to weaken those carefully
fostered antagonisms, was a sufficient satisfaction. He was certain of
her interest in himself, and this gave him unbounded pleasure. His
reciprocal interest was advancing with amazing rapidity. One soft look
from those eyes which held a smile in them would cause him a thrill of
happiness such as he had never known before. She excited him. Also her
influence set stirring within him the beginning of a new responsibility
which had for its ultimate object the complete reconciliation of her
people with his own. It was unthinkable that Honor and he should remain
enemies. The two races had buried their grievances and become united.
But there were factions on both sides which remained outside the Union.
He hated to think of Honor placed in one of these camps of
irreconcilables. She was altogether too fine for that company. That
sort of thing, racial jealousy, was what the undereducated man and woman
mistook for patriotism. It is the lowest intelligences which keep alive
the sense of injury.
While these new thoughts were shaping themselves in his mind, another
idea presented itself which seemed to open out a way to some sort of an
understanding. The solution lay with Herman Nel--the Boer who did not
hate the English, and wrangled with his brother on the strength of his
convictions. He must talk with Herman Nel. From him he might receive
much useful information.
When he arrived at this determination they were already within sight of
the farm. As they came nearer Honor pointed with her whip to a round
cob building with a grass roof, which stood apart from the homestead and
the outbuildings, as though, like its owner, it withdrew from what it
failed to agree with, maintaining a comfortable isolation on open ground
that defied surprise.
"That is the rondavel," she explained, "which Herman Nel built for
himself when his brother married. It's small, but it is very
comfortable. When he marries he will have to enlarge it."
"Is he thinking of marrying?" Matheson asked.
"Oh, yes. He wants to marry Freidja. But just now they have
quarrelled."
"It would appear that he has a quarrelsome disposition," Matheson said.
"No." She smiled ever so faintly. "He is rather like yourself--he
exasperates other people."
"Ah!" He smiled too. "I should like to meet Mr Herman Nel."
Mr Nel came out from his rondavel at that moment, stood for a second or
so looking in their direction, and then came swiftly towards them.
Honor, who was riding in the direction of the homestead, changed the
horse's course and went to meet him. It occurred to Matheson that she
would have preferred to avoid the meeting; she did not seem pleased.
Nel came on unhesitatingly. When a short distance off he raised his
wide-brimmed hat and flourished it; and Matheson observed that his hair
was turning grey; grey showed also in his short pointed beard. He was a
man of middle height and spare build, rather handsome, with an alert
expression, and clear blue eyes with a humorous twinkle in them. The
twinkle in them faded when they rested upon Matheson. It appeared to
Matheson that they refuted Honor's assertion of their owner's bias in
favour of the English. Nel's face expressed curiosity, and something
which looked very like contempt, as it lifted to his own. He
transferred his attention almost immediately to Honor.
"So it's you?" he said, shaking hands. "I gathered from Andreas last
night that some one would be over from Benfontein in the morning. I was
on the watch to intercept you."
"I am afraid you are disappointed," Honor said with a laugh.
"Not disappointed, but not wholly satisfied," he answered. "How are
they all at home?"
She made some reply in Dutch, which Matheson failed to understand, and
which did not seem to afford Nel particular pleasure. He made no
response, but looked somewhat dejected. Honor turned abruptly and
brought Matheson into the conversation by effecting an introduction.
"Mr Matheson," she explained, as the two shook hands, "is staying at
Benfontein."
"Yes, I know." The tone was short and lacked cordiality. "Mr Holman's
friend, eh?"
For the first time since his arrival in the district Matheson heard
Holman's name spoken without friendliness; also the speaker gave it an
un-English pronunciation; he had noticed that previously with the
Kriges, and had put it down to the Dutch accent. It might be, he
reflected, that Nel was jealous of Holman's popularity at Benfontein.
"I was admiring your curious dwelling as we rode up," he said. "You've
built on the native style. I like it."
Nel was vain about his house: he unbent a little.
"You must come and see it," he said. "Look in on your return. If I am
not there, go inside. There are no secrets--it is open to inspection."
He looked towards Honor.
"You will be staying to breakfast? ... Leentje expects you."
Honor hesitated; and Matheson, observing her hesitation, explained the
difficulty.
"Miss Krige doesn't trust me sufficiently to allow me to breakfast with
her friends," he said, smiling. "We belong to opposite camps. Couldn't
I inspect the rondavel while she delivers her message?"
"So!" said Herman Nel, obviously at a loss to understand the position.
"I thought you would have business with Cornelius. But I will be very
pleased if you will breakfast with me instead. They will not let Miss
Krige leave until after breakfast."
He laid a hand on the sweat-darkened, satin neck of Honor's horse; and
the beast turned its head and nosed him with friendly interest. The
hand moved with the slow, rhythmic, caressing touch of the animal lover.
He looked up at Honor smilingly.
"There will be a lot for you to see. The baby has cut his first tooth;
that is perhaps the most important thing. When you have seen everything
and have had breakfast, come to my bachelor quarters and eat meiboss
with us. I will take care of Mr Matheson."
Still Honor appeared reluctant. Matheson could not but notice it; it
seemed as though she hesitated to leave him with Herman Nel.
"I think I ought not to stay," she said.
"I think you will not be able to leave," Nel replied. "When Leentje
tells me a thing is to be so, I accept it; it is less unpleasant to do
that I like peace. You will not forget that I am expecting you to
meiboss, and that I may not stay too long by my house?"
"Cornelius will think it strange, perhaps, that Mr Matheson should
breakfast with you," Honor suggested.
"If Cornelius gives you to understand that he is either surprised or
displeased, extend the invitation to meiboss to him and Leentje," he
replied.
She laughed, and flicked the reins a little vexedly, and rode on.
Nel kept pace beside the second horse. Matheson, despite his protest,
dismounted and walked on the other side.
"Is this your first visit to this district, Mr Matheson?" he asked.
"It is," he answered. "And I believe that in the short time I have been
here more thought and experience have been crowded than during any other
period of my life--certainly any period of like duration."
The eyes of the two men met in a long steady scrutiny. Nel was the
first to withdraw his gaze.
"That is interesting," he replied slowly--"and surprising; so little
happens here. But the less that happens the more time there is for
thought. In my rondavel I have much leisure for thinking; but staying
by Benfontein you are in good company. They are nice people, the
Kriges--yes!"
The undoubted distrust with which Nel viewed him was forced anew on
Matheson's notice. He realised clearly that it would be necessary to
allay this distrust before he could hope to gain his confidence. The
man on the other side of the horse was shrewd, and it was not altogether
surprising that he should entertain doubts of the Englishman's honesty
of purpose. He knew the errand that had brought him there, and formed
his judgment in accordance with his knowledge. Matheson's claim that he
belonged to a different camp puzzled him considerably. He regarded the
speaker as a liar. Men who work evil stealthily are not addicted as a
rule to truth.
"We will leave your horse in the shade of this tree," he said. "My boy
will see to him until you are ready to start."
He called for the boy, and then led the way inside.