"Well, who's for church to-day?" said Brian, one fine Sunday morning as
we straggled in to breakfast. "There's one, anyhow," he appended, as
Beryl appeared, clad in a riding habit. "Wouldn't you rather drive,
Beryl? It's going to be hot."
"No. I think I'll ride," she answered, busying herself with the cups
and saucers. "Meerkat wants some exercise, he's getting too lively even
for me. Are you up to going, dad?"
"Make it rather a heavy load, won't it? Still, George might ride.
That'll make three of us--quite enough load too, for that heavy cart."
This was a suggestion which, overtly on the part of one of its hearers,
privily on that of another, met with scant approval. On that of George
because he preferred being driven, and the shade of the cart tilt, and a
comfortable seat, to the trouble of jogging over ten miles of road in
the sun, and on a possibly rough-going mount. On that of myself because
I did not in the least want George on this occasion, nor anybody else.
I wanted the ride alone with Beryl. In fact, I had more than half set
up this arrangement when we had heard the day before that there would be
church service at Stacey's farm at the distance above stated, whither a
parson had unexpectedly turned up.
"Well, I don't think I shall go at all," went on the last speaker. "I
don't feel much up to it."
"You're very wicked, dad," chipped in Iris, with a shake of the head.
"Why, it's six weeks since last church Sunday."
"Quite right, kitten," laughed her father, reaching out a hand to stroke
her bright sunny hair. "Never mind. You can behave twice as well as
usual because I'm not there."
"Well, I'll stay with you."
"No, no. I can't allow that," he laughed. "Not for a moment."
In point of fact, the proposal had required some self-denial, for these
occasions were highly popular with the children by reason of the outing
involved, and the gathering at the other end, wherefore Miss Iris
suffered herself to be over-ruled quite placidly. The said gatherings
were of irregular occurrence; this scattered flock for that very reason
being but little shepherded.
Septimus Matterson hardly ever talked about religion or its principles;
he went one better--he practised them. For the young ones that sort of
training was Beryl's province, he reckoned; while as for Brian and
myself, why, we were old enough to know our own minds in such matters
and act accordingly. If we chose to attend the somewhat irregular
ministrations at Stacey's we could do so; if not, that was our own
business.
To-day, especially, I very much did so choose. It was one of those
heavenly mornings in late autumn which I don't believe you can get
outside South Africa--no, not even in Italy--for where else will you
find a sky so deeply, so vividly blue; such a sunlight sweep of gold
upon rolling seas of green foliage; or open grass veldt studded with
delicate-fronded mimosa; such an atmosphere too, which, with no sharp
touch in it, is warm and yet exhilarating at the same time. And the
unending vistas opened up--the rise of hills, near and far,
green-crested, or stately with a crown of bronze-faced cliff, glowing
red gold in the generous sunlight; against a background of ever-vivid
unbroken blue. Small wonder that on such a day, as Beryl and I cantered
along, our spirits were at the highest.
"I don't ride Meerkat half enough," she said. "Look how lively he is."
I did look, and the picture was worth it. The horse, holding high his
stag-like head, deep-shouldered, delicate-limbed, yet full of fire and
muscle, hardly restrainable in his sportive freshness, would have taken
a good many women all they knew to manage. Yet this one sat him to
perfection, firm, light in the saddle, swaying with his every movement
as though for the time being part of the steed himself; graceful,
smiling, snowing no sign of heat or effort, just a little glow of health
and contentment flushing her cheeks. No, Beryl never looked better than
on her favourite horse. To-day she looked splendid.
I had arranged this ride along with her for a purpose, and the readiness
wherewith she had concurred in the arrangement might have meant nothing,
but I preferred to think the contrary--that she understood my purpose
and concurred in it. I had been here now some months, and we had seen
each other daily, and the complete cordiality of our intercourse, with
never a hitch, never a jar, so far from waning, had, if possible,
increased. I had resolved to-day to bring matters to a head; yet in
the--to me--complete happiness of this our ride together, I seemed to
defer anything that might break the charm. I would leave it to our
return ride. So we chatted on as usual, and gaily, about one thing and
another, and then, even if I had wished it otherwise it was too late,
for we could see the white tilts of Cape carts and buggies coming from
different directions along road and veldt path--riders, too, like
ourselves, but all converging upon the common objective. Then the
increasing "whang-whang" of a bell, as we drew nearer to this, seemed to
cause a general hurry up on the part of all within sight.
I off-saddled our horses and knee-haltered them, among others performing
the same operation; Beryl the while having gone forward to greet the
people of the place and other acquaintances, and these were many, for of
course everybody knew everybody. Just as we were going in Trask bore
down upon us.
"I say, Miss Matterson, and you, Holt. Come in front, will you, and
help to make a choir. I'm rounding up as many as I can."
"Not going to have Christmas over again, eh, Trask?" I said
maliciously, the point of which being that Trask, who really did know
something about music, and was _ex officio_ organist, or to be more
accurate, harmoniumist, had on the occasion referred to undertaken to
launch out into anthems and carols and all sorts of things unknown to
the multitude: such ambitious soarings, and the letting off of wholly
extemporised and weird harmonic fireworks on the instrument, which he
called "accompaniment" resulting in the silence, by relays, of the whole
body of singers; though not before the latter had ingeniously if
unconsciously blended the "Adeste fideles," the "Old Hundredth," "Coming
through the Rye," and other historic and popular melodies into one
inspiring whole. It may be readily imagined that of this fiasco Trask
did not quickly hear the end, wherefore he liked not my present
reference.
"Oh, go to blazes, Holt," he retorted pepperily. "I'd like to know what
you'd have done in my place with such a lot of--of--" and here he was
obliged to stop short, remembering that Beryl had been one of the
offenders. She, catching my eye, was thoroughly enjoying the situation.
"All right, Mr Trask," she answered. "We'll do what we can. Only you
mustn't try and make us do what we can't."
The little plain, whitewashed building--which Stacey had erected on his
farm, and was inordinately proud of, and fond of alluding to as "my
church"--was nearly full, a thoroughly representative congregation of
stock farmers, and their families. Many, like ourselves, had ridden
over, and there was a sprinkling of habits among the feminine section of
the gathering, eke a proportion of pretty faces. But, great Hercules!
there was nothing here to come near Beryl. Looking round, I realised
with a glow of pride that, compared with these, she was as a lily among
daisies and--she was with me, standing by me, sitting by me, kneeling by
me. It seemed--or I wanted it to seem--as though I had a kind of
proprietary interest in her.
Frankly, I own to not being much of a church-goer; far indeed be it from
me to cast a slight on those who are. It is sad, though a fact, but the
process--especially in the morning--has a soporific effect. Yet here,
in this little whitewashed building, with the blue sky glimpsed through
the open windows, the hum of bees and the strange call of birds in the
bush without, wafting in to mingle with the parson's voice and the
murmurs of the congregation, I did not feel drowsy in the least. The
graceful habit-clad figure beside me, the profile at which I stole more
than one side glance, the sweet true voice, the mere delight of
listening to which constituted, I fear, the sole assistance on my part
towards Trask's choral aspirations--there was no room for boredom or
drowsiness in such proximity; and if this be objected to as a
substituting of the creature for the Creator, well, still in my
blundering untheological mind I have an idea, which I couldn't express
intelligibly to save my life, that on this occasion the influence was
something more than a mere earthly one. But let that pass.
After the service we streamed out into the sunlight, and tongues began
to wag on all sides.
"Do persuade your brother to stay and have dinner with us, Miss
Matterson," said a voice on the other side of Beryl. "We can't; and
it's much too long for poor little Iris to wait if he persists in taking
her back at once. Of course you'll stay--and Mr Holt."
The speaker was one of the two girls who had made their appearance what
time I had got Iris out of the sea at East London, and we had often
laughed over it together, and the figure I must have cut. Then old
Stacey came up and seconded the invite so heartily that Beryl gave way.
But Brian was as adamant. He wanted to get back, for several reasons,
he said. Beryl and I knew more than one of them at any rate. As a
matter of fact, Brian was a bit of a misogynist. He detested fooling
around among a pack of women, he used to say; and the Stacey girls he
held in particular aversion, which was ungrateful of him, as they
happened to cherish a scarcely disguised admiration for his
unappreciative self. So George and poor little Iris were carried
summarily off, greatly to the disgust of the latter.
We who remained made ourselves festive enough. Old Stacey, though
somewhat shaky over his aspirates, was not half a bad old sort, and the
girls showed to far the best advantage in their own home. They made
themselves exceedingly pleasant to Beryl and myself, and if they had a
way of bracketing us together, so to say, it was by no means displeasing
to me, for I had got into a way myself of feeling a sort of proprietary
right in her, when we were among other people. If she noticed this,
assuredly she could not have resented it; at times I would even let
myself think she unconsciously reciprocated it. She would often refer
to me upon some debated matter, for instance, as if mine was the opinion
which rendered it final.
We took leave of our entertainers a couple of hours before sundown, in
great good humour with ourselves and all the world. A misgiving had at
one time seized me lest Trask should inflict himself upon us, as at any
rate part of our way lay together, but he had taken himself off much
earlier--and now we were alone. Not a soul was in sight, not even a
house. The undulation of the veldt, green and gold in the westering
sun, stretching away on either side, was as if deserted by man. Not by
animate Nature, though. A troop of monkeys skipped across our path,
momentarily scaring our horses, and chattering at us from the tree-tops;
and bird voices were never still. Several blue cranes were shambling
along just off our way, and the incessant cooing of doves, near and far,
blended melodiously with the fair and peaceful evening scene.
Yes, the happiness and peace of the day were upon me, as if this fair
scene were an earnest of the happiness and peace which had filled my
life of late. Was it a reflection of that which should continue to
irradiate it? Alas and alas, could I but have foreseen! Yet what
misgiving could strike me then, what foreboding that this day was the
last--the very last day of happiness or peace for me, and indeed for
others, for a long time to come?
"Well, Kenrick, and what is the subject of that very deep meditation?"