The Transvaal from Within: A Private Record of Public Affairs

ay "good-night"; even found the picture of the little lamplit room lingering with him after the front door had closed. Formerly the visits

about when he came; and the man felt that his mother's inquiries about his work were perfunctory. A third voice had d

women smiling at him when he entered-always with a little, surprise, for the time of his coming was uncertain-and getting things for him, and being sorry when he had to leave had had a charm that he did not analyse. It was by degrees that he realised how many of his opinio

o his mother, watched the play of her features and the quick turn of her cheek. Then-it was the least significant of trivialities-she plucked a hairpin from her hair, and began to button her glove. It was revealed to him as he contemplated her that she was eminently lovable. His eyes dwelt on the tender curve of her figure, displayed

, the admiration lasted longer. It was recurrent all the evening. He discovered a novel excel

ad no confidant to prose to; he could never have spoken of the strange thing that had happened to him, if he had had a confidant. He used to sit alone and think of her, wonderi

and he was able to lay almost the whole of it aside. He thought that when a couple of years had gone by, he would be justified in furnishing a small house, and that he might reasonably expect, through the introductions procured by his appointment, to establish a practice. It would be rather pinched for them at first, of course, but she wouldn't mind that much

es here. Had he the right to beg her to relinquish this comparative ease and struggle by his side oppressed by the worries of a precarious income? Then he

himself, to feel persuaded that the fact of her being in a situation made matrimony an advance to her, whether she married well or ill. He would not act impatiently and perhaps spoil her life. But he was very impatient. Through months he used to come away from the Lodge striving to discern importance in some a

while life endured. He ceased to marvel at the birth of his love, it looked natural now; she seemed to belong to Westport so wholly by this time. He no longer contrasted the present atmosphere of the villa with the duller atmosphere that she had banished. He had forgotten that duller atmosphere. She was there-it was as if she had always been there. To reflect that there had been a period when he had know

aining hope was that he might decide never to speak. Here the meditations of the man and the woman were concerned with the same theme-both revolved the claims of silence; but from different standpoints. His consideration was whether avowal was unjust to her; she sustained herself by attributing to him a reluctance to commit himself to a woman of whom he knew so little. She clung to this haven that she had found; her refusal, if indeed he did propose to her, would surely necessitate her re

she had been leading, congenial because it demanded no energy, had done much to render her lassitude permanent. Her pain, the rawness of it, had dulled-she could touch the wound now without writhing; but it had left her wearied unto death. To attempt to forget had been bey

to see one somehow, if not on the day that it reached the town, then later. She knew what parts he played, and where he played them. It was a morbid fascination, but to be able to see his name mentioned nearly every week made her glad that he was an actor. If he could have gon

his "card" anxiously. Three months had slipped away, and between

ld not quell her agitation sufficiently to pick the paper up; she sat staring down at it and deciphering nothing. Then she learnt that Miss Olive Westland, and her husband, Mr. Seaton Carew, encouraged by their successes in the provinces, had completed a

dge daily. As the date for the production drew near, her impatience to hear the verdict had grown so strong that the walls of the co

"No" she had answered, and seen with the eyes of her heart the gloom of a face that used to be pressed against her own. She did not care, s

ly the play had been; produced, and she had read the notice in Mrs. Kincaid's presence. When she finished it she guessed that Carew's hopes were over; unless he had a great deal more money than she supposed, the experiment at the Boudoir would see; it ex

the servant told him his mother had; gone to her

sk if I may go up." Mary cam

said; "Mrs. Kincai

hat's the mat

s had it all day. She h

etter not go

ld. I have just come

oing to si

wake and wan

in the hall, outsi

your book?

ng; she'll be so disappointed when she hears abou

e day, if it's only for a moment. I th

r pardon." She opened the door,

" she asked; "I don't want to s

low. A little snow whitened the laburnum-tree that was visible through the window

it?" he said. "Wher

must have moved it, I suppose. I

that; I'll l

he struck a match. It was

id; "we'll get a li

iving you so much trouble; you

rkness was coming over her. "You had be

with this first," he said-

hand, and the other resting on the mantelpiece. He

her to get away from Kincaid before he could have a chance to touch her. The paper charred and curled, without catching flame, and in her impatience she hate

ro

r; Ellen will have

said; "I want to speak

any longer," s

ething I have been waiting to say to

e shadows filling the room, he co

can guess, perhaps.... Do

'm bound to tell you before I take yo

scene where Tony had said

love to become a worry to you, to make you wish I weren't here. But if you can care a little ... if you think that w

nger; her head was bowed, and in

the hearth, watching her dumbly. When the blinds were lowered, she turned

anything e

thank you;

ar

You don't know

care-not ever s

that w

erstood must be trying to her; but he could not think of anything to say, nor could he shake his brain clear of her last words, which appeared to him incessantly reiterated. He felt as if his hope of her had been something vital and she had stamped it out, to leave him confronted by a new beginning-a beginning so strange tha

s be glad I'm fond of you; I shall always be glad I told you so-I was hoping, and now I un

something kind; but the fut

r after you," she murmured,

e passage, and stood

said; "it looks as if we were

d dully, glanc

nd, and it lay for

ood-nigh

ght, Dr.

er figure was with-drawn, and the view of the interior narrowed-until, whi