The Shadow of the Past Part 32

"Yes; I'll do that," Matheson a.s.sured him, and held out his hand. Nel grasped it.

"You'll find the rondavel open and provisioned," he said. "You may have a use for it."

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

On parting from Nel, Matheson started to walk briskly, aware that already he was some minutes late for his appointment. It was the first occasion on which he had kept his fiancee waiting. He did not antic.i.p.ate that she would be vexed; the delay had been unavoidable, and the meeting with Nel had saved him an unprofitable journey. A knowledge of Holman's whereabouts simplified his quest and would economise time, which was an important factor; the settlement of this business had to be accomplished while he was free to attend to private matters.

In his hurried walk he overtook the Aplin girls, very gay and important, bedecked with tricolour ribbons and wearing the Union Jack badges in their hats. They were frightfully busy, they informed him, collecting for Christmas parcels for the troops. It was great sport, begging, but desperately tiring.

"One likes to feel that one is helping," Rosie explained.

Their manner towards him was more gracious than it had appeared of late.

On the few occasions when they had met since his engagement they had contrived to convey a sense of aggrieved disapproval, and had pointedly refrained from offering him their congratulations on his forthcoming marriage. They never referred to Brenda.

"Mr Macfarlane told us you were going to Europe," May said. "When do you sail? I've promised to write to half a dozen boys who have joined up for overseas."

"I've changed my mind about that," he said. "There's work to be done out here first."

Immediately their interest waned.

"If I were a man, as I told Mr Macfarlane, I'd want to go where the big things are doing," May a.s.serted. "I wouldn't be bothered with these horrid rebels."

"Somebody must," he said, and refrained from further comment. It would be wasted labour, he felt, to question their point of view.

"But it would be such a lark, going to Europe. It's the chance of a lifetime. I wish mother would let me go."

"Nursing?" he inquired.

"Oh, nursing! That's horrid work. No. I'd like to drive an ambulance wagon, or do something smart... and wear a uniform like the men."

"Yes," he answered, and laughed. "I remember you had always a leaning towards fancy dress. I daresay you'll find something to do even here."

"Oh! we're having a perfectly gorgeous time," put in Rosie, "And we are really working--not just stupid sewing meetings, you know, but hard work. We are organising a fancey fete for the relief of the poor Belgians. It will be great fun. We are raising the funds all right."

"After that we start recruiting," May added, smiling. "The slackers will have a bad time of it. Every man ought to be a soldier."

"You _are_ busy," he said, and wondered whether they ever took anything seriously. The war was not a world disaster, but a huge excitement with possibilities of interesting developments. It gave them something fresh to think about. "I turn in here," he added, pausing outside the gate leading to Brenda's lodging.

Rosie's glance travelled towards the windows of the house, and then back again slowly to his face.

"I suppose Miss Upton has had something to do in influencing your decision to remain out here?" she said. "She wouldn't like you to go to Europe."

"She is satisfied either way," he answered. "Had I sailed for Europe she would have accompanied me. That was settled from the first."

They parted from him unconvinced, and with a slight return of the chill displeasure he had grown to look for from them. The halt at Brenda's gate had seemed to them an affront.

"Of course she stopped him from going," May declared. "She knows if she lets him out of her sight she risks losing him. She was always an artful little thing. I believe he would get out of that engagement if he could. It seems to have flattened him."

"He hasn't been the same since," Rosie admitted, and looked away down the leafy avenue with sentimental eyes. "It's such a pity; he's so awfully good looking," she said, and sighed.

Brenda was on the stoep waiting for him when Matheson reached the house.

She must have witnessed the parting between him and the Aplin girls, which had been sufficiently leisurely to excite resentment in view of her long wait. He forestalled any remark by apologising for his lateness.

"I'm awfully sorry," he said. "Twice I was stopped on the way here. I ought to have been with you half an hour ago. I met a man--a Dutchman-- Nel: he kept me. He wants me to join Botha's army."

She scrutinised him closely.

"And you're going to?" she said.

"Yes."

"These changes are a little unsettling," she observed after a brief reflection. "I was quite prepared for Europe."

"You don't mind?" he asked quickly.

"No." She stood touching his coat softly, caressingly, with her fingers; and her eyes wore a look of quiet satisfaction, almost of relief. "I've dreaded France for you. Out here a man has a chance--a sporting chance; over there it's a war of chemicals. No; I'm not brave.

I never wanted you to go."

"One has to defend the Empire," he said.

"Oh! yes." She smiled suddenly. "No woman really admires the man who thinks otherwise. But..."

She broke off abruptly, and pulled him towards a seat on the stoep and sat down beside him.

"Tell me, who is this man? Why should a Dutchman influence you so strongly? I tried from the first to persuade you to join the Union Forces. I'm jealous of this Dutchman."

He laughed and possessed himself or her hand and pressed it warmly.

"He's a Boer I met up country--one of the finest men I know. He has the welfare of South Africa at heart--like Botha and s.m.u.ts."

"Oh! a loyal Boer," she said.

Matheson made a gesture of impatience.

"That term is applied so differently," he said. "He is one of the men who are on our side, if you mean that."

"Well, but that's being loyal, isn't it?" she said.

"Loyal to one's conception of right--yes. I imagine one needs to be Dutch to see the thing clearly. He is not a son of Empire; he's a South African, heart and soul. His brother is on the other side."

"Ah!" she said. "A rebel. That's painful for him."

"Yes," he agreed. "It cuts him, of course, badly. But he regrets this difference rather than condemns it. That's where the wider understanding of race comes in: he discriminates between sedition and mistaken ideals."

"And he has tutored you?" she said.

"He--and others."