"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 circ.u.mscribed, 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 const.i.tuted the enjoyment he would have been at a loss to explain.

Possibly the a.s.surance 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 gra.s.s 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 a.s.sertion 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 p.r.o.nunciation; 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.