Even then, what? Even did it hold—it would not affect the main fact. In the consummate purifying of this man’s nature which the past few weeks had effected, he looked backward thence with unutterable abasement and loathing. As he had sown, so must he reap. The re-appearance of the past personified had but emphasised that—had not altered it. He would be the one to suffer, and he only, he thought, with a dull, anguished kind of feeling which he strove hard to think was that of consolation.
“Oh, it is good to be at home again,” said Lyn. “I don’t care much for going over to the Earles’ at any time, but this time somehow or other, I detested it. But—oh, I beg your pardon, Mr Blachland. And you found your cousin there! How awkward and tactless you must think me!”
“You could never be either awkward or tactless, Lyn,” he answered. “Only thoroughly natural. Always be that, child. It is such a charm.”
The girl smiled softly, half shyly. “Really, you are flattering me. You spoil me as much as father does, and that’s saying a great deal, you know,” gaily.
The two were standing on the stoep together, about an hour after their return. Bayfield was down at the kraals, counting in, and looking after things in general, and, helping him, small Fred, who, however, was cracking his long whip in such wise as to be rather less of a help than a hindrance with the flocks. The unearthly beauty of the sunset glow was already merging into the shade of the twilightless evening.
“I wish you were going to stay with us always, Mr Blachland,” she went on. “It would be so nice. If you and father were partners, for instance, like Mr Barter and Mr Smith—only they squabble—why, then you’d always be here.”
He looked at her—mentally with a great start—but only for a second. The frank, ingenuous, friendly affection of a child! That was what the words, the tone, the straight glance of the sweet blue eyes expressed! There was a tinge of melancholy in his voice as he replied:
“Now you flatter me, little Lyn. You would soon find a battered old fogey like me can be a desperate bore.” Then he proceeded to the prosaic and homely occupation of filling and lighting his pipe, smiling to himself sadly over her indignant disclaimer.