When he had finished, the girl said in a low tremulous voice, “Sing again!”
So he sang Tosti’s Adieu; and then Schubert’s Serenade. Such sounds, such words had perhaps never before been heard in the vicinity of the little farmhouse. Yet who can tell! Carden’s Irish imagination evolved the idea that many beautiful things must have been spoken and thought before the flower-like girl by his side had been born. He stirred a little on the old bench at the thought, and the girl stirred too, putting her hand down beside her as if to rise. Carden did not see her movement, but by some strange instinct his hand went down too and found hers there, and finding it took it. She left it for an instant in his, then tried to draw it away; but he held it closely as he always held things he once took a grip on, whether they belonged to him or not, and she left it there. So they sat listening hand in hand while Talfourd sang his last song to them.
I want no star in Heaven to guide me,
I need no sun, no moon to shine,
While I have you, dear love, beside me,
While I know that you are mine.
I need not fear whate’er betide me,
for straight and sweet my pathway lies,
I want no star in Heaven to guide me,
while I gaze in your dear eyes.
I hear no birds at twilight calling,
I catch no music in the streams,
While your golden words are falling
While you whisper in my dreams.
Every sound of joy enthralling,
speaks in your dear voice alone
While I hear your fond lips calling,
while you speak to me, my own.
Again the girl’s strong little hand fluttered like a bird under his, but he held it fast. He liked things that tried to flutter away and escape from him.
I want no kingdom where thou art, love,
I want no throne to make me blest
While within thy tender heart, love,
Thou wilt take my heart to rest.
Kings must play a weary part,
love, thrones must ring with wild alarms,
But the kingdom of my heart,
love, lies within thy loving arms.
At last, Talfourd proposed to go to bed, but first he wanted to know what the plans were for the morning. Swartz was called up and a discussion held. There were no horses to be had at the farm, for it appeared that old de Beer had taken away the only two he possessed.
Swartz’s plan was to take the best horse of the four, ride on to Webb’s and bring back a fresh span in the evening; and Carden thought it a good plan, if Miss de Beer would allow them to encroach so far upon her hospitality.
“We’ll earn our dinner, if there is any shooting to be got about here,” he said.
“Oh, yes; plenty of red-wing partridge, stem buck, and duiker.” She was standing opposite him now, having escaped in the general movement.
“Much matatendela also,” volunteered the old native man Yacop who had come up to take part in the indaba. Carden laughed.