"I am Burke Ranger's wife," she told him. "But I left off being a bride a long time ago. We are all too busy out here to keep up sentimental nonsense of that sort."
"And isn't it the cynic that ye are entirely?" rejoined the visitor, broadly grinning. "Sure, it's time I introduced myself to the lady of the house. I'm Donovan Kelly, late of His Majesty's Imperial Yeomanry, and at present engaged in the peaceful avocation of mining for diamonds under the rubbish-heaps of Brennerstadt."
Sylvia held out her hand. There could be no standing upon ceremony with this man. She hailed him instinctively as a friend. There are some men in the world whom no woman can regard in any other light.
"I am very pleased to meet you," she said, with simplicity. "And I know Burke will be glad too that you have managed to make your way over here. You haven't chosen a very nice day for your visit. What a ghastly ride you must have had! What about your horse?"
"Sure, I'd given myself up for lost entirely," laughed Kelly. "And I said to St. Peter—that's my horse and the best animal bred out of Ireland—'Pete,' I said to him, 'it's a hell of a country and no place for ye at all. But if ye put your back into it, Pete, and get us out of this infernal sandpit, I'll give ye such a draught of ale as'll make ye dance on your head with delight.' He's got a taste for the liquor, has Pete. I've put him in a cowshed I found round the corner, and, faith, he fair laughed to be out of the blast. He's a very human creature, Mrs. Ranger, with the soul of a Christian, only a bit saintlier."
"I shall have to make his acquaintance," said Sylvia. "Now come in and have some refreshment! I am sure you must need it."
"And that's a true word," said Kelly, following her into the sitting-room. "My throat feels as if it were lined with sand-paper."
She rapidly cleared a place for him at the table, and ministered to his wants. His presence was so large and comforting that her own doubts and fears had sunk into the background. For a time, listening to his artless talk, she was scarcely aware of them, and she was thankful for the diversion. It had been a terrible afternoon.
He began to make enquiries regarding Burke's absence at length, and then she told him about the veldt-fires, and the menace to the land. His distress returned somewhat as she did so, and he was quick to perceive the anxiety she sought to hide.
"Now don't you worry—don't you worry!" he said. "Burke wasn't made to go under. He's one in a million. He's the sort that'll win to the very top of the world. And why? Because he's sound."