“Yes,” Mrs Krige admitted. “I am sorry about it. Honor will never marry; she does not think of it. Since you’ve been here I’ve fancied at times... But she isn’t like most girls; she never gives it a thought.”
“No,” he answered almost fiercely, “because her mind is preoccupied. She’s obsessed with a sense of her wrongs, with a longing for revenge, which she miscalls patriotism. Mrs Krige, I’d give the world to undo the injury that has been done a young, impressionable, and beautiful nature. Honor was made for love, and she puts love outside her life. Her life holds other interests.”
The slow tears gathered in Mrs Krige’s eyes. “You are blaming me,” she said... “I know you blame me.”
“I blame no one,” he answered, and felt savage with himself for hurting her to no purpose. “I’m feeling sore. This thing cuts, you see...”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes—I know. I’m sorry.”
She wiped her eyes quickly, unwilling that he should witness her emotion, and added presently:
“If Honor had given a different answer I should have been glad.”
They stepped on to the stoep in silence. Freidja was in the living-room, superintending Koewe who was bringing in the breakfast. She came to the window and admonished them good-naturedly.
“Ach! I don’t know what is the matter with every one this morning,” she said. “The breakfast has been cooked a long time already, and only myself to eat it. Andreas has not come in yet, and Oom Koos says he will be ready just now—which means in about half an hour, perhaps. Meanwhile the porridge cools, and the chops are burnt. What has got all of you?”
Andreas came into sight while she spoke, and walking with him was Herman Nel. Nel had ridden over on an errand of peace which, as Freidja knew, was connected solely with herself. She flushed on catching sight of him, and retired to the kitchen, where she remained until Nel, having shaken hands all round, and not seeing her, and feeling obviously very much at home at Benfontein, went in search of her, and returned after some while carrying the dish of chops and followed by his fiancée, both of them looking thoroughly happy, and Freidja appearing, to Matheson’s amaze, softened and entirely womanly and rather shy.