“Good!” Nel smiled suddenly. “You begin to recognise that your work lies here?”
“Yes. I think you have shown me that.”
“Then don’t delay. Join up at once.”
Matheson thought for a moment. He was no longer in any doubt as to his ultimate decision; but there was one thing that remained to be done before he joined up. He spoke of it to Nel—told of his intention to trade down Holman, and of his projected journey on the morrow.
“You won’t find Holman in Johannesburg,” Nel assured him. “On and off for the past three months he has been at Benfontein. He was there, I believe, when I left. But that it seemed to me I had more responsible work to accomplish, I would have shot him like a jackal. I don’t know what he is after at Benfontein, but I don’t trust him. He has been Krige’s evil genius from the beginning. And the women... they simply worship him. His is the hand of the friend stretched forth to deliver them from the oppressor. As though a friendly hand was ever advanced by a stranger nation from entirely disinterested motives! They can’t see that this so strong hand of Germany would make a tool of them.”
For a while he remained without speaking, staring abstractedly ahead of him; then with a sudden movement he looked round sharply, and added:
“They are quite sincere in desiring their country’s good. That—the good of one’s country, is right in principle, only they look at it crookedly. Botha sees straight: always he works unselfishly for his country’s welfare. That is a principle it would be well for all nations to adopt. Good cannot come to any country through war.”
He looked thoughtfully away across the sunlit glory of the gardens, in which the vivid beauty of subtropical flowers and shrubs flourished prodigally, and his face was sad.
“I have watched this country grow and expand,” he said. “I have seen it shrivel beneath the devastation of war, and have watched its struggle until it blossomed forth anew. Now I see it bent and scorched before the fires of rebellion. That is the worst event that has yet befallen. But the land survives these things; only man, with his paltry ambitions and his insignificant span, goes under, paying for the folly of others with all that he has to give. It’s senseless, this business of fighting—a puerile defiance of the laws of life.”
“And yet,” Matheson said, “you and I are drawn into it.”