When they reached the road the girl pointed to a large house with a tower, lying back in a pleasant garden, and informed him that she was staying there.
“It’s nothing of a walk, you see,” she added, smiling suddenly. “Now I am going in to follow your prescription.”
“I’ll walk to the gate with you, if I may,” he said.
His persistence surprised her. It occurred to her as unusual that a man who a few minutes before had been a complete stranger to her should consider an accidental introduction which left them both in ignorance regarding each other’s name sufficient grounds for developing the acquaintance. She looked at him with her steady eyes, which seemed to be gravely considering him, as though she would estimate his worth before committing herself, and answered slowly:
“If it is not taking you out of your way.”
He smiled at the primness of the conventionally worded permission which she so reluctantly gave; it pleased him, he hardly knew why. She pleased him altogether, this little brown girl, with the dark soft eyes that looked so straight into his with their wondering expression which was fearless and shy as well. He liked the clear rich olive of her sun-kissed skin, and the warm unruly brown of her hair. She was not in any sense of the word pretty, save with the beauty that is youth’s, and which vanishes with youth. But there was about her some quality which appealed to Matheson as no physical attraction could appeal; for lack of a more suitable phrase he designated it the essential feminine; but he knew in using the term that it failed in embodying all he wished to convey, failed to portray that brooding spirit of womanhood which he recognised looking out at him from her soft eyes. Possibly had it not been for this look, which he detected when for the first time he met her gaze fully, she would not have caught his attention, would certainly not have stimulated his curiosity. He found himself searching for the look whenever she lifted her eyes; and when for a fleeting second he surprised it in them he had a curious feeling that he wanted to kiss her. He wondered what she would have said had he yielded to the temptation.
“If it took me any part of the way out of my road,” he replied, “it could not be reckoned an appreciable distance. I’ve a fancy to see that you take advantage of the side gate instead of mounting all those steps on to the stoep.”
She emitted a quiet laugh.
“You would make me out quite an invalid,” she said. “I’ve always been encouraged not to fuss over trifles.”
“That advice suggests brothers,” he ventured.