“No,” she contradicted quickly, “no. There is no reason why I should not wish to ride with you. The first ride we took was at my suggestion. I have taken pleasure in watching your interest.”
Matheson felt while he looked at her that he had never been so baffled by any one in his life; her psychology was altogether beyond his understanding. On the whole he enjoyed that ride, though what constituted the enjoyment he would have been at a loss to explain. Possibly the assurance he felt, even in the moment of her annoyance, that despite her prejudices she realised, perhaps admitted to herself, that he had a hold upon her which threatened to weaken those carefully fostered antagonisms, was a sufficient satisfaction. He was certain of her interest in himself, and this gave him unbounded pleasure. His reciprocal interest was advancing with amazing rapidity. One soft look from those eyes which held a smile in them would cause him a thrill of happiness such as he had never known before. She excited him. Also her influence set stirring within him the beginning of a new responsibility which had for its ultimate object the complete reconciliation of her people with his own. It was unthinkable that Honor and he should remain enemies. The two races had buried their grievances and become united. But there were factions on both sides which remained outside the Union. He hated to think of Honor placed in one of these camps of irreconcilables. She was altogether too fine for that company. That sort of thing, racial jealousy, was what the undereducated man and woman mistook for patriotism. It is the lowest intelligences which keep alive the sense of injury.
While these new thoughts were shaping themselves in his mind, another idea presented itself which seemed to open out a way to some sort of an understanding. The solution lay with Herman Nel—the Boer who did not hate the English, and wrangled with his brother on the strength of his convictions. He must talk with Herman Nel. From him he might receive much useful information.
When he arrived at this determination they were already within sight of the farm. As they came nearer Honor pointed with her whip to a round cob building with a grass roof, which stood apart from the homestead and the outbuildings, as though, like its owner, it withdrew from what it failed to agree with, maintaining a comfortable isolation on open ground that defied surprise.
“That is the rondavel,” she explained, “which Herman Nel built for himself when his brother married. It’s small, but it is very comfortable. When he marries he will have to enlarge it.”
“Is he thinking of marrying?” Matheson asked.
“Oh, yes. He wants to marry Freidja. But just now they have quarrelled.”
“It would appear that he has a quarrelsome disposition,” Matheson said.
“No.” She smiled ever so faintly. “He is rather like yourself—he exasperates other people.”
“Ah!” He smiled too. “I should like to meet Mr Herman Nel.”