“He crossed the road; he looked back at us; he saw us: I saw his eyes gleaming; and he went into the compound, behind those trees.”
“Darling, I saw nothing, there’s no one there.”
“Yes, there is! Yes, there is! Addie, I daren’t go: oh, do let us go back!”
His handsome Moorish face became overcast; he already saw the door of the little hut opened by the old woman whom he knew, who worshipped him as every woman worshipped him, from his mother to his little nieces.
And he again tried to persuade her, but she refused, stood still, and clung to the ground with her little feet. Then they turned back and the clouds were sultrier, low on the horizon, and the velvety darkness fell more thickly, like warm snow, and the ravelled tjemaras were fuller and blacker than before. The house loomed up before them, sunk in sleep, with not a light showing. And he entreated her, he implored her not to leave him that night, saying that he would die, that night, without her.... Already she was yielding, promising, with her arms around his neck ... when again she started and again cried:
“Addie! Addie!... There he is again!... That white figure!...”
“But you seem to see hadjis everywhere!” he said, banteringly.
“Look for yourself then ... over there!”
He looked, and now really saw a white figure approaching them in the front-verandah. But it was a woman.
“Mamma!” cried Doddie, in dismay.