 Chapter 2 Part 3 of THE STORY OF AN AFRICAN FARM by OLLIV SHRINER Gregory Rose finds his affinity. The new man, Gregory Rose, sat at the door of his dwelling, his arms folded, his legs crossed, and a profound melancholy seeming to rest over his soul. His house was a little square dormant wattle-building, far out in the caroo, two miles from the homestead. It was covered outside with the somber coating of brown mud, two little panes being let into the walls for windows. Behind it were the sheep-crawls, and to the right a large dam now principally containing baked mud. Far off the little copy concealed the homestead, and was not itself an object conspicuous enough to relieve the dreary monotony of the landscape. Before the door sat Gregory Rose in his shirt-sleeves on a camp-stool, and ever an anon he sighed deeply. There was that in his countenance, for which even his depressing circumstances failed to account. Again and again he looked at the little copy, at the milk-pail at his side, the brown pony, who a short way off cropped the dry bushes, and sighed. Presently he rose, and went into his house. It was one tiny room, the white-washed walls profusely covered with prints cut from the illustrated London news, and in which there was a noticeable preponderance of female faces and figures. A stretcher filled one end of the hut, and a rack for a gun and a little hanging-looking glass diversified the gable opposite, while in the centre stood a chair and table. All was scrupulously neat and clean, for Gregory kept a little duster folded in the corner of his table-draw, just as he had seen his mother do, and every morning before he went out he said his prayers and made his bed and dusted the table and the legs of the chairs, and even the pictures on the wall and the gun-rack. On this hot afternoon he took from beneath his pillow a watch-bag made by his sister Jemima and took out the watch. Only half-past four. With a suppressed groan he dropped it back and sat down beside the table. Half-past four. Presently he roused himself. He would write to his sister Jemima. He always wrote to her when he was miserable. She was his safety-valve. He forgot her when he was happy, and used her when he was wretched. He took out ink and paper. There was a family crest and motto on the letter, for the roses since coming to the colony had discovered that they were of distinguished lineage. Old Rose himself, an honest English farmer, knew nothing of his noble descent, but his wife and daughter knew, especially his daughter. There were roses in England who kept a park and dated from the conquest. So the colonial Rose farm became Rose Manor. In remembrance of the ancestral domain and the claim of the roses to noble blood was established, in their own minds at least. Gregory took up one of the white, crusted sheets, but on deeper reflection he determined to take a pink one as more suitable to the state of his feelings. He began, copy alone, Monday afternoon. My dear Jemima. Then he looked up into the little glass opposite. It was a youthful face reflected there with curling, brown beard and hair. But in the dark blue eyes there was a look of languid longing that touched him. He redipped his pen and wrote, When I look up into the little glass that hangs opposite me, I wonder if that changed and sad face. Here he sat still and reflected. It sounded almost as if he might be conceited or unmanly to be looking at his own face in the glass. No, that would not do. So he looked for another pink sheet and began again. Copy alone, Monday afternoon. Dear sister. It is hardly six months since I left you to come to this spot. Yet could you now see me? I know what you would say. I know what mother would say. Can that be our Greg? That thing with the strange look in his eyes? Yes, Jemima, it is your Greg, and the change has been coming to me ever since I came here, but it is greatest since yesterday. You know what sorrows I have passed through, Jemima. How unjustly I was always treated at school, the masters keeping me back and calling me a blockhead. Though, as they themselves allowed, I had the best memory of any boy in the school and could repeat whole books from beginning to end. You know how cruelly father always used me, calling me a noodle and a milk-soap, just because he couldn't understand my fine nature. You know how he has made a farmer of me instead of a minister as I ought to have been. You know it all, Jemima, and how I have borne it all, not as a woman who whines for every touch, but as a man should, in silence. But there are things. There is a thing which the soul longs to pour forth into a kindred ear. Dear sister, have you ever known what it is to keep wanting and wanting and wanting to kiss someone's mouth, and you may not? To touch someone's hand, and you cannot? I am in love, Jemima. The old Dutch woman from whom I hire this place has a little step-daughter, and her name begins with E. She is English. I do not know how her father came to marry a boar woman. It makes me feel so strange to put down that letter that I can hardly go on writing. E. I've loved her ever since I came here. For weeks I have not been able to eat or drink. My very tobacco, when I smoke, has no taste, and I can remain for no more than five minutes in one place, and sometimes feel as though I were rarely going mad. Every evening I go there to fetch my milk, yesterday she gave me some coffee. The spoon fell on the ground. She picked it up. When she gave it to me, her finger touched mine. Jemima, I do not know if I fancied it. I shivered hot, and she shivered too. I thought, it is all right, she will be mine. She loves me. Just then Jemima in came a fellow, a great course-fellow, a German, a ridiculous fellow with curls right down to his shoulders. It makes one sick to look at him. He's only a servant of the boar-womans and a low, vulgar, uneducated thing that's never been to boarding school in his life. He had been to the next farm seeking sheep. When he came in she said, Good evening, Waldo, have some coffee. And she kissed him. All last night I heard of nothing else, but have some coffee, have some coffee. If I went to sleep for a moment, I'd dreamed that her finger was pressing mine. But when I woke with the start I heard her say, Good evening, Waldo, have some coffee. Is this madness? I had not eaten a mouthful to-day. This evening I go and propose to her. If she refuses me, I shall go and kill myself to-morrow. There is a dam of water close by. The sheep will have drunk most of it up, but there's still enough if I tie a stone to my neck. It is a choice between death and madness. I can endure no more. If this should be the last letter you ever get from me, think of me tenderly, and forgive me. Without her life would be a howling wilderness, a long tribulation. She is my affinity, the one love of my youth, of my manhood, my sunshine, my God-given blossom. They never loved who dreamed that they loved once, and who sith, I loved once, not angels whose deep eyes look down through realms of light. Your disconsolate brother on what is, in all probability, the lost and distracted night of his life. Grigory, Nazianzen, Rose. Piers. Tell mother to take care of my pearl studs. I lift them in the wash-stand drawer. Don't let the children get hold of them. Piers. I shall take this letter with me to the farm. If I turn down one corner, you may know I have been accepted. If not, you may know it is all up with your heartbroken brother. G-N-R. Grigory, having finished this letter, read it over with much approval, put it in an envelope, addressed it and sat contemplating the ink-pot, somewhat relieved in mind. The evening turned our Chilean very windy after the day's heat. From afar off, as Grigory neared the homestead on the brown pony, he could distinguish a little figure in a little red cloak at the door of the car-crawl. M. leaned over the poles that barred the gate and watched the frothing milk run through the black fingers of the herdsmen, while the unwilling cows stood with her that heads by the milking poles. She had thrown the red cloak over her own head and held it under her chin with her little hand to keep from her ears the wind that playfully shook it and tossed the little fringe of yellow hair into her eyes. It is not too cold for you to be standing here, said Grigory, coming softly close to her. Oh, no, it's so nice! I always come to watch the milking. That red car with the short horns was bringing up the calf of the white cow that died. She loves it so, just as if it were her own. It's so nice to see her lick its little ears. Just look! The clouds are black. I think it's going to rain tonight, said Grigory. Yes! Answered M., looking up as well as she could for the little yellow fringe. But I'm sure you must be cold, said Grigory, and put his hand under the cloak and found there a small fist doubled up, and very warm. He held it fast in his hand. Oh, M., I love you better than all the world besides. Tell me, do you love me a little? Yes, I do! Said M., hesitating and trying softly to free her hand. Better than everything, better than all the world, darling! He asked, bending down so low that the yellow hair was blown into his eyes. I don't know, said M., gravely. I do love you very much, but I love my cousin who is at school and Waldo very much. You see, I've known them so long. Oh, M., do not talk to me so coldly! Grigory cried, seizing the little arm that rested on the gate and pressing it till she was half afraid. The herdsman had moved away to the other end of the crown now and the cars busy with their calves took no notice of the little human farce. M., if you talk so to me, I will go mad. You must love me. Love me better than all. You must give yourself to me. I have loved you since that first moment when I saw you walking by the stone wall with the jug in your hands. You were made for me, created for me. I will love you till I die. Oh, M., do not be so cold, so cruel to me! He held her arm so tightly that her fingers relaxed their hold and the cloak fluttered down onto the ground and the wind played more roughly than ever with the little yellow head. I do love you very much," she said, but I do not know if I want to marry you. I love you better than Waldo, but I can't tell if I love you better than Lindell if you would let me wait for a week. I think perhaps I could tell you. Gregory picked up the cloak and wrapped it round her. If you could but love me as I love you," he said, but no woman can love as a man can, I will wait till next Saturday. I will not come near you till then. Goodbye. Oh, M., he said, turning again and twining his arm about her and kissing her surprised little mouth. If you are not my wife, I cannot live. I have never loved another woman and I never shall, never, never. You make me afraid," said M. Come, let us go and I will fill your pail. I want no milk. Goodbye. You will not see me again until Saturday. Late that night when everyone else had gone to bed the yellow-haired little woman stood alone in the kitchen. She had come to fill the kettle and the next morning's coffee and now stood before the fire. The warm reflection lit the grave, old womanish little face that was so unusually thoughtful this evening. Better than all the world! Better than everything! He loves me better than everything! She said the words aloud as if they were more easy to believe if she spoke them so. She had given out so much love in her little life and had got none of it back with interest. Now one said, I love you better than all the world. One loved her better than she loved him. How suddenly rich she was! She kept clasping and unclasping her hands. So a beggar feels who falls asleep on the pavement wet and hungry and who wakes in a palace hall with servants and lights and a feast before him. Of course the beggars is only a dream and he wakes from it. And this was real. Gregory had said to her, I will love you as long as I live. She said the words over and over to herself like a song. I will send for him tomorrow and I will tell him how I love him back, she said. But M. needed not to send for him. Gregory discovered on reaching home that Jemima's letter was still in his pocket. And therefore much as he disliked the appearance of vacillation and weakness he was obliged to be at the farmhouse before sunrise to post it. If I see her, Gregory said, I shall only bow to her, she shall see that I am a man one who keeps his word. As to Jemima's letter he had turned down one corner of the page and then turned it back leaving a deep crease. That would show that he was neither accepted nor rejected, but that matters were in an intermediate condition. It was more a poetical way than putting it in plain words. Gregory was barely in time with his letter for Waldo was starting when he reached the homestead and M. was on the doorstep to see him off. When he had given the letter and Waldo had gone Gregory bowed stiffly and prepared to remount his own pony, but somewhat slowly. It was still early. None of the servants were about. M. came close up to him and put her little hand softly on his arm as he stood by his horse. I do love you best of all, she said. She was not frightened now or ever much he kissed her. I wish I was beautiful and nice, she added looking up into his eyes as he held her against his breast. My darling, to me you are more beautiful than all the women in the world. Deerer to me than everything it holds. If you were in hell I would go after you to find you there. If you were dead, though my body moved my soul would be under the ground with you. All life as I pass it with you in my arms will be perfect to me. It will pass, pass like a ray of sunshine. M. thought how beautiful and grand his face was as she looked up into it. She raised her hand gently and put it on his forehead. You are so silent, so cold, my M. He cried, have you nothing to say to me? A little shadow of wonder filled her eyes. I will do everything you tell me," she said. What else could she say? Her idea of love was only service. Then my own precious one promised never to kiss that fellow again. I cannot bear that you should love anyone but me. You must not. I will not have it. If every relation I had in the world were to die tomorrow I would be quite happy if I still only had you. My darling, my love, why are you so cold? Promise me not to love him any more. If you asked me to do anything for you I would do it, though it cost my life. M. put her hand very gravely round his neck. I will never kiss him," she said. And I will try not to love anyone else, but I do not know if I'll be able. Oh, my darling, I think of you all night, all day I think of nothing else, love, nothing else," he said, folding his arms about her. M. was a little conscious-stricken. Even that morning she had found time to remember that in six months her cousin would come back from school. And she had thought to remind Waldo of the lozenges for his cough, even when she saw Gregory coming. I do not know how it is," she said, humbly nestling to him. But I cannot love you so much as you love me. Perhaps it is because I am only a woman. But I do love you as much as I can. Now the calfomades were coming from the huts. He kissed her again, eyes and mouth and hands, and left her. Tant Sunny was well satisfied when told of the betrothement. She herself contemplated marriage within the year with one or other of her numerous frayers. And she suggested that the weddings might take place together. M. set to work busily to prepare her own household linen and wedding garments. Gregory was with her daily, almost hourly, and the six months which elapsed before Lindl's return passed, as he felicitously phrased it, like a summer night when you are dreaming of someone new love. Late one evening Gregory sat by his little love, turning the handle of her machine as she drew her work through it, and they talked of the changes they would make when the boar woman was gone and the farm belonged to them alone. There should be a new room here and a crawl there. So they chatted on. Suddenly Gregory dropped the handle and impressed a fervent kiss on the fat hand that guided the linen. You are so beautiful, M. said the lover. It comes over me in a flood suddenly. How I love you! M. smiled. Tant Sunny says when I am her age no one will look at me and it's true. My hands are as short and broad as a duck's foot, and my furrowed is so low and I haven't any nose. I can't be pretty. She laughed softly. It was so nice to think he should be so blind. When my cousin comes to-morrow you will see a beautiful woman, Gregory, she added presently. She is like a little queen. Her shoulders are so upright and her head looks as though it ought to have a little crown upon it. You must come to see her to-morrow as soon as she comes. I am sure you will love her. Of course I shall come to see her, since she is your cousin. But do you think I could ever think any woman as lovely as I think you? He fixed his seething eyes upon her. You could not help seeing that she is prettier," said M., slipping her right hand into his. But you will never be able to like anyone so much as you like me. Afterwards, when she wished her love a good night, she stood upon the doorstep to call a greeting after him, and she waited as she always did till the brown pony's hooves became inaudible behind the copy. Then she passed through the room where Tant Sunny lay snoring, and through the little room that was all draped in white waiting for her cousin's return, on to her own room. She went to the chist of drawers to put away the work she had finished and sat down on the floor before the lowest drawer. In it were things she was preparing for her marriage. Piles of white linen and some aprons and quilts, and in the little box in the corner a spray of orange blossom which she had brought from a smearth. There, too, was a ring Gregory had given her, and a veil his sister had sent, and there was a little roll of fine embroidered work which Trana had given her. It was too fine and good even for Gregory's wife. Just right for something very small and soft, she would keep it, and she touched it gently with her forefinger smiling, and then she blushed and hid it far behind the other things. She knew so well all that was in that drawer, and yet she turned them all over as though she saw them for the first time, packed them all out, and packed them all in without one fold or crumple, and then sat down and looked at them. Tomorrow evening, when Lindell came, she would bring her here and show her it all. Lindell would so like to see it, the little wreath, and the ring, and the white veil. It would be so nice. Then M. fell to seeing pictures. Lindell should live with them till she got herself married some day. Every day when Gregory came home, tired from his work, he would look about and say, Where is my wife? Has no one seen my wife? Wife! Some coffee." And she would give him some. M's little face grew very grave at last, and she knelt up and extended her hands over the drawer of the linen. Oh, God! she said. I am so glad. I do not know what I have done that I should be so glad. Thank you. End of Chapter 2 Part 3 Chapter 2 Part 4 of the story of an African farm by Olive Shreiner. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, read by Sally McConnell in Betty's Bay, South Africa, in March 2010. Lindell. She was more like a princess, yes, far more like a princess, than the lady who still hung on the wall in Tansani's bedroom, so M. thought. She leaned back in the little armchair. She wore a grey dressing-gown, and her long hair was curmed out and hung to the ground. M, sitting before her, looked up with mingled respect and admiration. Lindell was tired after her long journey and had come to her room early. Her eyes ran over the familiar objects. Strange to go away for four years and come back and find that the candle standing on the dressing-table still cast the shadow of an old crone's head in the corner beyond the clothes-force. Strange that even a shadow should last longer than man. She looked about among the old familiar objects, all was there, but the old self was gone. What are you noticing? asked M. Nothing and everything. I thought the windows were higher. If I were you when I get this place, I should raise the walls. There's not room to breathe here. One suffocates. Gregory's going to make many alterations, said M. And drawing nearer to the grey dressing-gown respectfully, do you like him, Lindell? Is he not handsome? He must have been a fine baby, said Lindell, looking at the white dimity curtain that hung above the window. M was puzzled. There are some men, said Lindell, whom you never can believe were babies at all, and others you never see without thinking how very nice they must have looked when they wore socks and pink sashes. M remained silent. Then she said with a little dignity, When you know him you will love him as I do. When I compare other people with him they seem so weak and little. Our hearts are so cold, our loves are mixed up with so many other things. But he—no one is worthy of his love. I am not. He is so great and pure. You need not make yourself unhappy on that point. Your poor return for his love, my dear," said Lindell. A man's love is a fire of olive wood. It leaps higher every moment. It roars, it blazes, it shoots out red flames. It threatens to wrap you round and devour you, you who stand by like an icicle in the glow of its fierce warmth. You are self-reproached at your own chilliness and want of reciprocity. The next day, when you go to warm your little hands a little, you find a few ashes. It is a long love and cool against a short love and hot. Men, at all events, have nothing to complain of. You speak so because you do not know men. Said M, instantly assuming the dignity of superior knowledge, so universally affected by a fiancée than married women in discussing man's nature with their uncontracted sisters. You will know them, too, some day, and then you will think differently," said M, with the condescending magnanimity which superior knowledge can always afford to show to ignorance. Lindell's little lip quivered in a manner indicative of intense amusement. She twirled a massive ring upon her forefinger, a ring more suitable for the hand of a man noticeable in design. A diamond cross let into gold with the initials R-R below it. Ah, Lindell! cried M. Perhaps you are engaged yourself. That is why you smile. Yes, I'm sure you are. Look at this ring! Lindell drew the hand quickly from her. I am not in so great a hurry to put my neck beneath any man's foot, and I do not so greatly admire the crying of babies. She was a little bit ashamed as she closed her eyes half warily and leaned back in the chair. There are other women glad of such work. M felt rebuked and ashamed. How could she take Lindell and show her the white linen and the wreath and the embroidery? She was quiet for a little while and then began to talk about Tron and the old farm servants till she saw her companion was wary. Then she rose and left her for the night. One Lindell sat on, watching the old crone's face in the corner and with a wary look as though the whole world's weight rested on these frail young shoulders. The next morning, Wolder, starting off before breakfast with a bag of mealy's slung over his shoulder to feed the ostriches, heard a light step behind him. Wait for me! I'm coming with you! said Lindell, adding as she came up to him, if I had not gone to look for you yesterday you would not have come to greet me till now. You're not like me any longer, Wolder. Yes, but you are changed. It was the old clumsy, hesitating mode of speech. You lack the pinniforce better, she said quickly. She wore a dress of a simple cotton fabric, but very fashionably made, and on her head was a broad white hat. To Wolder she seemed superbly attired. She saw it. The dress has changed a little, she said, and I also, but not to you. Hang the bag over your other shoulder that I may see your face. You say so little that if one does not look at you you are an uncomprehended cipher. Wolder changed the bag and they walked on side by side. You have improved, she said. Do you know that I have sometimes wished to see you while I was away? Not often, but still sometimes. They were at the gate of the first camp now. Wolder threw over a bag of meelies and they walked on over the dewy ground. Have you learnt much? He asked her simply remembering how she had once said, when I come back again I shall know everything that a human being can. She laughed. Are you thinking of my old boast? Yes, I've learnt something, though hardly what I expected, and not quite so much. In the first place I've learnt that one of my ancestors must have been a very great fool, for they say nothing comes out in a man but one of his forefathers possessed it before him. In the second place I've discovered that of all cursed places under the sun where the hungriest soul can hardly pick up a few grains of knowledge a girl's boarding school is the worst. They are called finishing schools and the name tells accurately what they are. They finish everything but imbecility and weakness and that they cultivate. They are nicely adapted machines for experimenting on the question into how little space a human soul can be crushed. I have seen some souls so compressed that they would have fitted into a small thimble and found room to move there, wide room. A woman who has been for many years at one of those places carries the mark of the beast on her till she dies though she may expand a little afterwards when she breathes in the free world. Were you miserable? He asked looking at her with quick anxiety. I? No. I'm never miserable and never happy. I wish I were. But I should have run away from the place on the fourth day and hired myself to the first boar woman whose farm I came to to make fire under her soap-pot if I had to live as the rest of the drove did. Can you form an idea, Waldo, of what it must be to be shut up with cackling old women who are without knowledge of life, without love of the beautiful, without strength to have your soul cultured by them? It is suffocation only to breathe the air they breathe. But I made them give me a room. I told them I should leave and they knew I came there on my own account. So they gave me a bedroom without the companionship of one of those things that were having their brains slowly diluted and squeezed out of them. I did not learn music because I had no talent. And when the drove made cushions and hideous flowers that the roses laugh at and a footstool in six weeks that a machine would have made better in five minutes, I went to my room. With the money saved from such work I bought books and newspapers and at night I sat up. I read and epitomised what I read. And I found time to write some plays and find out how hard it is to make your thoughts imbecile fools when you paint them with ink on paper. In the holidays I learnt a great deal more. I made acquaintances, saw a few places and many people and some different ways of living which is more than any books can show one. On the whole I am not dissatisfied with my four years. I have not learnt what I expected but I have learnt something else. What have you been doing? Nothing. That is not possible. I shall find out by and by. They still stepped on side by side over the dewy bushes. Then suddenly she turned to him. Don't you wish you were a woman, Aldo? No, he said readily. She laughed. I thought not. Even you are too worldly wise for that. I never met a man who did. This is a pretty ring, she said holding out her little hand that the morning sun might make the diamonds sparkle. Worth fifty pounds at least. I will give it to the first man who tells me he would like to be a woman. There might be one on Robin Island. Footnote. Lunatics of the Cape are sent to Robin Island. Who would win it perhaps, but I doubt it even there. It is delightful to be a woman, but every man thanks the Lord divinely that he isn't one. She drew her hat to one side to keep the sun out of her eyes as she walked. Aldo looked at her so intently that he stumbled over the bushes. Yes, this was his little lindle who had warned Czech pineafors. He saw it now, and he walked closer beside her. They reached the next camp. Let us wait at this camp and watch the birds. She said as an ostrich hen came bounding towards them with velvety wings outstretched. While far away over the bushes the head of the cock was visible as he sat brooding on the eggs. Lindle folded her arms on the gate-bar and Aldo threw his empty bag on the wall and lent beside her. I like these birds, she said. They share each other's work and are companions. Do you take an interest in the position of women, Aldo? No. I thought not, no one does, unless they're in need of a subject upon which to show their wit. And as for you, from of old you can see nothing that is not separated from you by a few millions of miles and strewed over with mystery. If women were the inhabitants of Jupiter, of whom you had happened to hear something, you would pour over us and our condition night and day. But because we are before your eyes, you never look at us. You care nothing that this is ragged and ugly," she said, putting her little finger on his sleeve. But you strive mightily to make an imaginary leaf on an old stick, beautiful. I'm sorry you don't care for the position of women. I should have liked us to be friends, and it is the only thing about which I think much or feel much. If indeed I have any feeling about anything," she added, flippantly readjusting her dainty little arms. When I was a baby I fancy my parents left me out in the frost one night, and I got nipped internally. It feels so. I have only a few old thoughts, he said, and I think them over and over again, always beginning where I left off I never get any further. I'm wary of them. Like an old hen that sits on its eggs month after month and they never come out," she said quickly. I am so pressed in upon by new things that lest they should trip one another up I have to keep forcing them back. My head swings sometimes. But this one thought stands, never goes, if I might be one of those born in the future, then perhaps to be born a woman will not be to be born branded. Woldo looked at her. It was hard to say whether she were in earnest or mocking. I know it is foolish. Wisdom never kicks at the iron walls it can't bring down," she said. But we are cursed, Woldo, born cursed from the time our mothers bring us into the world till the shards are put on us. Do not look at me as though I were talking nonsense. Everything has two sides, the outside that is ridiculous and the inside that is solemn. I am not laughing," said the boy sedately enough. But what curses you? He thought she would not reply to him, she waited so long. It is not what is done to us but what is made of us, she said at last, that wrongs us. No man can be rarely injured but by what modifies himself. We all enter the world little plastic beings with so much natural force perhaps but for the rest blank. And the world tells us what we are to be and shapes us by the end it sits before us. To you it says work and to us it says seam. To you it says, as you approximate to man's highest ideal of God, as your arm is strong and your knowledge great and the power to labour is with you, so you shall gain all that human heart desires. To us it says, strength shall not help you, nor knowledge, nor labour. You shall gain what men gain but by other means. And so the world makes men and women. Look at this little chin of mine Waldo with the dimple in it. It is but a small part of my person. But though I had a knowledge of all things under the sun and the wisdom to use it and the deep loving heart of an angel, it stared me through life like this little chin. I can win money with it. I can win love. I can win power with it. I can win fame. What would knowledge help me? The less a woman has in her head the lighter she is for climbing. I once heard an old man say that he never saw intellect help a woman so much as a pretty ankle. And it was the truth. They begin to shape us to our cursed end, he said, with her lips drawn in to look as though they smiled when we were tiny things in shoes and socks. We sit with our little feet drawn up under us in the window and look out at the boys in their happy play. We want to go. Then a loving hand is laid on us. Little one you cannot go, they say. Your face will burn and your nice white dress be spoiled. We feel it must be for our good it is so lovingly said but we cannot understand. We feel still with one little cheek wistfully pressed against the pain. Afterwards we go and thread blue beads and make a string for our neck and we go and stand before the glass. We see the complexion we are not to spoil and the white frock and we look into our own great eyes. Then the curse begins to act on us. It finishes its work when we are grown women who no more look out wistfully at a more healthy life. We are contented. We fit our sphere as a Chinese woman's foot fits her shoe exactly as though God had made both and yet he knows nothing of either. In some of us the shaping to our end has been quite completed. The parts we are not to use have been quite atrophied and have even dropped off but in others and we are not less to be pitied they have been weakened and left. We wear the bandages but our limbs have not grown to them. We know that we are compressed and chafe against them. But what does it help? A little bitterness a little longing when we were young a little futile searching for work a little passionate striving for room for the exercise of our powers and then we go with the drove a woman must march with her regiment in the end she must be trodden down or go with it and if she is wise she goes I see in your great eyes what you are thinking at him I always know what the person I am talking to is thinking of how is this woman who makes such a fuss worse off than I I will show you a very little example we stand here at this gate this morning both poor both young both friendless there is not much to choose between us let us turn away just as we are to make our way in life this evening you will come to a farmer's house the farmer albeit you come alone and on foot will give you a pipe tobacco and a cup of coffee and a bed if he has no dam to build and no child to teach tomorrow you can go on your way with a friendly greeting of the hand I if I come to the same place tonight will have strange questions asked me strange glances cast on me the boar wife will shake her head and give me food to eat with the caffers and a right to sleep with the dogs that would be the first step in our progress very little one but every step to the end would repeat it we were equals once when we were new born babes on our nurses knees we will be equals again when they tie up our jaws for the last sleep Waldo looked in wonder at the little quivering face it was a glimpse into the world of passion and feeling wholly new to him mark you she said we always have this advantage over you we can at any time step to ease and competence where you must labor patiently for it a little weeping a little weadling a little self degradation a little careful use of our advantages and then some man will say come be my wife with good looks on youth marriage is easy to attain there are men enough but a woman who has sold herself even for a ring and a new name need hold her skirt aside for no treat they both earn their bread in one way marriage for love is the beautifulest external symbol of the union of souls marriage without it is the uncleanest traffic that defies the world she ran her little finger savagely along the topmost bar shaking off the dozen little dew drops that still hung there and they tell us we have men's chivalrous attention lawyers, lawmakers, anything but ill-paid drudges they say no but you have men's chivalrous attention now think of that and be satisfied what would you do without it the bitter little silvery laugh so seldom heard rang out across the bushes she bit her little teeth together I was coming up in cobbin coves the other day at a little wayside hotel we had to change the large coach we were ten passengers eight men and two women as I sat in the house the gentleman came and whispered to me there is not room for all in the new coach take your seat quickly we hurried out and they gave me the best seat and covered me with rugs because it was drizzling then the last passenger came running up to the coach an old woman with a wonderful bonnet and a black shawl pinned with the yellow pin there is no room they said just wait till next week's coach takes you up but she climbed onto the stiff and held on at the window with both hands my son-in-law is ill and I must go and see him she said my good woman said one I am really exceedingly sorry that your son-in-law is ill but there is absolutely no room for you here you had better get down said another or the wheel will catch you I got up to give her my place oh no no they cried we will not allow that I will rather kneel said one and he crouched down at my feet so the woman came in there were nine of us in that coach and only one shared chivalrous attention and that was a woman to a woman I shall be old and ugly too one day and I shall look for men's chivalrous help but I shall not find it the bees are very attentive to the flowers till their honey is done and then they fly over them I don't know if the flowers feel grateful to the bees they are great fools if they do but some women said Waldo speaking as though the words forced themselves from him at that moment some women have power she lifted her beautiful eyes to his face power did you ever hear of men being asked whether other souls should have power or not it is born in them you may dam up the fountain of water and make it a stagnant marsh or you may let it run free and do its work but you cannot say whether it shall be there it is there and it will act if not openly for good then covertly for evil but it will act if Goethe had been stolen away a child and reared in a rubber-hoard in the depths of a German forest do you think the world would have had fast and effigyny but he would have been Goethe still stronger, wiser than his fellows at night around their watch fire he would have chanted wild songs of rapine and murder till the dark faces about him were moved and trembled his songs would have echoed on from father to son and nerved the heart and arm for evil do you think if Napoleon had been born a woman that he would have been contented to give small tea-parties and talk small scandal he would have risen but the world would not have heard of him as it hears of him now a man, great and kingly with all his sins is one of those names that stay in the leaf of every history the names of women who, having power but being denied the right to exercise it openly rule in the dark covertly and by stealth through the men whose passions they feed on and by whom they climb power she said suddenly smiting her little hand upon the rail yes we have power and since we are not too expended in tunnelling mountains nor healing diseases nor making laws nor money nor on any extraneous object we expend it on you you are our goods our merchandise our material for operating on we buy you we sell you we make fools of you we act the wily old Jew with you we keep six of you crawling to our little feet and praying only for a touch of our little hand and they say truly there was never an ache or a pain no art but a woman was at the bottom of it we are not to study law nor science nor art so we study you there is never a nerve or fibre in your man's nature but we know it we keep six of you dancing in the palm of one little hand she said balancing her outstretched arm gracefully as though tiny beings disported themselves in its palm there we throw you away to the devil she said folding her arms composedly there was never a man who said one word for woman but he said two for man and three for the whole human race she watched the bird picking up the last yellow grains but Waldo looked only at her when she spoke again it was very measuredly they bring weighty arguments against us when we ask for the perfect freedom of woman she said but when you come to the objections they are like pumpkin devils with candles inside hollow and can't bite they say that women do not wish for the sphere and freedom we ask for them and would not use it if the bird does like the cage and does like its sugar and will not leave it why keep the door so very carefully shut why not open it only a little would not break its wings against the bars but would fly if the doors were open she knit her forehead and leaned further over the bars then they say if the women have the liberty you ask for they will be found in positions for which they are not fitted if two men climb one ladder did you ever see the weakest anywhere but at the foot the surest sign of fitness is success the weakest never wins but where there is handicapping nature left to herself as beautifully a portion of man's work to his capacities as long ages ago she graduated the colours on the bird's breast if we are not fit you give us to no purpose the right to labour the work will fall out of our hands into those that are wiser she talked more rapidly as she went on as one talks of that over which they have brooded long and which lies near their hearts Waldo watched her intently they say women have one great and noble work lift them and they do it ill that is true they do it excrably it is the work that demands the broadest culture and they have not even the narrowest the lawyer may see no deeper than his law books and the chemist see no further than the windows of his laboratory and they may do their work well but the woman who does woman's work needs a many-sided multi-form culture the heights and depths of human life must not be beyond the reach of her vision she must have knowledge of men and things in many states a wide catholicity of sympathy the strength that springs from knowledge and the magnanimity which springs from strength we bear the world and we make it the souls of little children are marvellously delicate and tender things and keep forever the shadow that first falls on them and that is the mother's or at best a woman's there was never a great man who had not a great mother it is hardly an exaggeration the first six years of our life we make us all that is added later is veneer and yet some say if a woman can cook a dinner or dress herself well she has culture enough the mightiest and noblest of human work is given to us and we do it ill send a navi to work into an artist's studio and see what you will find there and yet thank God we have this work she added quickly it is the one window through which we see into the great world of earnest labour the meanest girl and the most handsome and dresser's become something higher when her children look up into her face and ask her questions it is the only education we have and which they cannot take from us she smiled slightly they say that we complain of women's being compelled to look upon marriage as a profession but that she is free to enter upon it or leave it as she pleases yes and a cat sit afloat and a pond is free to sit in the tub till it dies there it is an obligation to wet its feet and a drowning man may catch at a straw or not just as he likes it is a glorious liberty let any man think for five minutes of what old maidenhood means to a woman and then let him be silent is it easy to bear through life a name that in itself signifies defeat to dwell as nine out of ten unmarried women must under the finger of another woman is it easy to look forward to an old age without honour without the reward of useful labour without love I wonder how many men there are who would give up everything that is dear in life for the sake of maintaining a high ideal purity she laughed a little laugh that was clear without being pleasant and then when they have no other argument against us they say go on but when you have made women what you wish and her children inherit her culture you will defeat yourself man will gradually become extinct from excessive intellect the passions which replenish the race will die fools she said curling her pretty lip Odentot sits at the roadside and feeds on a rotten bone he has found there and takes out his bottle of capes smoke and swills at it and grunts with satisfaction and the cultured child of the 19th century sits in his armchair and sips choice wines with the lip of a connoisseur and tastes delicate dishes with a delicate palate and with a satisfaction of which the Odentot knows nothing heavy draw and sloping forehead all have gone with increasing intellect but the animal appetites are there still refined, discriminative but immeasurably intensified fools before men forgave or worshipped while they were still weak on their hind legs did they not eat and fight for wives when all the later additions to humanity have vanished will not the foundation on which they are built remain she was silent then for a while and said somewhat dreamily more as though speaking to herself and to him they ask what will you gain even if man does not become extinct you will have brought justice and equality onto the earth and sent love from it when men and women are equals they will love no more your highly cultured women will not be lovable will not love do they see nothing understand nothing it is Tant Sunny who buries husbands one after another and folds her hands resignedly the Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away and blessed be the name of the Lord and she looks for another it is the hard headed deep thinker who when the wife who has thought and goes can find no rest and lingers near her till he finds sleep beside her a great soul draws and is drawn with more fierce intensity than any small one by every inch we grow in intellectual height our love strikes down its roots deeper and spreads out its arms wider it is for love's sake yet more than for any other that we look for that new time she had leaned ahead against the stones and watched with her sad soft eyes the retreating bird then when that time comes she said slowly when love is no more bought or sold when it is not a means of making bread when each woman's life is filled with earnest independent labour then love will come to her a strange sudden sweetness breaking in upon her earnest work not thoughtful but farmed then but not now Waldo waited for her to finish the sentence but she seemed to have forgotten him lindle he said putting his hand upon her she started if you think that that new time will be so great so good you who speak so easily she interrupted him speak speak she said the difficulty is not to speak the difficulty is to keep silence but why do you not try to bring that time he said with pitiful simplicity when you speak I believe all you say other people would listen to you also I'm not so sure of that she said with a smile then over the small face came the weary looker at war last night as it watched the shadow in the corner ah so weary I Waldo I she said I will do nothing good for myself nothing for the world till someone wakes me I am asleep swathed shut up in self till I have been delivered I will deliver no one he looked at her wondering but she was not looking at him to see the good and the beautiful she said and to have no strength to live it she said it would be better not to see it come she said looking up into his face and seeing its uncomprehending expression let's go it's getting late Doss is anxious for his breakfast also she added wheeling round and calling to the dog who was endeavouring to unearth a mole an occupation to which he had been zealously addicted from the third month but in which he had never found any single occasion proved successful Waldo shouldered his bag and Lundle walked on before in silence with the dog close to her side perhaps she thought of the narrowness of the limits within which a soul may speak and be understood by its nearest of mental kin of how soon it reaches that solitary land of the individual experience in which no fellow footfall is ever heard whatever her thoughts may have been she was soon interrupted Waldo came close to her and standing still produced with awkwardness from his breast pocket a small carved box I made it for you he said holding it out I like it she said examining it carefully the workmanship was better than that of the grave post the flowers that covered it were delicate and here and there small conical protuberances were let in among them she turned it round critically Waldo bent over it lovingly there is one strange thing about it he said earnestly putting a finger on one little pyramid I made it without these and I felt something was wrong I tried many changes and at last I let these in and then it was right but why was it they are not beautiful in themselves they relieve the monotony of the smooth leaves I suppose he shook his head as over a weighty matter the sky is monotonous he said when it's blue and yet it is beautiful I have thought of that often but it is not monotony and it is not variety makes beauty what is it the sky and your face and this box the same thing is in the more only more in the sky and in your face but what is it she smiled so you are at your old work still why why what is the reason it is enough for me she said if I find out what is beautiful and what is ugly what is real and what is not why it is there and over the final cause of things in general I don't trouble myself there must be one but what is it to me if I howl to all eternity I shall never get hold of it and if I did I might be no better off but you Germans are born with an aptitude for burrowing you can't help yourselves you must sniff after reasons just as that dog must after a mole he knows perfectly will he'll never catch it but he's under the imperative necessity of digging for it but he might find it might but he never has and never will life is too short to run off to mites we must have certainties she tucked the box under her arm and was about to walk on when Gregory rose with shining spurs an ostrich feather in his hat and a silver-headed whip careered past he bowed gallantly as he went by they waited till the dust of the horse's hooves had laid itself there said lindl goes a true woman one born for the sphere women have to fill without being born for it how happy he would be sewing thrills into his little girl's frocks and how pretty he would look sitting in the parlour with a rough man making love to him don't you think so I shall not stay here when he is master Waldo answered not able to connect any kind of beauty with Gregory rose I should imagine not the rule of a woman is tyranny but the rule of a man-woman grinds fine where are you going anywhere what to do see see everything you will be disappointed and were you yes and you will be more so I want some things that men in the world give you do not if you have a few yards of earth to stand on and a bit of blue over you and something that you cannot see to dream about you will have all that you need all that you know how to use but I like to see real men let them be as disagreeable as they please they are more interesting to me than flowers or trees or stars or any other thing under the sun sometimes she added walking on and shaking the dust dentally from her skirts when I'm not too busy to find a new way of doing my hair that will show my little neck to better advantage or over other work of that kind sometimes it amuses me intensely to trace out the resemblance between one man and another to see how Tunt Sunny and I, you and Burnapot since Simon on his pillar and the emperor dining off Locke's tongues are one and the same compound merely mixed in different proportions what is microscopic in one is largely developed in another what is rudimentary in one man is an act of organ in another but all things are in all men and one soul is the model of all we shall find nothing new in human nature after we have once carefully dissected and analysed the one being we ever shall truly know, ourself the cafe girl threw some coffee on my arm in bed this morning I felt displeased but said nothing Tunt Sunny would have thrown the saucer at her and sworn for an hour but the feeling would have been the same irritated displeasure if a huge animated stomach like Burnapot were put under a glass by a skillful mental microscopic even he would be found to have an embryonic doubling somewhere indicative of a heart and rudimentary buddings that might have become conscience and sincerity let me take your arm Waldo how full are you of mealy dust no never mind I will brush it off and sometimes what is more amusing still than tracing the likeness between man and woman is to trace the analogy what always is between the progress and development of one individual and of a whole nation or again between a single nation and the entire human race it is pleasant when it dawns on you that the one is just the other written out in large letters and very odd to find all the little follies and virtues and developments and retrogressions written out in the big world's book that you find in your internal self it is the most amusing thing I know of but of course being a woman I have not often time for such amusements professional duties always first you know it takes a great deal of time and thought always to look perfectly exquisite even for a pretty woman is the old buggy still in existence Waldo yes but the harness is broken well I wish you would mend it you must teach me to drive I must learn something while I'm here I got the hot and taut girl to show me how to make societies this morning I was going to teach me to make cuppies I will come and sit with you this afternoon while you mend the harness thank you no don't thank me for I come for my own pleasure I never find anyone I can talk to women bore me and men I talk so too going to the ball this evening nice little dog that of yours pretty little ears so fond of point of pups and they find me fascinating charming men are like the earth and we are the moon we turn always one side to them and they think there is no other because they don't see it but there is they had reached the house now tell me when you set to work she said and walked towards the door Waldo stood to look after her and Doss stood at his side a look of painful uncertainty depicted on his small countenance and one little foot poised in the air should he stay with his master or go he looked at the figure with the wide straw hat moving towards the house and he looked up at his master then he put down the little paw and went Waldo watched them both in at the door and then walked away alone he was satisfied that at least his dog was with her end of chapter 2 part 4 chapter 2 part 5 of the story of an African farm by Olive Shreiner this Librivox recording is in the public domain read by Sally McConnell in Betty's Bay South Africa in March 2010 Tunt Sunny holds an up-sitting and Gregory writes a letter it was just after sunset and Lundle had not yet returned from her first driving listen when the lean colored woman standing at the corner of the house to enjoy the evening breeze saw coming along the road a strange horseman very narrowly she surveyed him as slowly he approached the deepest morning the black crepe around his tall hat totally concealing the black felt and nothing but a dazzling shirt front relieving the funereal tone of his attire he rode much forward in his saddle with his chin resting on the uppermost of his shirt studs and there was an air of meek subjection to the will of heaven and to what might be in store for him that bespoke itself even in the way in which he gently urged his steed he was evidently in no hurry to reach his destination for the nearer he approached to it the slacker did his bridle hang the colored woman having duly inspected him dashed into the dwelling here is another one she cried a widower I see it by his hat good lord said Tunt Sunny it's the seventh I've had this month but the men know where sheep and good looks and money in the bank to be found she added winking knowingly how does he look 19 weak eyes white hair little round nose said the maid then it is he then it is he said Tunt Sunny triumphantly little Pete from the vault whose wife died last month two farms 12,000 sheep I've not seen him but my sister in law told me about him and I dreamed him last night here Pete's black hat appeared in the doorway and the bore woman drew herself up in dignified silence extended the tips of her fingers and motioned solemnly to a chair the young man seated himself sticking his feet as far under it as they would go and said mildly I am little Pete van der Waalt and my father is big Pete van der Waalt Tunt Sunny said solemnly yes said the young man starting up spasmodically can I offset oh yes he seized his hat and disappeared with a rush through the door I told you so I need said Tunt Sunny the dear Lord doesn't send dreams for nothing didn't I tell you this morning that I dreamed of a great beast like a sheep with red eyes and I killed it what on the white wool his hair and the red eyes his weak eyes and my killing him meant marriage get supper ready quickly the sheep's inside and the roaster cakes we shall sit up tonight to young Pete van der Waalt that supper was a period of intense torture there was something over owing in that assembly of English people with the incomprehensible speech and moreover it was his first courtship his first wife had courted him and ten months of severe domestic gruel had not raised his spirit nor courage he ate little and when he raised a morsel to his lips glanced, guiltily round to see if he were not observed he had put three rings on his little finger with the intention of sticking it out stiffly when he raised a coffee cup now the little finger was curled miserably amongst its fellows it was small relief when the meal was over and Tunt Sunny and he repaired to the front room his knees close together stood his black hat upon them and wretchedly turned the brim up and down but supper had chaired Tunt Sunny who found it impossible longer to maintain that decorous silence and whose heart yearned over the youth I was related to your aunt Selena who died, said Tunt Sunny my mother's step-brother's child was married to her father's brother's step-nephew's niece yes aunt, said the young man I knew we were related it was her cousin said Tunt Sunny now fairly on the flow who had a cancer cut out of her breast by the other doctor who was not the right doctor they sent for but who did it quite as well yes aunt, said the young man I've heard about it often said Tunt Sunny and he was the son of the old doctor that they say died on Christmas day but I don't know if that's true people do tell such awful lies why should he die on Christmas day more than any other day yes aunt why said the young man Meekly did you ever have the tooth egg asked Tunt Sunny no aunt well they say that doctor not the son of the old doctor that died on Christmas day the other that didn't come when he was sent for he gave such good stuff for the tooth egg that if you opened the bottle in the room where anyone was bad they got better directly you could see it was good stuff said Tunt Sunny a tasted horrid that was a real doctor he used to give a bottle so high said the bald woman raising her hand a foot from the table you could drink at it for a month and it wouldn't get done medicine was good for all sorts of sicknesses croop, measles, jaundice dropsy now you have to buy a new kind for each sickness the doctors aren't so good as they used to be no aunt said the young man who was trying to gain courage to stick out his legs and clink his spurs together he did so at last Tunt Sunny had noticed the spurs before but she thought it showed a nice manly spirit and her heart warmed yet more to the youth did you ever have convulsions when you were a baby asked Tunt Sunny yes strange said Tunt Sunny I had convulsions too wonderful that we should be so much alike aunt said the young man explosively can we sit up to-night Tunt Sunny hung her head in her eyes but finding that her little wiles were thrown away the young man stared fixedly at his hat she simpered yes and went away to fetch candles in the dining room M worked at her machine and Gregory sat close beside her his great blue eyes turned to the window where Lindell leaned out talking to Waldo Tunt Sunny took two candles out of the cupboard and held them up triumphantly winking all round the room she said does he want them for his horses rubbed back asked Gregory new to up-country life no said Tunt Sunny indignantly we're going to set up and she walked off in triumph with the candles nevertheless when all the rest of the house had retired when the long candle was lighted when the coffee kettle was filled when she sat in the window chair with her lover on a chair close beside her and when the vigil of the night was fairly begun she began to find it wearysome the young man looked chilly and said nothing won't you put your feet on my stove said Tunt Sunny no thank you aunt said the young man and both lapsed into silence at last Tunt Sunny, afraid of going to sleep tapped a strong cup of coffee for herself and handed another to her lover this visibly revived both how long were you married cousin ten months aunt how old was your baby three days when it died it's very hard when we must give our husbands and wives to the lord said Tunt Sunny very said the young man but it's the lord's will yes said Tunt Sunny inside she was such a good wife aunt I've known her break a churn stick over her maid's head for only letting dust come on a milk cloth Tunt Sunny felt a twinge of jealousy she had never broken a churn stick on a maid's head I hope your life made a good end she said oh beautiful aunt she said up a psalm and two hymns and a half before she died did she leave any messages asked Tunt Sunny no said the young man but the night before she died I was lying at the foot of her bed I felt her foot kick me Pete she said any my heart said I my little baby that died yesterday has been here and it stood over the wagon box she said what did it say I asked it said that if I died you must marry a fat woman I will I said and I went to sleep again presently she woke me the little baby has been here again and it says you must marry a woman over 30 who's had two husbands I didn't go to sleep after that for a long time aunt but when I did she woke me the baby has been here again she said and it said you mustn't marry a woman with a mole I told her I wouldn't and the next day she died that was a vision from the redeemer said Tunt Sunny the young man nodded his head mournfully he thought of a younger sister of his wife's who was not fat and who had a mole and of whom his wife had always been jealous and he wished the little baby had liked better staying in heaven than coming and standing over the wagon chest I suppose that's why you came to see me said Tunt Sunny yes aunt and Pa said I ought to get married before the wedding time it's bad if there's no one to see after things then and the maids waste such a lot of fat when do you want to get married next month aunt said the young man in a turn of hopeless resignation may I kiss you aunt fire fire said Tunt Sunny and then gave him a resounding kiss come draw your chair a little closer she said and their elbow is now touching on through the night the next morning at dawn as M passed through Tunt Sunny's bedroom she found the boar woman pulling off her boots preparatory to climbing into bed where is Peter van der Vot just gone said Tunt Sunny and I am going to marry him this day four weeks I am dead sleepy the stupid thing doesn't know how to talk love talk at all and she climbed into the four poster clothes and all and threw the quilt up to her chin on the day proceeding Tunt Sunny's wedding Gregory rose sat in the blazing sun on the stern wall behind his door bon wattle house it was warm but he was intently watching a small buggy that was being recklessly driven over the bushes in the direction of the farmhouse Gregory never stirred till it had vanished then finding the stones hot he slipped down and walked into the house he kicked the little pale that lay in the doorway and sent it into one corner that did him good then he sat down in the box and began cutting letters out of a piece of newspaper finding that the snippings littered the floor he picked them up and began scribbling on his blotting paper he tried the effect of different initials before his name rose G rose E rose L rose L rose L L L L rose when he had covered the sheet he looked at it discontentedly a little while then suddenly began to write a letter beloved sister it was a long time ago since I last wrote to you but I have had no time this is the first morning I've been at home since I don't know when M always expects me to go down to the farmhouse in the morning but I don't feel as though I could stand the ride today I have much news for you Tantzani M's Boer stepmother is to be married tomorrow she has gone to town today and the wedding feast is to be at her brother's farm M and I are going to ride over on horseback but her cousin is going to ride in the buggy with that German I don't think I've written to you since she came back from school I don't think you would like her at all, Jemima there's something so proud about her she thinks just because she's handsome there's nobody good enough to talk to her and just as if there had been nobody else but her been to boarding school before they are going to have a grand affair tomorrow all the Boers about are coming and they are going to dance all night but I don't think I shall dance at all for as M's cousin says these Boer dancers are low things I'm sure I only danced at the last to please M I don't know why she is so fond of dancing M talked about being married on the same day as Tantzani but I said it would be nicer for her if she waited till the sharing was over and I took her down to see you I suppose she will have to live with us M's cousin I mean as she has not anything in the world but a poor fifty pounds I don't like her at all, Jemima and I don't think you would she's got such queer ways she's always driving about in a gig with that low German and I don't think it's at all the thing for a woman to be going round with a man that she's not engaged to to you if it was me now of course who am a kind of connection it would be different the way she treats me considering that I am soon to be her cousin is not at all nice I took down my album the other day with your likenesses in it and I told her she could look at it and put it down close to her but she just said thank you and never even touched it she gets the wildest horses in that buggy and a horrid snappish little kerb belonging to the German sitting in front and then she drives out alone I don't think it's at all proper for a woman to drive out alone I wouldn't allow it if she was my sister the other morning I don't know how it happened I was going in the way from which she was coming and that little beast they call him Doss began to bark when he saw me he always does the little rich horses began to spring and kick the splash board all to pieces it was a sight to see Jemima she has got the littlest hands I ever saw I could hold them both in one of mine and not know that I'd got anything except that they were so soft but she held those horses in as though they were made of iron when I wanted to help her she said no thank you I can manage them myself I've got a pair of bits that would break their jaws if I used them well I laughed and drove away it's so unwomanly till farther my higher of the ground will not be out for six months and before that M and I will be married my pair of birds is breeding now but I haven't been down to see them for three days I don't seem to care about anything anymore I don't know what it is I'm not well if I go into town on Saturday I'll let the doctor examine me but perhaps she will go in herself it's a very strange thing Jemima will never send her letters to post by me if I ask her she has none and the very next day she goes in and posts them herself you mustn't say anything about it Jemima but twice I've brought her letters from the post in a gentleman's hand and I'm sure they were both from the same person because I noticed every little mark even the dotting of the eyes of course it's nothing to me but for M's sake I can't help feeling an interest in her I may dislike her myself and I hope she's up to nothing I pity the man who marries her I wouldn't be him for anything if I had a wife with pride I'd make her give it up sharp I don't believe in a man who can't make a woman obey him now M I'm very fond of her as you know but if I tell her to put on a certain dress that dress she puts on and if I tell her to sit on a certain seat on that seat she sits and if I tell her not to speak to a certain individual she does not speak to them if a man lets a woman do what he doesn't like he's a muff give my love to mother and the children the felt hair is looking pretty good and the sheep are better since we washed them tell father the dip he recommended is very good M sent her love to you she's making me some woolen shirts but they don't fit me so nicely as those mother made me June 2 your loving brother Gregory P.S she drove past just now I was sitting on the crawl wall right before her eyes and she never even bowed G.N.R end of chapter 2 part 5 chapter 2 part 6 of the story of an African farm by Olive Shreiner this LibriVox recording is in the public domain read by Sally McConnell in Bettys Bay, South Africa in March 2010 a boar wedding I didn't know you were so fond of riding hard said Gregory to his little betrothed they were cantering slowly on the road to a mullers on the morning of the wedding do you call this riding hard asked M in some astonishment of course I do it's enough to break the horse's necks and knock one up for the whole day besides he added testily then twisted his head to look at the buggy that came on behind I thought Waldo was such a mad driver they're taking it easily enough today said Gregory one would think the black stallions were lame I suppose they want to keep out of our dust said M see they stand still as soon as we do perceiving this to be the case Gregory rode on it's all that horse of yours she kicks up such confounded dust I can't stand it myself he said meanwhile the cart came on slowly enough take the reins, said Lindel and make them walk I want to rest and watch their hoofs today not to be exhilarated I am so tired she leaned back in her corner and Waldo drove on slowly in the grey dawn light along the level road they passed the very milk bush behind which so many years before the Germans had found the Kepha woman but their thoughts were not with him that morning they were thoughts of the young that run out to meet the future and labour in the present at last he touched her arm what is it? I feared you'd gone to sleep and might be jolted out, he said you sat so quietly no, do not talk to me I'm not asleep but after a time she said suddenly it must be a terrible thing to bring a human being into the world Waldo looked round she sat drawn into the corner her blue cloud wound tightly about her and she still watched the horses feet having no comment to offer on her somewhat unexpected remark he merely touched up his horses I have no conscience none, she added but I would not like to bring a soul into this world when it sinned and when it suffered something like a dead hand would fall on me you did it, you for your own pleasure you created this thing see your work if it lived to be 80 it would always hang like a millstone round my neck have the right to demand good from me and curse me for its sorrow a parent is only like to God if his work turns out bad so much the worse for him he dare not wash his hands of it time and years can never bring the day when you can say to your child soul, what have I to do with you? Waldo said dreamily it is a marvellous thing that one soul should have power to cause another she heard the words as she heard the beating of the horses' hooves her thoughts ran on in their own line they say God sins the little babies of all the dastardly revolting lies men tell to suit themselves I hate that the most I suppose my father said so when he knew he was dying of consumption and my mother when she knew he had nothing to support me on and they created me to feed like a dog from stranger hands men did not say that God sins the books or the newspaper articles or the machines they make and then sigh and shrug their shoulders and say they can't help it why did they say so about other things? Liars God sins the little babies she struck her foot fretfully against the splash board the small children say so earnestly they touch the little stranger reverently who has just come from God's far country and they peep about the room to see if not one white feather has dropped from the wing of the angel that brought him on their lips the phrase means much on all others it's a deliberate lie noticeable too dropping in an instant from the passionate into a low mocking tone when people are married and they should have 60 children they throw the whole onus on God when they are not we hear nothing about God's having sent them when there has been no legal contract between the parents who sends the little children then the devil perhaps she laughed her little silvery mocking laugh odd that some men should come from hell and some from heaven and yet all look so much alike when they get here that her he had not the key to her thoughts and did not see the string on which they were strung she drew her cloud tighter about her it must be very nice to believe in the devil she said I wish I did if it would be of any use I would pray three hours night and morning on my bare knees God let me believe in Satan he's so useful to those people who do they may be as selfish and as sensual as they please and between God's will and the devil's action always have someone to throw their sin on but we Richard unbelievers we bear our own burdens we must say I myself did it I not God not Satan I myself that is the sting that strikes deep Waldo she said gently with a sudden and complete change of manner I like you so much I love you she twisted her cheek softly against his shoulder when I'm with you I never know that I'm a woman and you are a man I only know that we are both things that think other men when I'm with them whether I love them or not they are mere bodies to me but you are a spirit I like you look she said quickly sinking back into her corner what a pretty pinkness there is on all the hilltops the sun will rise in a moment Waldo lifted his eyes to look round the circle of golden hills and the horses as the first sunbeams touched them shook their heads and champed their bright bits till the brass settings on their harness glittered again it was eight o'clock when they neared the farmhouse a red brick building with crawls to the right and a small orchard to the left already there were signs of unusual life and bustle one cart a wagon and a couple of saddles against the wall but took on the arrival of a few early guests whose numbers would soon be largely increased to a Dutch country wedding guests start up in numbers astonishing to one who has merely ridden through the plains of sparsely inhabited Karoo as the morning advances riders on many shades of steeds appear from all directions and add their saddles to the long rows against the walls shake hands, drink coffee and stand about outside in groups to watch the arriving carts and ox wagons as they are unburdened by the fray of massive tunters and cumbly daughters followed by swarms of children of all sizes dressed in all manner of print and moleskin who were taken care of by hot and tart kaffa and half-caste nurses whose many shaded complexions ranging from light yellow up to ebony black add variety to the animated scene everywhere is excitement and bustle which gradually increases as the time for the return of the wedding party approaches preparations for the feast are actively advancing in the kitchen coffee is liberally handed round and amid a profound sensation and the firing of guns the horse wagon draws up and the wedding party alight bride and bridegroom with their attendance march solemnly to the marriage chamber where bed and box are decked out in white with ends of ribbon and artificial flowers and wear on a row of chairs the party solemnly seat themselves after a time bridesmaid and best man rise and conduct in ceremony each individual guest to wish success and to kiss bride and bridegroom then the feast is set on the table and it's almost sunset before the dishes are cleared away and the pleasure of the day begins everything is removed from the great front room and the mud floor well rubbed with bullocks blood glistens like polished mahogany the female portion of the assembly flock into the side rooms to attire themselves for the evening and reissue clad in white muslin and gay with brat ribbons and brass jewellery the dancing begins as the first tello candles are stuck up about the walls the music coming from a couple of fiddlers in a corner of the room bride and groom open the ball and the floor is soon covered with whirling couples and everyone's spirits rise the bridal pair mingle freely in the throng and here and there a musical man sings vigorously as he drags the partner through the blue water or John Sperrywig boys shout and applaud and the enjoyment and confusion are intense till eleven o'clock comes by this time the children who swarm in the side rooms are not to be kept quiet any longer even by hunters of bread and cake there is a general howl and wail that rises yet higher than the scraping of fiddles and mothers rush from their partners to knock small heads together and cuff little nursemaids and force the wailers down into unoccupied corners of beds under tables and behind boxes in half an hour every variety of childish snores heard on all sides and it has become perilous to raise or sit down a foot in any of the side rooms lest a small head or hand should be crushed now too the busy feet have broken the solid coating of the floor and a cloud of fine dust arises that makes a yellow halo round the candles and sits with people coughing and grows denser till to recognize anyone on the opposite side of the room becomes impossible and a partner's face is seen through a yellow mist at twelve o'clock the bride is led to the marriage chamber and undressed the lights are blown out and the bridegroom is brought to the door by the best man who gives him the key then the door is shut and locked and the levels rise higher than ever there is no thought of sleep till morning and no unoccupied spot where sleep it was at this stage of the proceedings of the night of Tansani's wedding that Lindell sat near the doorway in one of the side rooms to watch the dancers as they appeared and disappeared in the yellow cloud of dust Gregory sat moodily in a corner of the large dancing room his little betrothed touched his arm I wish you would go and ask Lindell to dance with you, she said she must be so tired she has sat still the whole evening I've asked her three times replied her lover shortly I'm not going to be her dog and creep to her feet just to give her the pleasure of kicking me not for you, Em, nor for anybody else oh I didn't know you'd asked her, Greg said his little betrothed humbly and she went away to pour out coffee nevertheless some time after Gregory found that he had shifted so far round the room as to be close to the door where Lindell sat after standing for some time he inquired whether he might not bring her a cup of coffee she declined, but still he stood on why should he not stand there as well as anywhere else and then he stepped into the bedroom may I not bring you a stove, Miss Lindell to put your feet on thank you he sought for one and put it under her feet there is a draft from that broken window shall I stuff something in the pain no, we want air Gregory looked round but nothing else suggesting itself he sat down on a box on the opposite side of the door Lindell sat before him her chin resting in her hand her eyes steel grey by day but black by night looked through the doorway into the next room after a time he thought she had entirely forgotten his proximity and he dared to inspect the little hands and neck as he never dared when he was in momentary dread of the eyes being turned upon him black, which seemed to take her yet further from the white-clad, goo-gourd women about her and the little hands were white and the diamond ring glittered where had she got that ring he bent forward a little and tried to decipher the letters, but the candlelight was too faint when he looked up her eyes were fixed on him she was looking at him not, Gregory felt as she had ever looked at him before not as though he were as stump or a stone the chance had thrown in her way tonight whether it were critically or kindly or unkindly he could not tell, but she looked at him at the man Gregory Rose with attention a vague elation filled him he clenched his fist tight to think of some good idea he might express to her, but of all those profound things he had pictured himself as saying to her when he sat alone in the door-burn-wattle-house he said at last these bored dances are very low things and then as soon as it had gone from him he thought it was not a clever remark and wished it back before Lindell replied M looked in at the door oh come, she said they're going to have the cushion dance I do not want to kiss any of these fellows take me quickly she slipped her hand into Gregory's arm it is so dusty M do you care to dance any more he asked without rising oh I do not mind the dust and the dancing rests me but he did not move I feel tired I do not think I shall dance again he said M withdrew her hand and a young farmer came to the door and bore her off I have often imagined remarked Gregory, but Lindell had risen I am tired she said I wonder where Waldo is, he must take me home these people will not leave off till morning I suppose it's three already she made her way past the fiddlers and a bench full of tired dancers and passed out at the front door on the stoop a group of men and boys were smoking peeping in at the windows and cracking coarse jokes Waldo was certainly not among them and she made her way to the carts and wagons drawn up at some distance from the homestead Waldo she said peering into a large cart is that you? I am so dazed with the tello candles I can see nothing he had made himself a place between the two seats she climbed up and sat on the sloping floor in front I thought I should find you here she said drawing her skirt up about her shoulders you must take me home presently but not now she leaned her head on the seat near to his and they listened in silence to the fitful twanging of the fiddlers as the night wind bore it from the farmhouse and to the ceaseless thud of the dancers and the peels of gross laughter she stretched out her little hand to feel for his it is so nice to lie here and hear that noise she said I like to feel that strange life beating up against me I like to realise forms of life utterly unlike mine she drew a long breath when my own life feels small and I am oppressed with it I like to crush together in an instant a multitude of disconnected unlike phases of human life a medieval monk with his string of pearls pacing the quiet orchard and looking up from the grass at his feet to the heavy fruit trees little Malay boys playing naked on a shining sea beach a Hindu philosopher learned under his Bunyan tree thinking thinking so that in the thought of God he may lose himself a troop of Bacchanalians dressed in white with crowns of vine leaves dancing along the Roman streets a martyr on the night of his death looking through the narrow window to the sky and feeling that already he has the wings that shall bear him up she moved her hand dreamily over her face an epicurean discoursing at a Roman bath to a knot of his disciples on the nature of happiness a kaffa witch doctor seeking for herbs by moonlight while from the huts on the hillside come the sound of dogs barking and the voices of women and children a mother giving bread and milk to her children in little wooden basins and singing the evening song I like to see it all I feel it run through me that life belongs to me it makes my little life larger it breaks down the narrow walls that shut me in she sighed and drew a long breath have you made any plan she asked him presently yes he said the words coming in jets with pauses between I will take the grey mare I will travel first I'll see the world then I will find work what work? I do not know she made a little impatient movement that is no plan travel see the world find work if you go into the world aimless a definite object dreaming dreaming you will be definitely defeated bam boozled not the swear mat in the end you will stand with your beautiful life all spent and nothing to show they talk of genius it is nothing but this that a man knows what he can do best and does it and nothing else Waldo she said knitting her little fingers closer among his I wish I could help you I wish I could make you see you must decide what you will be and do it does not matter what you choose be a farmer businessman artist what you will but know your aim and live for that one thing we have only one life the secret of success is concentration wherever there has been a great life or a great work that has gone before taste everything a little look at everything a little but live for one thing it is possible to a man who knows his end and move straight for it and for it alone I will show you what I mean words or gas till you condense them into pictures suppose a woman young friendless as I am the weakest thing on God's earth but she must make her way through life what she would be she cannot be because she's a woman so she looks carefully at herself and the world about her will be made there is no one to help her she must help herself she looks these things she has a sweet voice rich and subtle intonations a very fair face with a power of concentrating in itself and giving expression to feelings that otherwise must have been dissipated in words a rare power of entering into other lives unlike her own and intuitively reading them a right how shall she use them a poet, a writer needs only the mental what use has he for a beautiful body that registers clearly mental emotions and the painter wants an eye for form and colour and the musician an ear for time and tune and the mere drudge has no need for mental gifts but there is one art in which all she has would be used for which they are all necessary the delicate expressive body the rich voice the power of mental transposition the actor who absorbs and then reflects from himself other human lives needs them all but needs not much more this is her end but how to reach it before her are endless difficulties seas must be crossed poverty must be endured loneliness want she must be content to wait long before she can even get her feet upon the path if she has made blunders in the past if she has waited herself for the burden which she must bear to the end she must but bear the burden bravely and labour on there is no use in wailing and repentance here the next world is the place for that this life is too short by our eras we see deeper into life they help us she waited for a while if she does all this if she waits patiently she is never cast down never despairs never forgets her end moves straight towards it bending men and things most unlikely to her purpose she must succeed at last men and things are plastic they part to the right and lift when one comes along them moving in a straight line to one end I know it by my own little experience she said long years ago I resolved to be sent to school it seemed a thing utterly out of my power but I waited I watched I collected clothes I wrote took my place at the school when all was ready I bore with my full force on the bore woman and she sent me at last it was a small thing but life is made up of small things as a body is built up of cells what has been done in small things can be done in large shall be she said softly Waldo listened to him the words were no confusion no glimpse into the strong proud restless heart of the woman they were general words with a general application he looked up into the sparkling sky with dull eyes yes he said but when we lie and think and think we see that there is nothing worth doing the universe is so large and man is so small she shook her head quickly but we must not think so far it is madness it is a disease we know that no man's work is great and stands forever Moses is dead and the prophets and the books that our grandmothers fed on the mould is eating your poet and painter and actor before the shots that applaud them have died their names grow strange they are milestones that the world has passed men have set their mark on mankind forever as they thought but time has washed it out as it has washed out mountains and continents she raised herself on her elbow and what if we could help mankind and leave the traces of our work upon it to the end mankind is only an ephemeral blossom on the tree of time there were others before it opened there will be others after it has fallen where was man in the time of the decanodant and when hoary monsters wallowed in the mud and found in the eons that are to come we are sparks we are shadows we are pollen which the next wind will carry away we are dying already it is all a dream I know that thought when the fever of living is on us when the desire to become to know, to do is driving us mad we can use it as an anodyne to still the fever and cool our beating pulses but it is a poison not a food if we live on it it will turn our blood to ice we might as well be dead we must not, Waldo I want your life to be beautiful to end in something you are nobler and stronger than I she said and as much better as one of God's great angels is better than a sinning man your life must go for something yes we will work, he said she moved closer to him and lay still his black curls touching her smooth little head Doss who had lain at his master's side climbed over the bench and curled himself up in her lap she drew her skirt up over him and the three set motionless for a long time Waldo she said suddenly they are laughing at us who he asked starting up they, the stars she said softly there is a little white mocking finger pointing down at us from each one of them we are talking of tomorrow and our hearts are so strong we are not thinking of something that can touch us softly in the dark and make us still forever they are laughing at us, Waldo both sat looking upwards do you ever pray he asked her in a low voice no I never do at night when I look up there I will tell you he added in a still lower voice where I could pray if there were a wall of rock on the edge of a world and one rock stretched out far far into space and I stood alone upon it alone with stars above me and stars below me I would not say anything but the feeling would be prayer there was an end to their conversation after that and Doss fell asleep on her knee at last the night wind grew very chilly ha! she said shivering and drawing the skirt about her shoulders I'm cold span in the horses and call me when you're ready she slipped down and walked towards the house Doss stiffly following her not pleased at being razed at the door she met Gregory I've been looking for you everywhere may I not drive you home? he said Waldo drives me he replied passing on and it appeared to Gregory that she looked at him in the old way without seeing him but before she had reached the door an idea had occurred to her for she turned if you wish to drive me you may Gregory went to look for M whom he found pouring out coffee in the back room he put his hand quickly on her shoulder you must drive with Waldo I'm going to drive your cousin home but I can't come just now, Greg I promised Aunt Annie Miller to look after the things while she went to rest a little well you can come presently, can't you? I didn't say you were to come now I'm sick of this thing said Gregory turning sharply on his heel why must I sit up the whole night because you'll step by the choosers to get married it's all right, Greg, I only meant but he did not hear her and a man had come up to have his cup filled an hour after Waldo came in to look for her and found her still busy at the table the horses are ready, he said but if you would like to have one dance more I will wait she shook her head warily no, I'm quite ready to go I want to go and soon they were on the sandy road the buggy had travelled an hour before their horses, with heads close together nodding sleepily as they walked in the starlight you might have counted the rise and fall of their feet in the sand and Waldo in his saddle nodded drowsily also and the M was awake and watched the starlit road with wide open eyes at last she spoke I wonder if all people feel so old so very old when they get to be seventeen not older than before said Waldo sleepily pulling at his bridle presently she said again I wish I could have been a little child always you are good then you are never selfish you like everyone to have everything but when you're grown up there are some things you like to have all to yourself and don't like anyone else to have any of them yes said Waldo sleepily and she did not speak again when they reached the farmhouse all was dark for Lindel had retired as soon as they got home Waldo lifted him from her saddle and for a moment she leaned her head on his shoulder and clung to him you are very tired he said as he walked with her to the door let me go in and light a candle for you no thank you it's all right she said good night Waldo dear but when she went in she sat long alone in the dark end of chapter two part six chapter two part seven of the story of an African farm by Olive Shreiner the Slippery Vox recording is in the public domain read by Sally McConnell in Betty's Bay South Africa in March 2010 Waldo goes up to taste life and M stays at home and tastes it at nine o'clock in the evening packing his bundles for the next morning start Waldo looked up and was surprised to see M's yellow head peeping in at his door it was many a month since she had been there she said she had made him sandwiches for his journey and she stayed a while to help him put his goods into the saddle bags you can leave the old bags lying about she said I will lock the room and keep it waiting for you to come back someday to come back someday would the bird ever return to its cage but he thanked her when she went away he stood on the doorstep holding the candle till she had almost reached the house but M was that evening in no hurry to enter and instead of going in at the back door walked with lagging footsteps round the low brick wall that ran before the house opposite the open window of the parlour she stopped the little room kept carefully closed in Tunt sunny's time was well lighted by a paraffin lamp books and workplace drew in about it and it wore a bright habitable aspect beside the lamp at the table in the corner sat Lindel the open letters and papers of the day's post lying scattered before her while she perused the columns of a newspaper at the centre table with his arms folded on an open paper which there was not light enough to read sat Gregory he was looking at her the light from the open window fell on M's little face under its white copy as she looked in but no one glanced that way go and fetch me a glass of water Lindel said at last Gregory went out to find it when he put it down at her side she merely moved her head in recognition and he went back to his seat and his old occupation then M moved slowly away from the window and through it came in spotted hard winged insects to play around the lamp till one by one they stuck to its glass and fell at the foot dead ten o'clock struck then Lindel rose gathered up her papers and letters and wished Gregory good night sometime after M entered she had been sitting all the while on the loft ladder and had drawn her cuppy down very much over her face Gregory was piecing together the bits of an envelope when she came in I thought you were never coming he said turning round quickly and throwing the fragments onto the floor you know I've been sharing all day and it's ten o'clock already I'm sorry I did not think you would be going so soon she said in a low voice I can't hear what you say what makes you mumble so well good night M he stooped down hastily to kiss her I want to talk to you Gregory well make haste he said pettishly I'm awfully tired I've been sitting here all evening why couldn't you come and talk before I will not keep you long she answered very steadily now I think Gregory it would be better if I were never to be married good heavens M what do you mean I thought you were so fond of me you always professed to be what on earth have you taken into your head now I think it would be better she said folding her hands over each other very much as though she were praying better M what do you mean even a woman can't take a freak all about nothing you must have some reason for it and I'm sure I've done nothing to offend you I wrote only today to my sister to tell her to come up next month to our wedding and I've been as affectionate and happy as possible come what's the matter he put his arm half round her shoulder very loosely I think it would be better she answered slowly oh well you said drawing himself up if you won't enter into explanations you won't and I'm not the man to pray not to any woman and you know that if you don't want to marry me I can't oblige you to of course she stood quite still before him you women never do know your own minds for two days together and of course you know the state of your own feelings best but it's very strange have you really made up your mind M yes well I'm very sorry I'm sure I've not been in anything to blame man can't always be billing and cooing but as you say if your feeling for me has changed it's much better you shouldn't marry me there's nothing so foolish just to marry someone you don't love and I only wish for your happiness I'm sure I dare say you'll find someone to make you much happier than I could the first person we love is seldom the right one you are very young it's quite natural you should change she said nothing things often seem hard at the time this makes them turn out for the best in the end said Gregory you'll let me kiss you M just for old friendship's sake he stooped on you must look upon me as a dear brother as a cousin at least as long as I'm on the farm I shall always be glad to help you M soon after the brown perney was cantering along the footpath to the Dorben Wattle House and his master as he rode whistled John Sperrywig in the Thorncluth Scottish he had touched the outstretched arms of the prickly pear upon the copy and the early cocks and hens still strutted about stiffly after the night's roost when Waldo stood before the Wagon House saddling the grey mare every now and then he glanced up at the old familiar objects they had a new aspect that morning even the cocks seen in the light of parting had a peculiar interest and he listened with conscious attention while one crowed clear and loud as it stood on the pig's-dye wall he wished good morning softly to the cattlewoman who was coming up from the huts to light the fire he was leaving them all to that old life and from his height he looked down on them pityingly so they would keep on crowing and coming to light fires went for him that old colourless existence was but a dream he went into the house to say goodbye to him and then he walked to the door of Lindel's room to wake her up and standing in the doorway so you're ready Waldo looked at her with sudden heaviness the exhilaration died out of his heart her grey dressing gown hung close about her and below its edge the little bare feet were resting on the threshold I wonder when we shall meet again Waldo what you will be and what I will you write to me he asked of her yes and if I should not remember wherever you are that you are not alone I have left DOS for you he said will you not miss him no I want you to have him he loves you better than he loves me thank you they stood quiet goodbye she said putting her little hand in his and he turned away but when he reached the door she called to him come back I want to kiss you she drew his face down to hers and covered it with both hands and kissed it on the forehead and mouth goodbye dear when he looked back the little figure with its beautiful eyes was standing in the doorway still end of chapter 2 part 7