She lay for awhile watching
the orange light of evening gleaming through the creeper that
entwined the comer of the _stoep_ outside her window. Then,
growing weary of inaction, she slipped from her bed and began to
dress.
Her cabin-trunk had been placed in a corner of the bare room. She
found her key and opened it.
Guy's photograph--the photograph she had cherished for five
years--lay on the top. She saw it with a sudden, sharp pang,
remembering how she had put it in at the last moment and smiled to
think how soon she would behold him in the flesh. The handsome,
boyish face looked straight into hers. Ah, how she had loved him.
A swift tremor went through her. She closed her eyes upon the
smiling face. And suddenly great tears welled up from her heart.
She laid her face down upon the portrait and wept.
The voices on the _stoep_ recalled her. She remembered that she
had a reputation for courage to maintain. She commanded herself
with an effort and finished her dressing. She did not dare to look
at the portrait again, but hid it deep in her trunk.
Mary Ann seemed to have forsaken her, and she was in some
uncertainty as to how to proceed when she was at length ready to
leave her room. She did not want to intrude upon Burke and his
visitor, but a great longing to breathe the air of the _veldt_ was
upon her.
Pages:
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106