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Updated: June 21, 2025
"Lyndall," she said, putting her face down upon the hands she held, "it made me think about that time when we were little girls and used to play together, when I loved you better than anything else in the world. It isn't any one's fault that they love you; they can't help it. And it isn't your fault; you don't make them love you. I know it." "Thank you, dear," Lyndall said.
Lyndall was softly touching the little sore foot as she read, and Doss, to show he liked it, licked her hand. "But, Miss Lyndall," persisted Gregory, "what do you really think of him?" "I think," said Lyndall, "that he is like a thorn-tree, which grows up very quietly, without any one's caring for it, and one day suddenly breaks out into yellow blossoms."
He says he will teach me to behave myself when Lyndall troubles him." "What did she do?" asked the boy. "You see," said Em, hopelessly turning the leaves, "whenever he talks she looks out at the door, as though she did not hear him.
"Do you think now, Miss Lyndall, that he'll ever have anything in the world that German. I mean money enough to support a wife on, and all that sort of thing? I don't. He's what I call soft." She was spreading her skirt out softly with her left hand for the dog to lie down on it. "I think I should be rather astonished if he ever became a respectable member of society," she said.
Before Lyndall replied Em looked in at the door. "Oh, come," she said; "they are 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, Em; 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.
The girls followed him: Em still weeping; Lyndall with her face rather white and her eyes wide open. "And I have the heart of a devil, did you say? You could run me through with a knife, could you?" cried the Dutchwoman. "I could not drive the Kaffer maid away because I was afraid of you, was I? Oh, you miserable rag!
"My friend, my dear friend," said the stranger, seizing him by the hand, "may the Lord bless you, the Lord bless and reward you the God of the fatherless and the stranger. But for you I would this night have slept in the fields, with the dews of heaven upon my head." Late that evening Lyndall came down to the cabin with the German's rations.
"There," said Lyndall, "goes a true woman one born for the sphere that some women have to fill without being born for it. How happy he would be sewing frills into his little girl's frocks, and how pretty he would look sitting in a parlour, with a rough man making love to him! Don't you think so?"
Lyndall 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.
"Come, Em," said Lyndall, lifting her small proud head, "let us go in. We will not stay to hear such language." She looked into the Boer-woman's eyes. Tant Sannie understood the meaning of the look if not the words. She waddled after them, and caught Em by the arm. She had struck Lyndall once years before, and had never done it again, so she took Em.
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