DREAM LIFE AND REAL LIFE A Little African Story by Olive Schreiner Author of "The Story of an African Farm" and "Dreams" Dedication. To My Brother Fred, For whose little school magazine the first of these tiny stories--one ofthe first I ever made--was written out many long years ago. O. S. New College, Eastbourne, Sept. 29, 1893. Contents. I. Dream Life and Real Life; a Little African Story. II. The Woman's Rose. III. "The Policy in Favour of Protection--". Kopjes--In the karoo, are hillocks of stones, that rise up singly or inclusters, here and there; presenting sometimes the fantastic appearanceof old ruined castles or giant graves, the work of human hands. Kraal--A sheepfold. Krantz--A precipice. Sluit--A deep fissure, generally dry, in which the superfluous torrentsof water are carried from the karoo plains after thunderstorms. Stoep--A porch. I. DREAM LIFE AND REAL LIFE; A LITTLE AFRICAN STORY. Little Jannita sat alone beside a milk-bush. Before her and behind herstretched the plain, covered with red sand and thorny karoo bushes; andhere and there a milk-bush, looking like a bundle of pale green rodstied together. Not a tree was to be seen anywhere, except on the banksof the river, and that was far away, and the sun beat on her head. Roundher fed the Angora goats she was herding; pretty things, especially thelittle ones, with white silky curls that touched the ground. But Jannitasat crying. If an angel should gather up in his cup all the tears thathave been shed, I think the bitterest would be those of children. By and by she was so tired, and the sun was so hot, she laid her headagainst the milk-bush, and dropped asleep. She dreamed a beautiful dream. She thought that when she went back tothe farmhouse in the evening, the walls were covered with vines androses, and the kraals were not made of red stone, but of lilac treesfull of blossom. And the fat old Boer smiled at her; and the stick heheld across the door, for the goats to jump over, was a lily rod withseven blossoms at the end. When she went to the house her mistress gaveher a whole roaster-cake for her supper, and the mistress's daughterhad stuck a rose in the cake; and her mistress's son-in-law said, "Thankyou!" when she pulled off his boots, and did not kick her. It was a beautiful dream. While she lay thus dreaming, one of the little kids came and licked heron her cheek, because of the salt from her dried-up tears. And in herdream she was not a poor indentured child any more, living with Boers. It was her father who kissed her. He said he had only been asleep--thatday when he lay down under the thorn-bush; he had not really died. Hefelt her hair, and said it was grown long and silky, and he said theywould go back to Denmark now. He asked her why her feet were bare, andwhat the marks on her back were. Then he put her head on his shoulder, and picked her up, and carried her away, away! She laughed--she couldfeel her face against his brown beard. His arms were so strong. As she lay there dreaming, with the ants running over her naked feet, and with her brown curls lying in the sand, a Hottentot came up to her. He was dressed in ragged yellow trousers, and a dirty shirt, and tornjacket. He had a red handkerchief round his head, and a felt hat abovethat. His nose was flat, his eyes like slits, and the wool on his headwas gathered into little round balls. He came to the milk-bush, andlooked at the little girl lying in the hot sun. Then he walked off, andcaught one of the fattest little Angora goats, and held its mouth fast, as he stuck it under his arm. He looked back to see that she was stillsleeping, and jumped down into one of the sluits. He walked down the bedof the sluit a little way and came to an overhanging bank, under which, sitting on the red sand, were two men. One was a tiny, ragged, oldbushman, four feet high; the other was an English navvy, in a darkblue blouse. They cut the kid's throat with the navvy's long knife, andcovered up the blood with sand, and buried the entrails and skin. Thenthey talked, and quarrelled a little; and then they talked quietlyagain. The Hottentot man put a leg of the kid under his coat and left the restof the meat for the two in the sluit, and walked away. When little Jannita awoke it was almost sunset. She sat up veryfrightened, but her goats were all about her. She began to drive themhome. "I do not think there are any lost, " she said. Dirk, the Hottentot, had brought his flock home already, and stood atthe kraal door with his ragged yellow trousers. The fat old Boer put hisstick across the door, and let Jannita's goats jump over, one by one. Hecounted them. When the last jumped over: "Have you been to sleep today?"he said; "there is one missing. " Then little Jannita knew what was coming, and she said, in a low voice, "No. " And then she felt in her heart that deadly sickness that you feelwhen you tell a lie; and again she said, "Yes. " "Do you think you will have any supper this evening?" said the Boer. "No, " said Jannita. "What do you think you will have?" "I don't know, " said Jannita. "Give me your whip, " said the Boer to Dirk, the Hottentot. ***** The moon was all but full that night. Oh, but its light was beautiful! The little girl crept to the door of the outhouse where she slept, andlooked at it. When you are hungry, and very, very sore, you do notcry. She leaned her chin on one hand, and looked, with her great dove'seyes--the other hand was cut open, so she wrapped it in her pinafore. She looked across the plain at the sand and the low karoo-bushes, withthe moonlight on them. Presently, there came slowly, from far away, a wild springbuck. Itcame close to the house, and stood looking at it in wonder, whilethe moonlight glinted on its horns, and in its great eyes. It stoodwondering at the red brick walls, and the girl watched it. Then, suddenly, as if it scorned it all, it curved its beautiful back andturned; and away it fled over the bushes and sand, like a sheeny streakof white lightning. She stood up to watch it. So free, so free! Away, away! She watched, till she could see it no more on the wide plain. Her heart swelled, larger, larger, larger: she uttered a low cry; andwithout waiting, pausing, thinking, she followed on its track. Away, away, away! "I--I also!" she said, "I--I also!" When at last her legs began to tremble under her, and she stopped tobreathe, the house was a speck behind her. She dropped on the earth, andheld her panting sides. She began to think now. If she stayed on the plain they would trace her footsteps in the morningand catch her; but if she waded in the water in the bed of the riverthey would not be able to find her footmarks; and she would hide, therewhere the rocks and the kopjes were. So she stood up and walked towards the river. The water in the riverwas low; just a line of silver in the broad bed of sand, here and therebroadening into a pool. She stepped into it, and bathed her feet in thedelicious cold water. Up and up the stream she walked, where it rattledover the pebbles, and past where the farmhouse lay; and where the rockswere large she leaped from one to the other. The night wind in her facemade her strong--she laughed. She had never felt such night wind before. So the night smells to the wild bucks, because they are free! A freething feels as a chained thing never can. At last she came to a place where the willows grew on each side of theriver, and trailed their long branches on the sandy bed. She could nottell why, she could not tell the reason, but a feeling of fear came overher. On the left bank rose a chain of kopjes and a precipice of rocks. Between the precipice and the river bank there was a narrow path coveredby the fragments of fallen rock. And upon the summit of the precipice akippersol tree grew, whose palm-like leaves were clearly cut out againstthe night sky. The rocks cast a deep shadow, and the willow trees, oneither side of the river. She paused, looked up and about her, and thenran on, fearful. "What was I afraid of? How foolish I have been!" she said, when she cameto a place where the trees were not so close together. And she stoodstill and looked back and shivered. At last her steps grew wearier and wearier. She was very sleepy now, shecould scarcely lift her feet. She stepped out of the river-bed. She onlysaw that the rocks about her were wild, as though many little kopjes hadbeen broken up and strewn upon the ground, lay down at the foot of analoe, and fell asleep. ***** But, in the morning, she saw what a glorious place it was. The rockswere piled on one another, and tossed this way and that. Pricklypears grew among them, and there were no less than six kippersol treesscattered here and there among the broken kopjes. In the rocks therewere hundreds of homes for the conies, and from the crevices wildasparagus hung down. She ran to the river, bathed in the clear coldwater, and tossed it over her head. She sang aloud. All the songs sheknew were sad, so she could not sing them now, she was glad, she was sofree; but she sang the notes without the words, as the cock-o-veets do. Singing and jumping all the way, she went back, and took a sharp stone, and cut at the root of a kippersol, and got out a large piece, as longas her arm, and sat to chew it. Two conies came out on the rock aboveher head and peeped at her. She held them out a piece, but they did notwant it, and ran away. It was very delicious to her. Kippersol is like raw quince, when it isvery green; but she liked it. When good food is thrown at you byother people, strange to say, it is very bitter; but whatever you findyourself is sweet! When she had finished she dug out another piece, and went to look fora pantry to put it in. At the top of a heap of rocks up which sheclambered she found that some large stones stood apart but met at thetop, making a room. "Oh, this is my little home!" she said. At the top and all round it was closed, only in the front it was open. There was a beautiful shelf in the wall for the kippersol, and shescrambled down again. She brought a great bunch of prickly pear, andstuck it in a crevice before the door, and hung wild asparagus over it, till it looked as though it grew there. No one could see that there wasa room there, for she left only a tiny opening, and hung a branch offeathery asparagus over it. Then she crept in to see how it looked. There was a glorious soft green light. Then she went out and picked someof those purple little ground flowers--you know them--those that keeptheir faces close to the ground, but when you turn them up and look atthem they are deep blue eyes looking into yours! She took them with alittle earth, and put them in the crevices between the rocks; and sothe room was quite furnished. Afterwards she went down to the river andbrought her arms full of willow, and made a lovely bed; and, because theweather was very hot, she lay down to rest upon it. She went to sleep soon, and slept long, for she was very weak. Late inthe afternoon she was awakened by a few cold drops falling on her face. She sat up. A great and fierce thunderstorm had been raging, and afew of the cool drops had fallen through the crevice in the rocks. Shepushed the asparagus branch aside, and looked out, with her little handsfolded about her knees. She heard the thunder rolling, and saw the redtorrents rush among the stones on their way to the river. She heard theroar of the river as it now rolled, angry and red, bearing away stumpsand trees on its muddy water. She listened and smiled, and pressedcloser to the rock that took care of her. She pressed the palm of herhand against it. When you have no one to love you, you love the dumbthings very much. When the sun set, it cleared up. Then the little girlate some kippersol, and lay down again to sleep. She thought there wasnothing so nice as to sleep. When one has had no food but kippersoljuice for two days, one doesn't feel strong. "It is so nice here, " she thought as she went to sleep, "I will stayhere always. " Afterwards the moon rose. The sky was very clear now, there was not acloud anywhere; and the moon shone in through the bushes in the door, and made a lattice-work of light on her face. She was dreaming abeautiful dream. The loveliest dreams of all are dreamed when you arehungry. She thought she was walking in a beautiful place, holding herfather's hand, and they both had crowns on their heads, crowns of wildasparagus. The people whom they passed smiled and kissed her; some gaveher flowers, and some gave her food, and the sunlight was everywhere. She dreamed the same dream over and over, and it grew more and morebeautiful; till, suddenly, it seemed as though she were standing quitealone. She looked up: on one side of her was the high precipice, on theother was the river, with the willow trees, drooping their branches intothe water; and the moonlight was over all. Up, against the night sky thepointed leaves of the kippersol trees were clearly marked, and the rocksand the willow trees cast dark shadows. In her sleep she shivered, and half awoke. "Ah, I am not there, I am here, " she said; and she crept closer to therock, and kissed it, and went to sleep again. It must have been about three o'clock, for the moon had begun to sinktowards the western sky, when she woke, with a violent start. She satup, and pressed her hand against her heart. "What can it be? A cony must surely have run across my feet andfrightened me!" she said, and she turned to lie down again; but soon shesat up. Outside, there was the distinct sound of thorns crackling in afire. She crept to the door and made an opening in the branches with herfingers. A large fire was blazing in the shadow, at the foot of the rocks. Alittle Bushman sat over some burning coals that had been raked from it, cooking meat. Stretched on the ground was an Englishman, dressed in ablouse, and with a heavy, sullen face. On the stone beside him was Dirk, the Hottentot, sharpening a bowie knife. She held her breath. Not a cony in all the rocks was so still. "They can never find me here, " she said; and she knelt, and listened toevery word they said. She could hear it all. "You may have all the money, " said the Bushman; "but I want the cask ofbrandy. I will set the roof alight in six places, for a Dutchman burntmy mother once alive in a hut, with three children. " "You are sure there is no one else on the farm?" said the navvy. "No, I have told you till I am tired, " said Dirk; "The two Kaffirs havegone with the son to town; and the maids have gone to a dance; there isonly the old man and the two women left. " "But suppose, " said the navvy, "he should have the gun at his bedside, and loaded!" "He never has, " said Dirk; "it hangs in the passage, and the cartridgestoo. He never thought when he bought it what work it was for! I onlywish the little white girl was there still, " said Dirk; "but she isdrowned. We traced her footmarks to the great pool that has no bottom. " She listened to every word, and they talked on. Afterwards, the little Bushman, who crouched over the fire, sat upsuddenly, listening. "Ha! what is that?" he said. A Bushman is like a dog: his ear is so fine he knows a jackal's treadfrom a wild dog's. "I heard nothing, " said the navvy. "I heard, " said the Hottentot; "but it was only a cony on the rocks. " "No cony, no cony, " said the Bushman; "see, what is that there moving inthe shade round the point?" "Nothing, you idiot!" said the navvy. "Finish your meat; we must startnow. " There were two roads to the homestead. One went along the open plain, and was by far the shortest; but you might be seen half a mile off. Theother ran along the river bank, where there were rocks, and holes, andwillow trees to hide among. And all down the river bank ran a littlefigure. The river was swollen by the storm full to its banks, and the willowtrees dipped their half-drowned branches into its water. Wherever therewas a gap between them, you could see it flow, red and muddy, with thestumps upon it. But the little figure ran on and on; never looking, never thinking; panting, panting! There, where the rocks were thethickest; there, where on the open space the moonlight shone; there, where the prickly pears were tangled, and the rocks cast shadows, on itran; the little hands clinched, the little heart beating, the eyes fixedalways ahead. It was not far to run now. Only the narrow path between the high rocksand the river. At last she came to the end of it, and stood for an instant. Before herlay the plain, and the red farmhouse, so near, that if persons had beenwalking there you might have seen them in the moonlight. She clasped herhands. "Yes, I will tell them, I will tell them!" she said; "I am almostthere!" She ran forward again, then hesitated. She shaded her eyes fromthe moonlight, and looked. Between her and the farmhouse there werethree figures moving over the low bushes. In the sheeny moonlight you could see how they moved on, slowly andfurtively; the short one, and the one in light clothes, and the one indark. "I cannot help them now!" she cried, and sank down on the ground, withher little hands clasped before her. ***** "Awake, awake!" said the farmer's wife; "I hear a strange noise;something calling, calling, calling!" The man rose, and went to the window. "I hear it also, " he said; "surely some jackal's at the sheep. I willload my gun and go and see. " "It sounds to me like the cry of no jackal, " said the woman; and when hewas gone she woke her daughter. "Come, let us go and make a fire, I can sleep no more, " she said; "Ihave heard a strange thing tonight. Your father said it was a jackal'scry, but no jackal cries so. It was a child's voice, and it cried, 'Master, master, wake!'" The women looked at each other; then they went to the kitchen, and madea great fire; and they sang psalms all the while. At last the man came back; and they asked him, "What have you seen?""Nothing, " he said, "but the sheep asleep in their kraals, and themoonlight on the walls. And yet, it did seem to me, " he added, "thatfar away near the krantz by the river, I saw three figures moving. Andafterwards--it might have been fancy--I thought I heard the cry again;but since that, all has been still there. " ***** Next day a navvy had returned to the railway works. "Where have you been so long?" his comrades asked. "He keeps looking over his shoulder, " said one, "as though he thought heshould see something there. " "When he drank his grog today, " said another, "he let it fall, andlooked round. " Next day, a small old Bushman, and a Hottentot, in ragged yellowtrousers, were at a wayside canteen. When the Bushman had had brandy, hebegan to tell how something (he did not say whether it was man, woman, or child) had lifted up its hands and cried for mercy; had kissed awhite man's hands, and cried to him to help it. Then the Hottentot tookthe Bushman by the throat, and dragged him out. Next night, the moon rose up, and mounted the quiet sky. She was fullnow, and looked in at the little home; at the purple flowers stuck aboutthe room, and the kippersol on the shelf. Her light fell on the willowtrees, and on the high rocks, and on a little new-made heap of earthand round stones. Three men knew what was under it; and no one else everwill. Lily Kloof, South Africa. II. THE WOMAN'S ROSE. I have an old, brown carved box; the lid is broken and tied with astring. In it I keep little squares of paper, with hair inside, and alittle picture which hung over my brother's bed when we were children, and other things as small. I have in it a rose. Other women also havesuch boxes where they keep such trifles, but no one has my rose. When my eye is dim, and my heart grows faint, and my faith in womanflickers, and her present is an agony to me, and her future a despair, the scent of that dead rose, withered for twelve years, comes back tome. I know there will be spring; as surely as the birds know it whenthey see above the snow two tiny, quivering green leaves. Spring cannotfail us. There were other flowers in the box once; a bunch of white acaciaflowers, gathered by the strong hand of a man, as we passed down avillage street on a sultry afternoon, when it had rained, and the dropsfell on us from the leaves of the acacia trees. The flowers were damp;they made mildew marks on the paper I folded them in. After many yearsI threw them away. There is nothing of them left in the box now, buta faint, strong smell of dried acacia, that recalls that sultry summerafternoon; but the rose is in the box still. It is many years ago now; I was a girl of fifteen, and I went to visitin a small up-country town. It was young in those days, and two days'journey from the nearest village; the population consisted mainly ofmen. A few were married, and had their wives and children, but most weresingle. There was only one young girl there when I came. She was aboutseventeen, fair, and rather fully-fleshed; she had large dreamy blueeyes, and wavy light hair; full, rather heavy lips, until she smiled;then her face broke into dimples, and all her white teeth shone. Thehotel-keeper may have had a daughter, and the farmer in the outskirtshad two, but we never saw them. She reigned alone. All the menworshipped her. She was the only woman they had to think of. They talkedof her on the stoep, at the market, at the hotel; they watched for herat street corners; they hated the man she bowed to or walked with downthe street. They brought flowers to the front door; they offered hertheir horses; they begged her to marry them when they dared. Partly, there was something noble and heroic in this devotion of men to the bestwoman they knew; partly there was something natural in it, that thesemen, shut off from the world, should pour at the feet of one woman theworship that otherwise would have been given to twenty; and partly therewas something mean in their envy of one another. If she had raised herlittle finger, I suppose, she might have married any one out of twentyof them. Then I came. I do not think I was prettier; I do not think I was sopretty as she was. I was certainly not as handsome. But I was vital, andI was new, and she was old--they all forsook her and followed me. Theyworshipped me. It was to my door that the flowers came; it was I hadtwenty horses offered me when I could only ride one; it was for me theywaited at street corners; it was what I said and did that they talkedof. Partly I liked it. I had lived alone all my life; no one ever hadtold me I was beautiful and a woman. I believed them. I did not knowit was simply a fashion, which one man had set and the rest followedunreasoningly. I liked them to ask me to marry them, and to say, No. I despised them. The mother heart had not swelled in me yet; I did notknow all men were my children, as the large woman knows when her heartis grown. I was too small to be tender. I liked my power. I was likea child with a new whip, which it goes about cracking everywhere, notcaring against what. I could not wind it up and put it away. Men werecurious creatures, who liked me, I could never tell why. Only one thingtook from my pleasure; I could not bear that they had deserted her forme. I liked her great dreamy blue eyes, I liked her slow walk and drawl;when I saw her sitting among men, she seemed to me much too good to beamong them; I would have given all their compliments if she would oncehave smiled at me as she smiled at them, with all her face breaking intoradiance, with her dimples and flashing teeth. But I knew it nevercould be; I felt sure she hated me; that she wished I was dead; that shewished I had never come to the village. She did not know, when we wentout riding, and a man who had always ridden beside her came to ridebeside me, that I sent him away; that once when a man thought to winmy favour by ridiculing her slow drawl before me I turned on him sofiercely that he never dared come before me again. I knew she knew thatat the hotel men had made a bet as to which was the prettier, she or I, and had asked each man who came in, and that the one who had staked onme won. I hated them for it, but I would not let her see that I caredabout what she felt towards me. She and I never spoke to each other. If we met in the village street we bowed and passed on; when we shookhands we did so silently, and did not look at each other. But I thoughtshe felt my presence in a room just as I felt hers. At last the time for my going came. I was to leave the next day. Someone I knew gave a party in my honour, to which all the village wasinvited. It was midwinter. There was nothing in the gardens but a few dahlias andchrysanthemums, and I suppose that for two hundred miles round therewas not a rose to be bought for love or money. Only in the garden of afriend of mine, in a sunny corner between the oven and the brick wall, there was a rose tree growing which had on it one bud. It was white, andit had been promised to the fair haired girl to wear at the party. The evening came; when I arrived and went to the waiting-room, to takeoff my mantle, I found the girl there already. She was dressed in purewhite, with her great white arms and shoulders showing, and her brighthair glittering in the candle-light, and the white rose fastened at herbreast. She looked like a queen. I said "Good-evening, " and turned awayquickly to the glass to arrange my old black scarf across my old blackdress. Then I felt a hand touch my hair. "Stand still, " she said. I looked in the glass. She had taken the white rose from her breast, andwas fastening it in my hair. "How nice dark hair is; it sets off flowers so. " She stepped back andlooked at me. "It looks much better there!" I turned round. "You are so beautiful to me, " I said. "Y-e-s, " she said, with her slow Colonial drawl; "I'm so glad. " We stood looking at each other. Then they came in and swept us away to dance. All the evening we did notcome near to each other. Only once, as she passed, she smiled at me. The next morning I left the town. I never saw her again. Years afterwards I heard she had married and gone to America; it may ormay not be so--but the rose--the rose is in the box still! When my faithin woman grows dim, and it seems that for want of love and magnanimityshe can play no part in any future heaven; then the scent of that smallwithered thing comes back:--spring cannot fail us. Matjesfontein, South Africa. III. "THE POLICY IN FAVOUR OF PROTECTION--". Was it Right?--Was it Wrong? A woman sat at her desk in the corner of a room; behind her a fire burntbrightly. Presently a servant came in and gave her a card. "Say I am busy and can see no one now. I have to finish this article bytwo o'clock. " The servant came back. The caller said she would only keep her a moment:it was necessary she should see her. The woman rose from her desk. "Tell the boy to wait. Ask the lady tocome in. " A young woman in a silk dress, with a cloak reaching to her feet, entered. She was tall and slight, with fair hair. "I knew you would not mind. I wished to see you so!" The woman offered her a seat by the fire. "May I loosen your cloak?--theroom is warm. " "I wanted so to come and see you. You are the only person in the worldwho could help me! I know you are so large, and generous, and kind toother women!" She sat down. Tears stood in her large blue eyes: she waspulling off her little gloves unconsciously. "You know Mr. --" (she mentioned the name of a well-known writer): "Iknow you meet him often in your work. I want you to do something forme!" The woman on the hearth-rug looked down at her. "I couldn't tell my father or my mother, or any one else; but I can tellyou, though I know so little of you. You know, last summer he came andstayed with us a month. I saw a great deal of him. I don't know if heliked me; I know he liked my singing, and we rode together--I liked himmore than any man I have ever seen. Oh, you know it isn't true that awoman can only like a man when he likes her; and I thought, perhaps, heliked me a little. Since we have been in town we have asked, but he hasnever come to see us. Perhaps people have been saying something to himabout me. You know him, you are always meeting him, couldn't you sayor do anything for me?" She looked up with her lips white and drawn. "I feel sometimes as if I were going mad! Oh, it is so terrible to bea woman!" The woman looked down at her. "Now I hear he likes anotherwoman. I don't know who she is, but they say she is so clever, andwrites. Oh, it is so terrible, I can't bear it. " The woman leaned her elbow against the mantelpiece, and her face againsther hand. She looked down into the fire. Then she turned and looked atthe younger woman. "Yes, " she said, "it is a very terrible thing to be awoman. " She was silent. She said with some difficulty: "Are you sure youlove him? Are you sure it is not only the feeling a young girl has foran older man who is celebrated, and of whom every one is talking?" "I have been nearly mad. I haven't slept for weeks!" She knit her littlehands together, till the jewelled rings almost cut into the fingers. "Heis everything to me; there is nothing else in the world. You, who are sogreat, and strong, and clever, and who care only for your work, and formen as your friends, you cannot understand what it is when one person iseverything to you, when there is nothing else in the world!" "And what do you want me to do?" "Oh, I don't know!" She looked up. "A woman knows what she can do. Don'ttell him that I love him. " She looked up again. "Just say something tohim. Oh, it's so terrible to be a woman; I can't do anything. You won'ttell him exactly that I love him? That's the thing that makes a man hatea woman, if you tell it him plainly. " "If I speak to him I must speak openly. He is my friend. I cannot fencewith him. I have never fenced with him in my own affairs. " She moved asthough she were going away from the fireplace, then she turned and said:"Have you thought of what love is between a man and a woman when itmeans marriage? That long, long life together, day after day, strippedof all romance and distance, living face to face: seeing each other asa man sees his own soul? Do you realize that the end of marriage is tomake the man and woman stronger than they were; and that if you cannot, when you are an old man and woman and sit by the fire, say, 'Life hasbeen a braver and a freer thing for us, because we passed it hand inhand, than if we had passed through it alone, ' it has failed? Do youcare for him enough to live for him, not tomorrow, but when he is anold, faded man, and you an old, faded woman? Can you forgive him hissins and his weaknesses, when they hurt you most? If he were to lie aquerulous invalid for twenty years, would you be able to fold him inyour arms all that time, and comfort him, as a mother comforts herlittle child?" The woman drew her breath heavily. "Oh, I love him absolutely! I would be glad to die, if only I could onceknow that he loved me better than anything in the world!" The woman stood looking down at her. "Have you never thought of thatother woman; whether she could not perhaps make his life as perfect asyou?" she asked, slowly. "Oh, no woman ever could be to him what I would be. I would live forhim. He belongs to me. " She bent herself forward, not crying, but hershoulders moving. "It is such a terrible thing to be a woman, to be ableto do nothing and say nothing!" The woman put her hand on her shoulder; the younger woman looked up intoher face; then the elder turned away and stood looking into thefire. There was such quiet, you could hear the clock tick above thewriting-table. The woman said: "There is one thing I can do for you. I do not know ifit will be of any use--I will do it. " She turned away. "Oh, you are so great and good, so beautiful, so different from otherwomen, who are always thinking only of themselves! Thank you so much. I know I can trust you. I couldn't have told my mother, or any one butyou. " "Now you must go; I have my work to finish. " The younger woman put her arms round her. "Oh, you are so good andbeautiful!" The silk dress and the fur cloak rustled out of the room. The woman who was left alone walked up and down, at last faster andfaster, till the drops stood on her forehead. After a time she went upto the table; there was written illegibly in a man's hand on a fragmentof manuscript paper: "Can I come to see you this afternoon?" Near it wasa closed and addressed envelope. She opened it. In it were written thewords: "Yes, please, come. " She tore it across and wrote the words: "No, I shall not be at liberty. " She closed them in an envelope and addressed them. Then she rolledup the manuscript on the table and rang the bell. She gave it to theservant. "Tell the boy to give this to his master, and say the articleends rather abruptly; they must state it is to be continued; I willfinish it tomorrow. As he passes No. 20 let him leave this note there. " The servant went out. She walked up and down with her hands folded aboveher head. ***** Two months after, the older woman stood before the fire. The door openedsuddenly, and the younger woman came in. "I had to come--I couldn't wait. You have heard, he was married thismorning? Oh, do you think it is true? Do help me!" She put out herhands. "Sit down. Yes, it is quite true. " "Oh, it is so terrible, and I didn't know anything! Did you ever sayanything to him?" She caught the woman's hands. "I never saw him again after the day you were here, --so I could notspeak to him, --but I did what I could. " She stood looking passively intothe fire. "And they say she is quite a child, only eighteen. They say he only sawher three times before he proposed to her. Do you think it is true?" "Yes, it is quite true. " "He can't love her. They say he's only marrying her for her rank and hermoney. " The woman turned quickly. "What right have you to say that? No one but I know him. What need hashe of any one's rank or wealth? He is greater than them all! Older womenmay have failed him; he has needed to turn to her beautiful, fresh, young life to compensate him. She is a woman whom any man might haveloved, so young and beautiful; her family are famed for their intellect. If he trains her, she may make him a better wife than any other womanwould have done. " "Oh, but I can't bear it--I can't bear it!" The younger woman sat downin the chair. "She will be his wife, and have his children. " "Yes. " The elder woman moved quickly. "One wants to have the child, andlay its head on one's breast and feed it. " She moved quickly. "It wouldnot matter if another woman bore it, if one had it to take care of. " Shemoved restlessly. "Oh, no, I couldn't bear it to be hers. When I think of her I feel as ifI were dying; all my fingers turn cold; I feel dead. Oh, you were onlyhis friend; you don't know!" The older spoke softly and quickly, "Don't you feel a little gentleto her when you think she's going to be his wife and the mother of hischild? I would like to put my arms round her and touch her once, if shewould let me. She is so beautiful, they say. " "Oh, I could never bear to see her; it would kill me. And they are sohappy together today! He is loving her so!" "Don't you want him to be happy?" The older woman looked down at her. "Have you never loved him, at all?" The younger woman's face was covered with her hands. "Oh, it's soterrible, so dark! and I shall go on living year after year, always inthis awful pain! Oh, if I could only die!" The older woman stood looking into the fire; then slowly and measuredlyshe said, "There are times, in life, when everything seems dark, whenthe brain reels, and we cannot see that there is anything but death. But, if we wait long enough, after long, long years, calm comes. It maybe we cannot say it was well; but we are contented, we accept the past. The struggle is ended. That day may come for you, perhaps sooner thanyou think. " She spoke slowly and with difficulty. "No, it can never come for me. If once I have loved a thing, I love itfor ever. I can never forget. " "Love is not the only end in life. There are other things to live for. " "Oh, yes, for you! To me love is everything!" "Now, you must go, dear. " The younger woman stood up. "It has been such a comfort to talk to you. I think I should have killed myself if I had not come. You help me so. Ishall always be grateful to you. " The older woman took her hand. "I want to ask something of you. " "What is it?" "I cannot quite explain to you. You will not understand. But there aretimes when something more terrible can come into a life than it shouldlose what it loves. If you have had a dream of what life ought to be, and you try to make it real, and you fail; and something you have killedout in your heart for long years wakes up and cries, 'Let each man playhis own game, and care nothing for the hand of his fellow! Each man forhimself. So the game must be played!' and you doubt all you have livedfor, and the ground seems washing out under your feet--. " She paused. "Such a time has come to me now. If you would promise me that if everanother woman comes to seek your help, you will give it to her, and tryto love her for my sake, I think it will help me. I think I should beable to keep my faith. " "Oh, I will do anything you ask me to. You are so good and great. " "Oh, good and great!--if you knew! Now go, dear. " "I have not kept you from your work, have I?" "No; I have not been working lately. Good-by, dear. " The younger woman went; and the elder knelt down by the chair, andwailed like a little child when you have struck it and it does not dareto cry loud. A year after; it was early spring again. The woman sat at her desk writing; behind her the fire burnt brightly. She was writing a leading article on the causes which in differingpeoples lead to the adoption of Free Trade or Protectionist principles. The woman wrote on quickly. After a while the servant entered and laid apile of letters on the table. "Tell the boy I shall have done in fifteenminutes. " She wrote on. Then she caught sight of the writing on one ofthe letters. She put down her pen, and opened it. It ran so:-- "Dear Friend, --I am writing to you, because I know you will rejoice tohear of my great happiness. Do you remember how you told me that day bythe fire to wait, and after long, long years I should see that all wasfor the best? That time has come sooner than we hoped. Last week in RomeI was married to the best, noblest, most large-hearted of men. We arenow in Florence together. You don't know how beautiful all life is tome. I know now that the old passion was only a girl's foolish dream. My husband is the first man I have ever truly loved. He loves me andunderstands me as no other man ever could. I am thankful that my dreamwas broken; God had better things in store for me. I don't hate thatwoman any more; I love every one! How are you, dear? We shall come andsee you as soon as we arrive in England. I always think of you so happyin your great work and helping other people. I don't think now it isterrible to be a woman; it is lovely. "I hope you are enjoying this beautiful spring weather. "Yours, always full of gratitude and love, "E--. " The woman read the letter: then she stood up and walked towards thefire. She did not re-read it, but stood with it open in her hand, looking down into the blaze. Her lips were drawn in at the corners. Presently she tore the letter up slowly, and watched the bits floatingdown one by one into the grate. Then she went back to her desk, andbegan to write, with her mouth still drawn in at the corners. After awhile she laid her arm on the paper and her head on her arm, and seemedto go to sleep there. Presently the servant knocked; the boy was waiting. "Tell him to waitten minutes more. " She took up her pen--"The Policy of the AustralianColonies in favour of Protection is easily understood--" shewaited--"when one considers the fact--the fact--;" then she finished thearticle. Cape Town, South Africa, 1892.