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Schreiner, Olive, 1855-1920

"The Story of an African Farm, a novel"

He
ran to the dear feet and touched them with his hands; yes, he held them
fast! He lay down beside them. When he looked up the face was over him,
and the glorious eyes were loving him; and they two were there alone
together.
He laughed a deep laugh; then started up like one suddenly awakened from
sleep.
"Oh, God! He cried, "I cannot wait; I cannot wait! I want to die; I want
to see Him; I want to touch him. Let me die!" He folded his hands,
trembling. "How can I wait so long--for long, long years perhaps? I want
to die--to see Him. I will die any death. Oh, let me come!"
Weeping he bowed himself, and quivered from head to foot. After a long
while he lifted his head.
"Yes; I will wait; I will wait. But not long; do not let it be very long,
Jesus King. I want you; oh, I want you--soon, soon!" He sat still,
staring across the plain with his tearful eyes.
Service No. II.
In the front room of the farmhouse sat Tant Sannie in her elbow-chair. In
her hand was her great brass-clasped hymn-book, round her neck was a clean
white handkerchief, under her feet was a wooden stove. There too sat Em
and Lyndall, in clean pinafores and new shoes. There too was the spruce
Hottentot in a starched white kapje, and her husband on the other side of
the door, with his wool oiled and very much combed out, and staring at his
new leather boots.


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