Each drop you could
hear fall like a little silver bell. There was one among the trees on the
bank that stood cut out against the white sky. All the other trees were
silent; but this one shook and trembled against the sky. Everything else
was still; but those leaves were quivering, quivering. I stood on the
sand; I could not go away. When it was quite dark, and the stars had come,
I crept out. Does it seem strange to you that it should have made me so
happy? It is because I cannot tell you how near I felt to things that we
cannot see but we always feel. Tonight has been a wild, stormy night. I
have been walking across the plain for hours in the dark. I have liked the
wind, because I have seemed forcing my way through to you. I knew you were
not here, but I would hear of you. When I used to sit on the transport
wagon half-sleeping, I used to start awake because your hands were on me.
In my lodgings, many nights I have blown the light out, and sat in the
dark, that I might see your face start out more distinctly. Sometimes it
was the little girl's face who used to come to me behind the kopje when I
minded sheep, and sit by me in her blue pinafore; sometimes it was older.
I love both. I am very helpless; I shall never do anything; but you will
work, and I will take your work for mine. Sometimes such a sudden gladness
seizes me when I remember that somewhere in the world you are living and
working.
Pages:
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352