Very strangely that voice reassured Sylvia though she had never heard it before in her life.  It did more; it sent such a rush of relief through her that she nearly laughed aloud.

She groped her way out into the passage, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from her.  “Come in, whoever you are!” she said.  “It is rather infernal certainly.  I’ll light a candle in a moment—­as soon as I can find some matches.”

She saw a dim, broad figure standing in front of her and heard a long, soft whistle of dismay.

“I beg your pardon, madam,” said the voice that had spoken such hearty invective a few seconds before.  “Sure, I had no idea I was overheard.  And I hope that I’ll not have prejudiced you at all with the violence of me language.  But it’s in the air of the country, so to speak.  And we all come to it in time.  If it’s a match that you’re wanting, I’ve got one in my pocket this minute which I’ll hand over with all the good will in the world if you’ll do me the favour to wait.”

Sylvia waited.  She knew the sort of face that went with that voice, and it did not surprise her when the red Irish visage and sandy brows beamed upon her above the flickering candle.  The laugh she had repressed a moment before rose to her lips.  There was something so comic in this man’s appearance just when she had been strung up for tragedy.

He looked at her with the eyes of a child, smiling good-humouredly at her mirth.  “Sure, you’re putting the joke on me,” he said.  “They all do it.  Where can I have strayed to?  Is this a fairy palace suddenly sprung up in the desert, and you the Queen of No Man’s Land come down from your mountain-top to give me shelter?”

She shook her head, still laughing, “No, I’ve never been to the mountain-top.  I’m only a farmer’s wife.”

“A farmer’s wife!” He regarded her with quizzical curiosity for a space.  “Is it Burke’s bride that you are?” he questioned.  “And is it Burke Ranger’s farm that I’ve blundered into after all?”

“I am Burke Ranger’s wife,” she told him.  “But I left off being a bride a long time ago.  We are all too busy out here to keep up sentimental nonsense of that sort.”

“And isn’t it the cynic that ye are entirely?” rejoined the visitor, broadly grinning.  “Sure, it’s time I introduced myself to the lady of the house.  I’m Donovan Kelly, late of His Majesty’s Imperial Yeomanry, and at present engaged in the peaceful avocation of mining for diamonds under the rubbish-heaps of Brennerstadt.”

Sylvia held out her hand.  There could be no standing upon ceremony with this man.  She hailed him instinctively as a friend.  There are some men in the world whom no woman can regard in any other light.

“I am very pleased to meet you,” she said, with simplicity.  “And I know Burke will be glad too that you have managed to make your way over here.  You haven’t chosen a very nice day for your visit.  What a ghastly ride you must have had!  What about your horse?”