Her breathing came quickly, nervously.  She felt oddly uncertain of herself, as if she had just come through a crisis that had bereft her of all her strength,

“Of course,” she said, not looking at him.  “Of course.”

He stood for a moment or two, watching her.  Then he moved to her side.

“I’m leaving you in charge,” he said, “But you won’t overdo it?  Promise me!”

She laughed a little.  The thought of his going was a vast relief to her at that moment.  She yearned to be alone, to readjust her life somehow before she met him again.  She wanted to rebuild her defences.  She wanted to be quite sure of herself.

“Oh, I shall take great care of myself,” she said.  “I’m very good at that.”

“I wonder,” said Burke, And then he laid his hand upon the flicking duster and stopped her quivering activity.  “Are you still—­hating me?” he said.

She stood motionless, and still her eyes avoided his.  “I’ll tell you,” she said, “when we meet again.”

“Does that mean that I am to go—­unforgiven?” he said.

Against her will she looked at him.  In spite of her, her lip trembled,

He put his arm round her.  “Does it?” he said.

“No,” she whispered back.

In that moment they were nearer than they had been through all the weeks of Guy’s illness, nearer possibly than they had ever been before.  It would have been so easy for Sylvia to lean upon that strong encircling arm, so easy that she wondered afterwards how she restrained the impulse to do so.  But the moment passed so quickly, sped by the sound of Kelly’s feet upon the stoep, and Burke’s arm pressed her close and then fell away.

There was neither disappointment nor annoyance on his face as he turned to meet his guest.  He was even smiling.

Sylvia recalled that smile afterwards—­the memory of it went with her through all the bitter hours that followed.

CHAPTER IX

FOR THE SAKE OF THE OLD LOVE

Kelly accompanied Burke when, after hurried preparation and consultation with Schafen, he finally took the rough road that wound by the kopje on his way to the Merstons’ farm.  He had not intended to prolong his visit over two days, and he proposed to conclude it now; for his leisure was limited, and he had undertaken to be back in Brennerstadt for the occasion of the diamond draw which he himself had organized, and which was to take place at the end of the week.  But at Burke’s request, as they rode upon their way, he promised to return to Blue Hill Farm for that night and the next also if Burke could not return sooner.  He did not mean to be absent for more than two nights.  His own affairs could not be neglected for longer, though he might decide to send Schafen over to help the Merstons if necessary.

“My wife can’t look after Guy single-handed,” he said.  “It’s not a woman’s job, and I can’t risk it.  I shall feel easier if you are there.”