THE SOLUTION IS SEALED
It was a rather sobered Diana who
rode out the next morning to meet William van Hert,
and when she saw him she felt suddenly conscious of
herself in a way she had never done before and hoped
she never would again. The glow in his eyes made
it difficult for her to meet them, and they dismounted
and went almost in silence to their usual seat.
“You know, of course, what happened
last night,” he said, with ill-suppressed eagerness.
“It has seemed like weeks and months since;
every hour a week. I have not slept all night
with longing for the morning.”
He was looking at his very best:
another man almost since they last sat there; not
good-looking, no one would ever call van Hert good-looking,
but muscular and lean, with an air of virility and
force always alluring. A man destined to be a
leader in some way; one who must carry others along
with him, if only because of his enthusiasm and fervour.
The main point was, that he should carry them in a
useful, practical direction. And hitherto there
had been no special reason to hope this would be the
case; it seemed more probable that, for the sake of
making a noise in the world and gaining a following,
he would identify himself with policies which the older
and wiser men left alone; not from any indifference
to the influence he was likely to wield, but because
he was so full of warmth and intensity it must find
an outlet. Some men are like that, especially
politicians. They seem to be obsessed with the
idea that they must make a hit somehow at once and
come to the front now. And so they are
apt to seize upon the first available policy likely
to prove a good solid tub to stand and shout on; whether
it is a durable tub, or one certain to be to their
credit, is something of a side issue. The main
point is a tub big enough and strong enough to bear
them while they make the commotion and gain the hearing
they are bent upon. And this spirit, like most
spirits, may have its uses; it is not entirely to be
deprecated. It may bring home very forcibly to
the electors a weak spot that had otherwise been overlooked.
In listening to the shouter, they may perceive how
very entirely he is wrong; and, none the less, make
the useful discovery that he is a good shouter.
This then becomes the critical point. Having
gained his hearing, will he condescend to moderate
his views and listen to a little wisdom from older
and more experienced men; or will he be obtuse enough
to continue to stamp and shout on his tub, for fear
people will call him a turncoat, or a few, who really
do not matter, will leave off listening to him if he
grows less noisy? And it is then perhaps a great
politician is marred or made. Perhaps it often
depends very much upon the main influence that held
sway when the moment came to leave off shouting.
That moment had come for van Hert, and he had the
perspicacity to perceive it; though whether he would
have acted upon his wiser judgment, left entirely to
himself, it is impossible to say. It is, on the
whole, pleasanter to think that, just because he was
a clever, capable, sincere man and South Africa had
need of such, the God of nations placed the matter
beyond all doubt by sending the right influence across
his path.
Diana’s mocking spirit loved
to make game of heroics and big matters, but it was
an affectation and nothing more: as Meryl and
Henry Pym had long ago perceived, not van Hert himself
nor Meryl cared more at heart for the great questions
of the day affecting South Africa, and through her
the Empire itself, since every year shows more clearly
how tremendously England’s colonies must matter
to the mother country. The older and wiser men
were already beginning to shake their heads over the
grave and difficult problem of the white races and
the black; over the tremendous increase of the latter
in comparison, which threatened to swamp the white
man out of South Africa altogether. One thing
was obvious to all thinkers, the white races must
combine. Union must indeed be Union and not an
empty name. The Englishman and the Dutchman must
join hands and sink differences, not only for the common
good, but the common safety. So when Diana’s
practical spirit perceived how great and real an attraction
van Hert had for her, she did not try to put it from
her and struggle against it because he was a Dutchman.
The moment she was sure, and the course was clear,
she let herself go fearlessly; not as an act of sacrifice
at all, she was far too practical to have much faith
in a sacrifice such as Meryl had conceived, but because
she loved the man and believed in him, and had no
shadow of doubt as to his courage and sincerity if
he were but influenced to move in the right direction.
Well, he had stood on his tub and
done his shouting right well; and now he had a goodly
following and was the object of not a little execration,
which is a usual thing for tub-shouters, and does not
matter very much. What mattered was whether he
possessed the genius to keep his followers and carry
them along with him, after moderating his views and
coming into line with the older and wiser men.
Diana believed that he did, and as to be believed
in is a very strong aid to all men, there was very
little doubt that eventually the God of nations would
prove to have given South Africa a fine statesman,
even if he were built up upon a rabid politician.
And if the instrument used was a woman, has not a
great nation itself been built up through such instrumentality?
And here one pauses a moment to think
the old question, how often is a woman at the back
of a man’s greatness or a country’s or
any greatness whatsoever? Only these women do
not need to do any shouting, because, as a rule, they
only want to be heard by one. And when
the result is a fine edifice, they are still content
to go unnamed and unsung if that one be lauded
generously. For God made women in the beginning,
the best women of all, to want love and be content
with love, and care very little about fame. And
so they go quietly on their way, creating great results,
moving mountains, and saying very little about it.
It is that old heroic spirit Lamartine wrote about.
And there is a spark of it in the soul of every woman
waging her solitary fight on the outposts of the Empire,
whether she put new life and hope and spirit into
a miner’s cabin, or a farmer’s little wattle-and-daub
home, or in the heart of any servant of the Empire.
What the colonies owe to their women is so little
talked about, partly perhaps because words are all
too inadequate to express it, and also perhaps because
if the one is there to listen and the one
to love, many women want no recognition.
But all this time it only remains
to be said that Diana believed in van Hert and believed
in his work for her country, and that was why she
had been able to give her love so frankly and absolutely,
and was not in the least deterred by those mutterings
of execration which there is very little doubt she
intended shortly to put an end to for good and all;
for if she had entertained any doubts as to how much
he loved her and was ready to do for her, they must
have been swept away utterly out of sight after the
first moment of their meeting this morning. What
he had fought to keep out of his face before was now
flooding through it. Never at any moment, even
when he first loved Meryl, had he looked at her as
he now looked at Diana. In every pulse of her
being she felt he loved her, not perhaps with the calm,
strong love of her own countrymen, but with a fierceness
and intensity, inherited maybe from some French ancestor,
that appealed to her love of vigour. She at least
had level-headedness enough for the two.
But it would hardly have been Diana
to sit demurely and listen to his outpouring, now
that he might speak and she might hear. It was
far more natural that the very certainty of everything
should make her feel contrary and want to tantalise
him; particularly when, after his first question had
been answered with a quiet affirmative, he plunged
into the subject filling his heart without any preliminary,
and with all that quick enthusiasm of his bursting
its bounds.
“Then we need not say any more
about it. Why should we?... There is only
you and I now. It seems for the moment as if there
were no one else in the entire universe. But
I want the answer to that other question of mine”;
and he leaned near to her, with his whole attitude
a sort of inspired interrogation.
“What question?...”
A shade of lightness had crept into Diana’s voice;
the shadow of a smile into her eyes. She felt
on the verge of being a little unnerved, and a feigned
or real inconsequence was ever her refuge.
“The question you were not willing
to answer yesterday, and which I told you I should
ask again to-day. You said that you had asked
me what I thought of a man who married a woman when
he did not love her. And I said that was not
what you had asked. Do you remember the original
question, or must I tell you what it was?”
“I don’t remember anything
about it. I’m afraid I’m rather given
to asking questions.”
“That means I must tell you.
Diana, what you asked me was, what did I think of
a man who married one woman and loved another?
Now, I want to know how and when you discovered that
I loved another?...”
“It was the obvious conclusion” studying
the toe of her smart riding-boot with exaggerated
interest. “Otherwise you must have loved
Meryl; you could not help it.”
“I see.” The smile
dawned in his eyes now. “And was it equally
obvious who the other woman was?”
She glanced away to hide her tell-tale
mouth. “It might have been if it had interested
me.”
“But, of course, it didn’t?...”
and he laughed a low, happy laugh.
“Not in the least. Why should it?...”
“Ah, why?...” and his
hand suddenly closed over hers, and at the strong,
possessive touch the magnetism of the man made her
blood race through her veins. She tried to draw
her hand away, but he only held it more tightly, and
his face was very engaging as he said, “I’ve
a good mind not to tell you who the other woman is
as you are not interested.”
“Then I shall conclude she will
not have anything to do with you,” came the
quick retort. And then her fascinating mouth twitched
at the corners in a way that threatened to undo van
Hert entirely. He looked away with a half-fierce
expression. “If you don’t want me
to crush you in my arms out here in a public road,
don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?...”
innocently; and then they both laughed.
When they were serious again his voice
sounded a deeper and more forceful note. “Dearest,”
he said, still imprisoning her hand, “it seems
superfluous for me to tell you how much I love that
other woman, as superfluous as to name her. I
seem as if I had neither a thought nor an idea nor
a feeling that does not love her.”
“Then let us hope she is not
a stiff-necked Britisher,” quoth Diana, still
as if a little afraid to be serious.
“Ah!...” and he raised
her hand to his lips. “I believe you will
make me love the whole race.”
“That would complicate matters
exceedingly for you,” with a mischievous taunt
in her eyes. “You seem to have hated them
so very satisfactorily up to now. What shall
you say to your colleagues the next time they are
expecting you at one of their fiery denunciation meetings?...
I have married a wife, an English one, therefore I
cannot come?...”
“Shall I have married her?...”
and he looked hard into her face, blissfully indifferent
to her shafts.
“Married whom?...” she asked, provokingly.
He clenched his teeth together.
“I feel as if I could shake you!...” and
he glanced round to see if anyone were in sight.
“O, if you’re going to
be that sort of a tyrant!...” Diana began.
But she got no further. No one was in sight,
not even the boy with the horses. And van Hert
just gathered her into his arms and crushed her for
the sheer joy of it until she cried for mercy.
“Say you will be good and treat me with proper
respect,” he demanded before he released her,
and Diana was compelled to promise.
“But I won’t marry you,”
she added, wickedly, the moment she was free.
And then to save herself from a second undignified
surrender she had to capitulate quickly, and add,
“At least, not before next week.”
Then she raised her eyes, shining
with happiness, to his. “Meinheer van Hert,
if my memory serves me rightly, you have not yet asked
me the most important question of all.”
He raised her hand again to his lips,
with a movement of reverence, and said, very simply,
“Diana, I love you with all my heart and soul
and strength; will you do me the honour to become my
wife?”
And there was a little warm glisten
in her eyes as she answered, “Yes, dear; I am
ready to take the long trek with you.”
A little later she went home with
an air of quiet radiance that told Meryl all she needed
to know the moment she set eyes on her, and her embrace
was full of warmest affection.
Only Aunt Emily seemed thoroughly
perplexed, and not able to entirely grasp the happy
aspect of affairs when she heard it all for the first
time.
“How extraordinary!...”
she exclaimed; and then, with an air full of mournful
reproach, she looked at Diana and added, “I told
you something dreadful would happen, my dear, if you
spoke of the wedding so strangely.”
“Yes, aunty, so you did! and
it was very clever of you,” Diana replied.
“But, of course, you ought to have warned me
before I said it. Now, you see, I’ve got
caught in the net myself. Ah well!...” she
finished comically, “I can bear it.”
And Meryl’s low laughter, as
she hastened to soothe poor Aunt Emily’s wounded
feelings, had a happier note than it had known for
many a day.
“I don’t think I quite
understand,” continued the perplexed lady.
“It reminds me of a story I once heard about
the aunt of a friend of my father’s, that is
to say, the aunt of a friend of your grandfather’s....”
“Yes, I remember,” said
the incorrigible; “but she didn’t do it
in the end, you know. And, anyhow, the great
question just now is, having taken over the bridegroom,
ought I to take over the wedding presents as well?...”
“Of course, they must all be
sent back,” Aunt Emily replied, with great gravity.
“Dear me, what a pity!... What a pity!...
And he is really quite a nice man, although he is
Dutch.”
“O, do you really think so?...”
Diana asked, and went laughing out of the room.