# The Little Karoo/Chapter 6

​VI: The Pastor's Daughter
I WAS teaching school for Miss Cherry in Platkops dorp when Niccoline Johanna told me her love-story. Niccoline lived then in the old Bergh house opposite Miss Cherry's garden, and Christoffeline, her little adopted niece, lived with her. Christoffeline was one of my pupils, and it was because of this, I think, that Niccoline made me her friend. Niccoline was a very silent woman, but, like many silent women, as I came afterwards to learn, she could at times speak very freely of all that was on her mind. As we sat sewing together one afternoon, re-making a little white dress for her niece, she said to me suddenly:
"Tell me now! Whose child do they say Christoffeline is?"
"Why, Niccoline," I cried, "she is your ​uncle Han's child, and her mother died when she was born!"
And Niccoline, putting down her work and looking out across the garden, answered: "She is not my uncle Hans's child. My uncle Hans had no child. She is Paul Marais's child. Wait! I will now tell you!"
And here is what she told me.
When my father was the pastor of Platkops dorp, and I was still a young girl, Paul Marais came down from the Caroline district to farm with old Jan Cloete on the Ghamka river. My father, who had also come from the Caroline district, knew the parents of Paul Marais, and when he came to the dorp the young man would come to see my father at the parsonage. The first time that he came Jan Cloete brought him. Jan Cloete talked with my parents, and I remember yet how his beard waggled, and Paul Marais talked with me. He told me that day that his grandmother had been an Englishwoman. He was very proud of this and made me talk Eng​lish for exercise. Every time that he came after that he spoke of his grandmother and made me talk English. He was very earnest about it. He was like that about everything that he did. It mattered terribly to Paul that his grandmother had been English, and he made it matter also to me. Yes, he was like that. He nearly always got what he wanted and made you want him to get it. My father was not like that. The only thing that my father had wanted for himself was a daughter and it was not until he had been many years in Platkops that I was born. And then my mother gave me a man's name after my father himself—Niccoline Johanna for Niklaas Jan.
My mother was a very quick-tempered woman and sometimes my father's goodness and patience would drive her nearly mad. My father was for ever giving his things away and trusting in the Lord. My mother could not so easily trust in the Lord, and sometimes she would say very bitter things to my father ​about his patience and his faith, and about the saints in the Bible. And she would say that she who ought to have married Peter had married Moses. My mother could never like Moses. Jacob also she hated, and I remember yet how she would make me cry when she read me the story of Esau crying for the blessing that Jacob had stolen. And yet though she was always quarrelling with my father about the saints in the Bible I know now that my mother was a good woman. It was her illness that made her so bitter and so unhappy, and so afraid for the future. We did not know that she was ill, but she knew, and the year that Paul Marais came she said many terrible things to my father and me, and not anything that we could do would please her. When Paul Marais asked me to marry him I thought at once how glad I should be to get away from my mother. Yes, I loved Paul with all my heart, and yet my love for him made me cruel towards my mother, and I thought that.
​Paul's father had bought for him by now a farm in the Transvaal and we were to be married at once and go up-country. I was glad it was to be in the Transvaal. It would take my mother seven days to get to Paul's farm from Platkops dorp, and God forgive me, but when Paul asked me to marry him I thought at once of that. It was as if it must kill me if I could not be alone with Paul. Yes, love is like that—beautiful and cruel and selfish and bitter, and who can tell where the one begins and the other ends?
When it was all settled between Paul and me I went to my mother to tell her. My mother was busy that day in the little room where she kept her linen. I went to her there and closed the door and said: "Ma, I am going to marry Paul Marais. His father has bought him a farm in the Transvaal and I am going to marry him."
My mother let fall her work and looked up at me. She did not speak, but when I raised my voice and said again: "I am going ​to marry Paul Marais," she pushed aside her work and put her head on the table and cried like a child that is tired and can go no further. It frightened me to hear her, and because I was frightened I was even more cruel. I said to her: "Ma, cry if you like, but I am going to marry Paul Marais. His father has got him a farm in the Transvaal, and I am going to marry him."
My mother rose from her chair, and she, who had never yet pleaded with me about anything, held out her hands towards me and said:
"Niccoline, do not leave me!"
And God forgive me, but even as she spoke I drew back against the wall and cried: "But ma! I am going to marry Paul Marais!"
For a moment my mother looked at me and then, quickly, she began to undo her bodice. It had many buttons and she breathed hard, like a horse. I thought to myself, "Surely my mother is now going mad, but I shall marry Paul Marais and live with him in the ​Transvaal.” . . . Yes, I thought that. . . . My mother undid her slip and pulled down her chemise. And I knew then what it was that she hid there.
My mother said: "Look, Niccoline!"
But I could not look, and she said again: "Niccoline, in six months I shall be dead."
And I heard, but could not speak.
My mother said at last: "My child, when I am dead and you are with Paul Marais in the Transvaal how will it go with your pa? Your pa is a saint, but like all the saints he is also a fool. When I am dead and you are with Paul in the Transvaal how will it go with him?”
Well I knew how it would go with him! My father was but a child in the ways of the world and never would he learn to care for himself. Well I knew how it would go with him! And speaking no word to my mother I left her and went to my own room. Long, long I sat there, and though it was the night of the Bible-class I did not go. Only when ​Page:The Little Karoo (1925).djvu/136 ​Page:The Little Karoo (1925).djvu/137 ​Page:The Little Karoo (1925).djvu/138 ​Page:The Little Karoo (1925).djvu/139 ​Page:The Little Karoo (1925).djvu/140 ​Page:The Little Karoo (1925).djvu/141 ​Page:The Little Karoo (1925).djvu/142 ​Page:The Little Karoo (1925).djvu/143 ​Page:The Little Karoo (1925).djvu/144 ​Page:The Little Karoo (1925).djvu/145 ​Page:The Little Karoo (1925).djvu/146 ​Page:The Little Karoo (1925).djvu/147 ​Page:The Little Karoo (1925).djvu/148 ​Page:The Little Karoo (1925).djvu/149 ​Page:The Little Karoo (1925).djvu/150