Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1900-05-24
CHAPTER XVI.

melancholy seeming to rest over his
soul. His house was Il little square
daub and waffle building, far out in
the "karroo," two miles from the
homestead 1t was covered outside
with a somber coating of brown mud,
two little panes being let into the walls
for windows. Behind it were the
"sheep kraals" and to the right large
dam, now principally containing baked
mud Far off the little "kopje' con-
cealed the homestead and was not it
self an object conspicuous enough to
relieve the dreary monotony of the
landscape.
Before the door sat Gregory Rose in
his shirt sleeves, on a camp stool, and
ever and anon he sighed deeply. There
was that in his countenance for which
even his depressing circumstances fail
ed to account. Again and again he look
ed at the little "kopje," at the milk
pail at his side and at the brown pony,
who n short way off cropped the dry
bushes-and sighed.
Presently he rose and went Into his
house. 1t was one tiny room, the
whitewashed walls profusely covered
with prints cut from The Illustrated
London News. and in which there was
n noticeable preponderance of female
faces and figures. a stretcher filed
one end Of the hut and n rack for
a gun ana Il little hanging looking
glass diversified the gable opposite,
while In the center stood chair and
table All was scrupulously neat and
clean. for Gregory kept a little duster
folded in the corner of his table drawer,
lust as he had seen his mother do. and
every morning before Ec went out he
said his prayers and made his bed and
busted the table and the legs of the
chairs. and even the pictures on the
wall and the gun rack.
On this hot afternoon he took from
beneath his pillow watch bag made
By his sister Jemima and took out the
watch Only half past 4. With sup
pressed groan he dropped it back and
sat down beside the table. Half past 1.
Presently he reused himself. He would
write to his sister Jemima. He always
wrote to her when he was miserable.
She was his safety valve. He forgot
her when he was happy, but he used
her when he was wretched.
He took out ink and paper. There
was a family crest and motto on the
latter. for the Roses since coming to
the colony had discovered that they
were of distinguished lineage. Old
Rose himself, an honest English farm
er, knew nothing of his noble descent,
but his wife daughter knew-espe-
cially his daughter. There were Roses
in England who kept n park and dated
from the conquest So the colonial
Rose farm became Rose manor in re-
membrance of the ancestral domain,
and the claim of the Roses to noble
blood was cstablished--in their minds
at least.
Gregory took up one of the white,
crested sheets, but on deeper reflec-
ton he determined to take a pink one,
as more suitable to the state of his
feelings. He began:
Kopje Alone. Monday Afternoon.
My Dear Jemiua-
Then he looked up into the little
glass opposite. 1t was a youthful face
reflected there, with curling brown
beard and hair, but in the dark blue
eyes there was look of languid long
ing that touched him. He redipped
his pen and wrote:
When look up into the little glass that hangs
opposite me, wonder If that changed and sad
face
Here he sat still and reflected. 1t
4. . I.
ceited or unmanly to be looking at his
own face in the glass. No. that would
not do. SO he looked for another pink
sheet and began again.
Kopie Alone, Monday Afternoon.
Dear sistcf-It is hardly six months since left
you To come to this spot, yet could you now see
! know what you would say. ! know what
mother would say, "Can that be our Grcg-that
thing with the strange look in his eyes?''
Yes, Jemima, it is your Greg, and the change
has been coming over me ever since ! came here,
but 1t is greatest since yesterday. You know
what sorrows ! have passed through, Jemima;
how unjustly was always treated at school, the
masters keeping me back and calling me a block
| head though, as they themselves allowed, / had
the best memory OF any boy in the school and
could repeat whole books from beginning TO end.
You know how cruelty father always used me,
calling me a noodle and a milk sop just because
he COuldnt understand my nnc nature. lou
know how he has made a farmer Of me instead
OF q minister, as | ought to have been You
know 1t all, Jemima, and how have borne 1t all,
not as a woman, who whnes for every touch, but
as a should-in silence.
But there are things, there Is thing, which
the soul longs to pour forth into a kindred ear.
Dear sister, have you ever known what 1t is to
keep wanting and wanting and wanting to kiss
some ones mouth, and you may not to touch
some ones hand, and you cannot? l in love,
Jemima.
The old Dutch woman from whom 1 hire this
place has little stepdaughter. and her name be-
/ gins with L.
She is English. do not know how her father
came 10 marry a Boer woman. 1t makes me feel
so strange to put down that letter that l can
hardly go writing-E. I've loved her ever
since / came here. For weeks l have not been
able to cat drink. My very tobacco when
smoke, has taste. and l remain for no
more than five minutes in one place and some
times feel though were really going mad.
Every evening ! go there to fetch my milk.
Yesterday she gave me some coffee. The spoon
fell on the ground. She picked it up. When
abe gave 1t me, her finger touched mine. Je-
| NINA, do not know II fanced it-I shiyered
| hot, and she shivered tool thought: "It is all
! right. She will be mine She loves mel' Just
| then, Jemma, in fellow, great, coarse
| fellow, German-a ridiculous fellow, with curls
| right down to his shoulders. 1t makes one sick
/
| BOer woman's and n low. vulgar, uneducated
| thing that's never been to boarding school in
| his life. lie had been to the next farm seeking
| sheep. When he came in, she said: Good even
| ing, Waldo. Have some coffee" and she kissed
him.
| All last night l heard nothing else but 'Haye
some coffee; have some coffee" II ! went to
| sleep for a moment, | dreamed that her finger
| pressing mine, but when l woke with a
start | heard her say: Good evening, Waldo
| Have some coffee"
| Is this madness2
| have not eaten a mouthful today. This even
| ing ! go and propose to her II she refuses me,
| l shall go and kill myself tomorrow There Is a
| dam Of water close by. The sheep have drunk
most Of it up but there is still enough, il tic
| stone to my neck.
| 1t is a choice between death and madness. l
! endure more. II this should be the last
! letter you ever get from me, think Of me ten
| derly and f7r-i9. me. without her life would be
| a bowling Wilderness a long tribuation. She is
| my affinity; the one love Of my life, Of my youth,
| Of my manhood my sunshine. my God given
| blossom.
They never loved who dreamed that they loved
| And who saith 4 loved once
Not angels, whose deep eyes look down through
| realms Of lightr
| Your disconsol9tc brother, what is, in all
probability, the last and distracted night Of his
| life, GEEGOW NAzIASzES ROSE.
| +. S.-Tcl mother to take care Of my pearl
studs. / LETT them in the wash hand stand draw
| er. Don't let the children get hold Of them
It'll 81. Il "a. 60. Ff