Part 14 (2/2)
”If it breaks half of her heart,” I replied, ”it will mend the other half, for now her filial affection can't force her to marry Rodd, and that is where you are in luck's way.”
Then I told him all the story.
”Was he murdered or did he commit suicide?” he asked when I had finished.
”I don't know, and to tell you the truth I don't want to know; nor will you if you are wise, unless knowledge is forced upon you. It is enough that he is dead, and for his daughter's sake the less the circ.u.mstances of his end are examined into the better.”
”Poor Heda!” he said again, ”who will tell her? I can't. You found him, Allan.”
”I expected that job would be my share of the business, Ans...o...b... Well, the sooner it is over the better. Now dress yourself and come on to the stoep.”
Then I left him and next minute met Heda's fat, half-breed maid, a stupid but good sort of a woman who was called Kaatje, emerging from her mistress's room with a jug, to fetch hot water, I suppose.
”Kaatje,” I said, ”go back and tell the Missie Heda that I want to speak to her as soon as I can. Never mind the hot water, but stop and help her to dress.”
She began to grumble a little in a good-natured way, but something in my eye stopped her and she went back into the room. Ten minutes later Heda was by my side.
”What is it, Mr. Quatermain?” she asked. ”I feel sure that something dreadful has happened.”
”It has, my dear,” I answered, ”that is, if death is dreadful.
Your father died last night.”
”Oh!” she said, ”oh!” and sank back on to the seat.
”Bear up,” I went on, ”we must all die one day, and he had reached the full age of man.”
”But I loved him,” she moaned. ”He had many faults I know, still I loved him.”
”It is the lot of life, Heda, that we should lose what we love.
Be thankful, therefore, that you have some one left to love.”
”Yes, thank G.o.d! that's true. If it had been him-no, it's wicked to say that.”
Then I told her the story, and while I was doing so, Ans...o...b.. joined us, walking by aid of his stick. Also I showed them both Marnham's letter to me and the will, but the other bit of paper I did not speak of or show.
She sat very pale and quiet and listened till I had done. Then she said-
”I should like to see him.”
”Perhaps it is as well,” I answered. ”If you can bear it, come at once, and do you come also, Ans...o...b...”
We went to the room, Ans...o...b.. and Heda holding each other by the hand. I unlocked the door and, entering, threw open a shutter. There sat the dead man as I had left him, only his head had fallen over a little. She gazed at him, trembling, then advanced and kissed his cold forehead, muttering,
”Good-bye, father. Oh! good-bye, father.”
A thought struck me, and I asked-
<script>