Part 56 (1/2)

”I cannot understand,” he said, ”how Mrs. ---- could have asked you to shake hands with her.”

”Oh, I was wrong,” Hansie said. ”She meant it kindly. How could _she_ understand? I will apologise--to-morrow.”

It had been arranged that Hansie should spend a few days in London to see some friends before proceeding to Holland.

She found the mighty metropolis in the throes of preparation for an event of unparalleled magnificence.

Every sign of splendour and rejoicing was a fresh sword through the heart of our sorely tried young patriot.

The people with whom she stayed, old Pretoria friends, had not an inkling of what was pa.s.sing in her mind.

Their warm and loving greetings, their loud expressions of delight that the war had come to an end at last, were so many pangs added to her grief.

”You will come with us to the Coronation?” her hostess said; ”we have splendid reserved seats, and this event will be unparalleled in the history of England.”

Again the unfortunate girl found herself recoiling, taken by surprise; again she said:

”Oh, I _could not_! Not to save my life!”

”Not go to see the Coronation! I am surprised at you. Very few South African girls are lucky enough to benefit by such an opportunity. I must say I think it very narrow-minded of you. You disappoint me. The war is over now, and while we are all trying to promote a feeling of good-fellows.h.i.+p you nourish such an unworthy and narrow-minded spirit.”

Narrow-minded, unworthy!

The iron entered deep into her soul; and when she looks back now and takes a brief survey of what she suffered throughout those years, that moment stands out as one into which all the fears, the hopes, the agonies of one short lifetime had been crowded.

Sometimes the human heart, when tried beyond endurance, will reach a point where but a trifling incident, an unkind word, is needed to break down life's stronghold.

This point our heroine had reached.

Something pa.s.sed out of her soul, an undefinable something of which the zest for life is made, and as she felt the black waters of despair closing over her she almost gasped for breath.

She turned away.

”You will never understand. I think it very kind of you to make such plans for my enjoyment, but--to the Coronation of the English King I _will not go_. Leave me here--I have some writing to do--no need to be distressed on my account. My one regret is that my presence here, at such a time, should be a source of so much painfulness to us both.”

With cold courtesy the subject of the approaching Coronation was dropped, until the next day, when the appalling, the stupefying news of the postponement of the Coronation spread through the hushed streets of the great metropolis.

The King was dying, was perhaps already dead. The King had undergone a critical operation and his life still hung in the balance.

The King could not be crowned.

Already the black wings of Death seemed to be stretched over the mighty city, with its millions and millions of inhabitants. The mult.i.tude was waiting in hushed expectancy, in breathless suspense.

Hansie, walking through the streets with one of the men whose sympathy on board had been of such unspeakable comfort to her, never felt more unreal in her life. Her mind was in a maze, she groped about for words with which to clothe her thoughts, but groped in vain, for even the power of thought had been suspended for a time.

Her companion, glancing at her face, asked suddenly, curiously: