Matheson

“ Matheson had disarmed their antagonism by reason of his moderation. Even Krige opened out as the days passed, and seemed to find some pleasure in the other man’s company. The furtive distrust, so noticeable at first, disappeared from his manner entirely. He became altogether more sociable, and lost much of his taciturnity and blossomed into unexpected speech at times, a thing as surprising and unlooked-for as the sudden flowering of the Karroo following its period of barrenness. ”

“ A sense of utter futility gripped Matheson, a sort of sick disappointment more distressing than physical nausea. His passion for Honor assumed a new significance: it became less personal—more of a formal worship of beauty for beauty’s sake than the love of man for woman for simple and primitive ends. ”

“ Any man or woman who stood between him and his great goal was to be thrust aside or used as a stepping-stone. Matheson, for instance—he was to be used. There must be something underlying Matheson's sudden access of scruples—what was it? A case of cherchez la femme? Or political ambitions, perhaps? If he could arrive at the motive, it might open up a new avenue for persuasion. [Pg 15]
He searched the silhouette of the man at the window for an answer to the riddle. But Matheson's face was set, and the answer to the riddle was such as Lars Larssen could never have guessed. ”

“ Matheson looked back towards the rondavel, remembering now that they were moving the few things he had brought with him and which he had forgotten to pack. He was about to tell the Kaffir to return in order to fetch his possessions when he became aware of Leentje Nel’s figure in the distance, running towards them, and changed his mind. The Dutchwoman gesticulated violently, and shouted to Butter Tom to stop. Butter Tom heard her, and looked back; then, with his whip arm upraised, he glanced inquiringly at the baas’ imperturbable face.
“Drive on,” Matheson commanded. ”

“ Oom Koos’ next remark settled his indecision.
“You are a friend of Mr Holman, I hear? He is also my very good friend.”
Matheson faced him more directly.
“I am no friend of Mr Holman,” he replied. “I have some acquaintance with him. The little I know of him does not reflect to his credit.”
The big Dutchman evinced surprise, but of so mild a nature and untinged with any resentment, that it struck Matheson the surprise was not altogether genuine.
“So! You amaze me, Mr Matheson. I have always believed that to be a very good man,” he declared. “It is a proof that men are not lightly to be trusted. ”

“ But the land survives these things; only man, with his paltry ambitions and his insignificant span, goes under, paying for the folly of others with all that he has to give. It’s senseless, this business of fighting—a puerile defiance of the laws of life.”
“And yet,” Matheson said, “you and I are drawn into it.”
Nel smiled swiftly.
“Yes; you and I are drawn in. And if we have to pay the full price we shall consider the end worth the sacrifice. I recognise sincerity, Mr Matheson, when I meet it. From that first morning when you visited my rondavel I knew that we should be friends. ”

“ Before life had bruised her she had possibly been a very entertaining woman. She possessed still a certain charm, and had an alert way of expressing herself which appealed to the listener. Matheson was conscious primarily of an immense relief. He had rather dreaded this meeting with Brenda’s mother. Why he should have expected anything so wildly improbable he could not tell, but he had anticipated a replica of Mrs Aplin. ”

“ Kenneth Matheson—a gentleman well known as a master-builder in the west of Scotland—that in erecting some hanging stairs of polished stone, ornamented in front and at the outer edge by the common fillet and torus, his ordinary workmen used to complete for him their one step a-piece per day, and David Fraser his three steps, finished equally well. It is easily conceivable how, in the higher walks of art, one man should excel a thousand—nay, how he should have neither competitor when living, nor successor when dead. ”

“ After a while Mynheer Marais came out and joined him, lowering his great bulk with heavy cautiousness into one of the cane chairs.
“You take your ease,” he said. “That is well in this country. It is very warm, eh?”
“A Turkish bath would seem cool by comparison,” Matheson replied.
“So! You like the heat? ... No!” Oom Koos chuckled, and mopped the perspiration from his florid brow. “It makes some men thin, while others prow fat—according how they take their ease. But you like the country?”
“Yes; the country’s all right,” Matheson replied without enthusiasm. ”

“ Nel looked hard at him, looked from his face to his clothes; and Matheson felt that the shrewd eyes were mutely inquiring why he also was not in uniform.
“I’ve been in Cape Town only a few days,” Nel volunteered. “I’m following Botha wherever he leads. His lead is straight always, and for the good of the country. Cornelius can’t see that—yet.”
“So he has joined the rebellion?” Matheson said.
“Yes. He’s with his commando—and Andreas Krige. They have joined Maritz. It’s a bad business. One cannot help feeling sorry for men who deliberately cut their own throats. ”

“ Honor dismounted and went inside, and Matheson took the horses to the stable, a privilege he had insisted upon after the first ride, off-saddled, and then returned to the house to find the newcomer smoking a big calabash pipe near the open window of the living-room, sending heavy wreaths of blue smoke into the air through which his big face looked serenely like a setting sun obscured by clouds. ”

“ Matheson, whose learning was varied rather than profound, was a conspicuous representative of liberal theology. Despite his blindness, he was invariably radiant and cheerful. He died at Avenell House, North Berwick, after a brief illness, on 28 Aug. 1906, and was buried in the family vault in Glasgow Necropolis on 1 Sept. He was unmarried. He shared his home with his eldest sister, Jane Gray Matheson, to whom he attributed much of his happiness and success. ”

“ Matheson's idea was a revolutionary one—a master-idea like a master-patent. It held limitless possibilities for the alleviation of human pain and suffering.
It was an idea to which a man might well devote his whole intellect and energies.
Some months before, the financier had bought, in the name of John Rivière, a tumbledown villa on the outskirts of Neuilly. In it he had fitted up a research laboratory in which to pursue the experimental end of the problem which had such vital interest for him. ”

“ Matheson is a man of high ideals. But he tangled up his life pretty badly on the night of March 14th, when he tried to cut loose from his old career. It was a [Pg 281] mistake. We've both made mistakes, he and I. The unfortunate part is that the consequences don't fall on us. They fall on Mrs Matheson and yourself. You note that I place Mrs Matheson before yourself? That's deliberate."
Again he paused, but Elaine did not make any comment. She guessed now what Larssen had come to say to her, and a shiver of fear went through her. Not fear of Larssen as a man, but as a spokesman for Fate. ”

“ Oom Koos farmed two thousand morgen and principally ran goats on the land. At Honor’s speech his face lost its amiable complacency, his expression darkened.
“That is all the English care for,” he said abruptly—“to make big holes in the ground and take the gold and leave the holes. Ja.”
“Miss Krige does me an injustice,” Matheson protested. “The mines lured me only for a brief while. Engineering is my profession. I go back to it when I leave here.”
“So!” remarked Oom Koos, and smoked reflectively. “Do you make a long stay at Benfontein?” he asked.
“I have made a long stay,” Matheson answered. ”

“ Innellan, because of its beautiful situation and bracing air, had become a favourite summer resort, and to these attractions was added George Matheson's fame as a preacher. People came from far and near to hear him, and none ever went away disappointed.
What a picture it is to think of that blind man, standing there in his pulpit, instructing and comforting people who had perfect eyesight and seemed more favoured than he. Yet in all his sermons and in his conversation, there was cheerfulness and gratitude to God. ”

“ No woman who felt so bitterly against his country could turn so soft a gaze upon an Englishman.
“You are a little startling in your vehemence, Honor,” Freidja Krige observed, speaking for the first time since her sister’s advent had snapped the desultory general conversation, which Matheson had found so unenlivening, and flung the bombshell of her complaining into the void. ”

“ She regarded Matheson quite seriously, with a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. “They play games... every game... well. What more is required of a girl? All this nonsense about higher education... It’s so unnecessary. And study is bad for the eyes; it makes girls frown; and a girl with a frown doesn’t look so much studious as bad tempered. Let them play games and look nice; that’s all that is requisite.”
“It’s the sort of idea I started out with,” Matheson returned, beating his tennis boot softly with his racquet and idly watching the pipe-clay rise in little clouds. ”

“ Dr. MacDuff of Sandyford church, Glasgow, and on 8 April 1868 became minister of Innellan church on the shores of the Firth of Clyde, then a chapel of ease in the parish of Dunoon, but through Matheson's efforts soon erected into a parish church. There Matheson was minister for eighteen years, and his preaching gifts rapidly matured. For a time he grew dissatisfied with the calvinistic theology in which he was brought up, and according to his own account was inclined to reject all religion (cf. Life of Matheson, pp. 121-2) . But a study of the Hegelian philosophy saved him from agnosticism. ”

“ But Matheson, though he had no doubt of Brenda’s love, was not so confident of winning her as her mother believed. In all the weeks of their renewed friendship he had not uttered one word of love to her, had attempted none of those affectionate familiarities he had practised during the early days of their acquaintance. ”

“ Matheson felt surprised, possibly he showed it. “No; I’m not tired of the farm. I thought I had made that clear. But I do not wish to outstay my welcome, and I have been here two weeks.”
“If you can stay a little longer,” Krige observed, “I shall have a message which I shall be glad for you to carry to Mr Holman. We will be sorry when you leave Benfontein. There is no need for haste unless you wish to go.”
That was precisely what Matheson did not wish; he was very willing to remain as long as they showed equal willingness to have his company. ”

“ Spendthrift, bankrupt, schemer as he was, ashamed of his past, and hopeless as to his future unless he could win this girl and her fortune, he was almost ready to give up his pursuit of them.
"She is far too good to be linked for life with such a man as I am," he thought. "I am half inclined to go to her, to tell her all, and to ask her to take my boy and make of him a better man than his father. Matheson would help her, and I would pledge myself to go away and never again to reclaim Ralph, or intrude on her presence. ”

“ Memory ranks with the immortals: it is vain to attempt to bury what cannot die.
Matheson thrust these reminiscent thoughts from him as he travelled northward, and tried to concentrate upon the immediate prospect of his meeting with Holman. It was his intention to hire a horse at De Aar and ride out to Nel’s farm and take possession of the rondavel. A saddle horse would be a necessity to him; he could not appropriate to his use any of Cornelius Nel’s horses. It was moreover possible that the horses on the farm had been commandeered, and had been taken when their master left to join Maritz. ”

“ Matheson explained that the rondavel had interested him, that Mr Herman Nel had kindly invited him to breakfast, and he had been glad to accept Mrs Nel laughed when he finished speaking.
“Ach! Herman lives like the Kaffirs,” she said. “There is never anything to eat by his house. You will be hungry just now.” ”

“ Lars Larssen knew that Clifford Matheson had the habit of carrying a small typewriter with him on his journeys, in order to get through correspondence while on trains and steamers. Many busy men carry them. This habit of Matheson's was exceedingly useful for his present purpose. The letter that Arthur Dean was to post off at Cherbourg—one to the Paris office of Clifford Matheson and one of similar purport to the London office—would only need the signature in holograph. ”

“ Matheson replied, “beyond what I have stated, and the further fact that you have been carrying on this underhand intrigue for years. What your game is remains to be seen. You have got some stake in this. It isn’t just philanthropy and sympathy with the poor Boer that actuates you. Time will show, perhaps. In the meanwhile with men of Herman Nel’s type in the country, I don’t think you will accomplish much. ”

“ A man who has a life’s lease of his homestead doesn’t take much account of the landlord. You haven’t come yet to feel that way?”
“No. I don’t suppose an Englishman ever does.” Matheson glanced at his watch. “I’ll have to be going,” he said, and laughed a little consciously. “I’ve an engagement for three, and am overdue now.”
He stood up. Nel rose with him. For a second or so they remained still in the path steadily regarding one another.
“I’m going to be married,” Matheson said abruptly—“in three weeks’ time.”
“Yes!” Nel’s gaze was searching. “I’m glad to hear it, Mr Matheson,” he said. ”