The little clock on the mantelpiece struck eight. The candle on the supper-table was burning down with a steady flame. James had never in all their life at Luguru been as late as this. It occurred to her that perhaps she was feeling nervous just for want of food. She decided that at the very worst she would not have to wait much longer, and that in any case it would be foolish to give way to her fancies. And then, at a moment when she was really feeling more secure, fear came to her, as swiftly and blindly as the moth which had blundered in out of the night, and all her bravery was extinguished. She left the light burning in the room and ran along the garden path to M‘Crae’s _banda_.
“I was frightened,” she told him, quite simply. And then she told him of the surprise at the church that morning; of how James had left her and locked himself in his room; how he had left the mission and had not yet returned. And when once she had begun to tell him these things, and had heard his grave replies in a voice that was steady and devoid of fear, she began to feel lighter and happier. When once she had managed to talk like this she found it wonderfully easy to go on, and in a little while she had unbosomed herself of the whole story of her meeting with Godovius, his entreaties and his threats. Until she had ended he did not speak; but she knew that it was with difficulty that he heard her through. At the end he said:
“You should have told me. It would have been more like you.”
“I don’t know . . .” she said. “Perhaps I was ashamed. I think I _was_ ashamed. At the suggestion . . . you know . . . that we were anything but friends.”
He gave a short laugh. “I’m not laughing at you,” he said quickly.
“I know you’re not. It was silly of me. I ought to have trusted you. I wanted to. But I was shy, I suppose. And shocked by the mistake that he’d made. I was afraid that you might suffer because of his mistaken idea. And I was selfish. I couldn’t bear the thought of your not being here: and I thought that I could somehow wait until things cleared up. I thought I could just keep it to myself and hold on.”
“You were wrong. It never pays to put things off. No doubt it was a shock for you to have it taken for granted that I had made love to you. I wouldn’t have you worried by that. I suppose I am old enough to be your father. You mustn’t think any more of that.”