Em set to work busily to prepare her own household linen and wedding garments. Gregory was with her daily, almost hourly, and the six months which elapsed before Lyndall's return passed, as he felicitously phrased it, "like a summer night, when you are dreaming of some one you love."
Late one evening, Gregory sat by his little love, turning the handle of her machine as she drew her work through it, and they talked of the changes they would make when the Boer-woman was gone, and the farm belonged to them alone. There should be a new room here, and a kraal there. So they chatted on. Suddenly Gregory dropped the handle, and impressed a fervent kiss on the fat hand that guided the linen.
"You are so beautiful, Em," said the lover. "It comes over me in a flood suddenly how I love you."
Em smiled.
"Tant Sannie says when I am her age no one will look at me; and it is true.
My hands are as short and broad as a duck's foot, and my forehead is so low, and I haven't any nose. I can't be pretty."
She laughed softly. It was so nice to think he should be so blind.
"When my cousin comes tomorrow you will see a beautiful woman, Gregory," she added presently. "She is like a little queen: her shoulders are so upright, and her head looks as though it ought to have a little crown upon it. You must come to see her tomorrow as soon as she comes. I am sure you will love her."
"Of course I shall come to see her, since she is your cousin; but do you think I could ever think any woman as lovely as I think you?"
He fixed his seething eyes upon her.
"You could not help seeing that she is prettier," said Em, slipping her right hand into his; "but you will never be able to like any one so much as you like me."
Afterward, when she wished her lover good night, she stood upon the doorstep to call a greeting after him; and she waited, as she always did, till the brown pony's hoofs became inaudible behind the kopje.
Then she passed through the room where Tant Sannie lay snoring, and through the little room that was all draped in white, waiting for her cousin's return, on to her own room.
She went to the chest of drawers to put away the work she had finished, and sat down on the floor before the lowest drawer. In it were the things she was preparing for her marriage. Piles of white linen, and some aprons and quilts; and in a little box in the corner a spray of orange-blossom which she had bought from a smouse. There, too, was a ring Gregory had given her, and a veil his sister had sent, and there was a little roll of fine embroidered work which Trana had given her. It was too fine and good even for Gregory's wife--just right for something very small and soft. She would keep it. And she touched it gently with her forefinger, smiling; and then she blushed and hid it far behind the other things. She knew so well all that was in that drawer, and yet she turned them all over as though she saw them for the first time, packed them all out, and packed them all in, without one fold or crumple; and then sat down and looked at them.
Tomorrow evening when Lyndall came she would bring her here, and show it her all. Lyndall would so like to see it--the little wreath, and the ring, and the white veil! It would be so nice! Then Em fell to seeing pictures.
Lyndall should live with them till she herself got married some day.
Every day when Gregory came home, tired from his work, he would look about and say, "Where is my wife? Has no one seen my wife? Wife, some coffee!" and she would give him some.
Em's little face grew very grave at last, and she knelt up and extended her hands over the drawer of linen.
"Oh, God!" she said, "I am so glad! I do not know what I have done that I should be so glad. Thank you!"
