I'm sorry I joked yesterday, she apologized softly. I don't think I

realized how much you love her. She lifted her glass to him. Here's a

speedy end to the search.

Sean drank again, half a glass at a swallow.

You do love her, don't you? Candy asked.

Sean answered her sharply. She's my wife. But it's not only that,

Candy went on recklessly, knowing his anger was just below the surface

of his fatigue. Yes, I love her. I'm just learning how much, I love

her as I'll never be able to love again. He drained his glass and

stared at it, his face grey under the frown and his eyes dark with

unhappiness. Love! he said. love? mouthing the word, weighing it.

They've dirtied that word . . .

they sell love at the Opera House . . . they have used that word so

much that now when I want to say "I love Katrina" it doesn't sound what

I mean. Sean hurled the glass against the far wall, it shattered with a

crack and a tingle and Dirk stirred in the bedroom. Sean dropped his

voice to a fierce whisper. I love her so it screws my gut, I love her

so that to think of losing her now is like thinking of dying.

He clenched his fists and leaned forward in his chair. I'll not lose

her now, by Christ, I'll find her and when I do I'll tell her this. I'll

tell her just like I'm telling you. He stopped and frowned. I don't

think I've ever said to her "I love you. " I've never liked using that

word. I've said "Marry me" and "You're my fancy, " but I've never said

it straight before. Perhaps that's part of the reason she ran away,

Sean, perhaps because you never said it she thought you never felt it.

Candy was watching him with a strange expression, pity and understanding

and a litlle . . - yearning. I'll find her, said Sean, and this time

I'll tell her. . . if it's not too late. You'll find her and it

won't be too late. The earth can't have swallowed her, and she'll be

glad to hear you say it. Candy stood up. You must rest now, you have a

hard day ahead of you.

Sean slept fully dressed in the chair in the sitting-room.

He slept brokenly, his mind struggling and kicking him back to half

wakefulness every few minutes. Candy had turned the gas low before she

left and its light fell in a soft pool onto the writing desk beneath it.

Katrina's Bible lay Where she had left it and each time Sean started

awake the fat, leather-covered book caught his eye. Some time before

dawn he woke for the last time and knew he could not sleep again.

He stood up and his body still ached and his eyes felt gritty. He moved

across to the gas lamp and turned it up high, he let his hand drop from

the lamp onto the Bible.

Its leather was cool and softly polished beneath his fingers. He opened

the front cover and caught his breath with a hiss.

Beneath Katrina's name, in her carefully rounded writing, the ink still

freshly blue, she had filled in the date of death.

The page magnified slowly in front of his eyes until it filled the whole

field of his vision. There was a rushing sound in his ears, the sound

of a river in flood, but above it he heard voices, different voices.

Let's go, Sean, it looks like a grave! But more than anything she needs

love The earth can't have swallowed her.

And his own voice, If it's not too late, if it's not too late The

morning light was gathering strength as he reached the ruins of the old

Candy Deep office block. He left his horse and ran through the grass

towards the mine dump.

The wind was small and cold; it moved the tops of the grass and went on

to where Katrina's green shawl was caught on the barbed wire fence that

ringed the shaft. In the wind the shawl flapped its wings like a big

green bird of prey.

Sean reached the fence and looked down into the mouth of the shaft. At

one place the grass had been torn away from the edge as though someone

had snatched at it as they fell.

Sean loosed the shawl from the spikes of the barbed wire, he balled the

heavy material in his fists, then he held it out over the shaft and let

it drop. It spread out as it floated down into the blackness, and it

was the bright green of Katrina's eyes. Why? whispered Sean. rWhy

have you done this to us, my fancy? He turned away and walked back to

his horse, stumbling carelessly in the rough footing.

Mbejane was waiting for him in the hotel suite.

Get the carriage, Sean told him. The Nkosikazi -TGet the carriage, Sean

repeated.

Sean carried Dirk downstairs. He paid his bill at the reception desk

and went out to where MbeJane had the carriage ready. He climbed up

into it and held Dirk on his lap.

Drive back to Pretoria, Sean said.

Where's Mummy? Dirk demanded. She's not coming with us. Are we going

alone? Dirk insisted and Sean nodded wearily. Yes, Dirk, we are going

alone. Is Mummy coming just now? No, Dirk. No, she's not. It was

finished, Sean thought. It was all over, all the dreams and the

laughter and the love, He was too numbed to feel the pain yet, it would

come later. Why are you squeezing me so hard, Daddy? Sean slackened

his grip and looked down at the child on his lap. it was not finished,

he realized; it was only a new beginning.

But first I must have time for this to heal. time, and a quiet place to

he up with this wound. The wagons are waiting and I must go back into

the wilderness.

Perhaps after another year I will have healed sufficiently to start

again, to go back to Lady-burg with my son, back to Lady-burg, and to

Ada and to Garry, he thought. Then suddenly and sickeningly he felt the

pain again, and the deep raw ache of it frightened him. Please God,

prayed Sean who had never prayed before, please God give me the strength

to endure it. Are you going to cry, Daddy? You look like you're going

to cry. Dirk was watching Sean's face with solemn curiosity. Sean

pulled the child's head gently against his shoulder and held it there.

If tears could pay both our debts, thought Sean, if with my tears I

could buy for you an indulgence from all pain, if by weeping now I could

do all your weeping for you then I would cry until my eyes were washed

away. No, Dirk, he answered. I am not going to cry, crying never helps

very much. And Mbejane took them to where the wagons waited at

Pretoria.