Sad Love Stories
The Love Letter Part 1
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The Love Letter Part
1 | Part 2
I was always a little in awe of Great-aunt Stephina Roos.
Indeed, as children we were all frankly terrified of her.
The fact that she did not live with the family, preferring
her tiny cottage and solitude to the comfortable but rather
noisy household where we were brought up-added to the respectful
fear in which she was held.
We used to take it in turn to carry small delicacies which
my mother had made down from the big house to the little
cottage where Aunt Stephia and an old colored maid spent
their days. Old Tnate Sanna would open the door to the rather
frightened little messenger and would usher him-or her -
into the dark voor-kamer, where the shutters were always
closed to keep out the heat and the flies. There we would
wait, in trembling but not altogether unpleasant.
She was a tiny little woman to inspire so much veneration.
She was always dressed in black, and her dark clothes melted
into the shadows of the voor-kamer and made her look smaller
than ever. But you felt. The moment she entered. That something
vital and strong and somehow indestructible had come in
with her, although she moved slowly, and her voice was sweet
and soft.
She never embraced us. She would greet us and take out
hot little hands in her own beautiful cool one, with blue
veins standing out on the back of it, as though the white
skin were almost too delicate to contain them.
Tante Sanna would bring in dishes of sweet, sweet, sticky
candy, or a great bowl of grapes or peaches, and Great-aunt
Stephina would converse gravely about happenings on the
farm ,and, more rarely, of the outer world.
When we had finished our sweetmeats or fruit she would
accompany us to the stoep, bidding us thank our mother for
her gift and sending quaint, old-fashioned messages to her
and the Father. Then she would turn and enter the house,
closing the door behind, so that it became once more a place
of mystery.
As I grew older I found, rather to my surprise, that I
had become genuinely fond of my aloof old great-aunt. But
to this day I do not know what strange impulse made me take
George to see her and to tell her, before I had confided
in another living soul, of our engagement. To my astonishment,
she was delighted.
"An Englishman,"she exclaimed."But that
is splendid, splendid. And you,"she turned to George,"you
are making your home in this country? You do not intend
to return to England just yet?"
She seemed relieved when she heard that George had bought
a farm near our own farm and intended to settle in South
Africa. She became quite animated, and chattered away to
him.
After that I would often slip away to the little cottage
by the mealie lands. Once she was somewhat disappointed
on hearing that we had decided to wait for two years before
getting married, but when she learned that my father and
mother were both pleased with the match she seemed reassured.
The Love Letter Part 1 | Part
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