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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } - -</style> -<title>THE MAN WHO DID THE RIGHT THING</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Man Who Did The Right Thing" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Sir Harry Johnston" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1921" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="45451" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2014-04-21" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Man Who Did The Right Thing" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="The Man Who Did The Right Thing" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="man.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2014-04-22T00:00:11.773389+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45451" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Sir Harry Johnston" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2014-04-21" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-man-who-did-the-right-thing"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE MAN WHO DID THE RIGHT THING</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Man Who Did The Right Thing -<br /> -<br />Author: Sir Harry Johnston -<br /> -<br />Release Date: April 21, 2014 [EBook #45451] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE MAN WHO DID THE RIGHT THING</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">THE MAN WHO DID -<br />THE RIGHT THING</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">A ROMANCE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">SIR HARRY JOHNSTON</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">Mew York -<br />THE MACMILLAN COMPANY -<br />1921</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">All rights reserved</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">COPYRIGHT, 1921, -<br />BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">Set up and electrotyped. Published April, 1921.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold medium">NOVELS BY THE SAME AUTHOR</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE GAY-DOMBEYS -<br />MRS. WARREN'S DAUGHTER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The central idea of this book came into my mind -a great many years ago, out in Africa, and was -based to some extent on what actually happened at -Unguja and elsewhere. Yet, though there is more -realism than might be supposed in my descriptions and -incidents and the imagined personalities that appear -in these pages, I have endeavoured so to disturb and -re-present the facets of my truths that they shall not -wound the feelings of any one living or of the surviving -friends and relations of the good and bad people -I have known in East Africa, or of those in my own -land who were entangled in East African affairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But although I have pondered long over telling such -a story, this Romance of East Africa was mainly -projected, created and put down on paper when my wife -and I stayed in the summer-autumn of last year at -the Swiss home, in the mountains, of a dear friend. -There we amused ourselves, as we swung in hammocks -slung under pine-trees and gazed over the panorama -of the Southern Alps, by arguing and discussing as to -what the creations of my imagination would say to one -another, how they would act under given circumstances -within the four corners ruled by Common Sense and -Probability: two guides who will, I hope, always guard -my faltering steps in fiction-writing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Therefore, though dedications have lost their novelty -and freshness, and are now incitements to preciosity -or payments in verbiage, I, to satisfy my own -sentiments of gratitude for a most delightful holiday of -rest and refreshment, dedicate this Romance to my -hostess of the Châlet Soleil, who founded this new -Abbaye de Theleme for the recuperation of tired minds -and bodies, and enforced within its walls and walks -and woods but one precept:</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold">FAY CE QUE VOULDRAS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>H. H. JOHNSTON.</span></p> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>POLING,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>March, 1921.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CONTENTS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">CHAPTER</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span>I </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-baineses">The Baineses</a><span> -<br />II </span><a class="reference internal" href="#john-and-lucy">John and Lucy</a><span> -<br />III </span><a class="reference internal" href="#sibyl-at-silchester">Sibyl at Silchester</a><span> -<br />IV </span><a class="reference internal" href="#lucy-hesitates">Lucy Hesitates</a><span> -<br />V </span><a class="reference internal" href="#roger-s-dismissal">Roger's Dismissal</a><span> -<br />VI </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-voyage-out">The Voyage Out</a><span> -<br />VII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#ungujaand-up-country">Unguja—and Up-country</a><span> -<br />VIII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#letters-to-and-fro">Letters To and Fro</a><span> -<br />IX </span><a class="reference internal" href="#mission-life">Mission Life</a><span> -<br />X </span><a class="reference internal" href="#roger-arrives">Roger Arrives</a><span> -<br />XI </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-happy-valley">The Happy Valley</a><span> -<br />XII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-attack-on-the-station">The Attack on the Station</a><span> -<br />XIII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-return-to-unguja">The Return to Unguja</a><span> -<br />XIV </span><a class="reference internal" href="#lucy-s-second-marriage">Lucy's Second Marriage</a><span> -<br />XV </span><a class="reference internal" href="#in-england">In England</a><span> -<br />XVI </span><a class="reference internal" href="#sibyl-as-siren">Sibyl as Siren</a><span> -<br />XVII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#back-to-the-happy-valley">Back to the Happy Valley</a><span> -<br />XVIII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#five-years-later">Five Years Later</a><span> -<br />XIX </span><a class="reference internal" href="#trouble-with-stolzenberg">Trouble with Stolzenberg</a><span> -<br />XX </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-boer-war">The Boer War</a><span> -<br />XXI </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-morals-of-the-happy-valley">The Morals of the Happy Valley</a><span> -<br />XXII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#eight-years-have-passed-by">Eight Years Have Passed By</a><span> -<br />XXIII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-end-of-sibyl">The End of Sibyl</a><span> -<br />XXIV </span><a class="reference internal" href="#all-ends-in-the-happy-valley">All Ends in the Happy Valley</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-baineses"><span class="bold x-large">THE MAN WHO DID -<br />THE RIGHT THING</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE BAINESES</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was in the last week of June, 1886, and there -really were warm and early summers in the -nineteenth century.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little chapel had been so close and hot during -the morning service that in spite of the interest Lucy -Josling felt in the occasion—it was the first appearance -of her betrothed, John Baines, as a preacher in his -native place, and the delivery of his farewell sermon -before starting for Africa—she could not repress a sigh -of relief as she detached herself from the perspiring -throng of worshippers and stood for a few moments in -the bright sunlight, inhaling the perfume of distant -hayfields.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You look a trifle pale, Lucy," said Mr. Baines, -senior, a stumpy red-faced man with light sandy hair -and a long upper lip. "It's precious warm. I s'pose -you'n John'll want to walk back together? Well, -don't keep dinner waiting, 'cos that always puts me -out. Now then, Sarah, come along: it's too hot to -stand gossiping about. Let's get home as quick as -we can."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Baines, a gaunt, thin woman with a long -parchment-coloured face and cold grey eyes, looked -indignantly at her husband when he talked of gossiping, -but said nothing, took his arm and walked away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy put up her parasol and leant against the ugly -iron railings which interposed between the dusty chapel -windows and the pavement. The congregation had -not all dispersed. Two or three awkward-looking -young men were standing in a group in the roadway, -and, while pretending to carry on a jesting conversation -amongst themselves, were casting sheepish looks at -Lucy, who was deemed a beauty for ten miles round. -They evidently alluded to her in the witticisms they -exchanged, so that she had to restrict her angle of -vision in case her eyes met theirs when she wished to -ignore their offensive existence. Mrs. Garrett, the -grocer's wife, who had been inquiring from Miss -Simons, the little lame dressmaker—why were village -dressmakers of that period, in life and in fiction, nearly -always lame?—how her married sister progressed -after a confinement, walked up to Lucy and said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Miss Josling, and how d'you like the idea of -parting with your young man? Ain't cher afraid of -his goin' off so far, and all among savages and wild -beasts too, same as 'e was tellin' on? It's all right -and proper as how he should carry the news of the -Gospel to them pore naked blacks, but as I says to -Garrett, I says, ''E don't ought to go and engage -'isself before'and to a girl as 'e mayn't never come back -to marry, and as 'll spend the best years of 'er life -a-waitin' an' a-waitin' and cryin' 'er eyes put to no -use.' However, 't ain't any business of mine, an' I -s'pose you've set your heart upon 'im now, and won't -thank me for bein' so outspoken....?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure 'e's come back from London </span><em class="italics">quite</em><span> the -gentleman; and lor'! 'Ow proud 'is mother </span><em class="italics">did</em><span> look -while 'e was a-preachin'. An' 'e </span><em class="italics">can</em><span> preach, too! 'Alf -the words 'e used was Greek to me.... S'pose they -</span><em class="italics">was</em><span> Greek, if it comes to that"—she laughed -fatly—"Though why th' Almighty should like Greek and -Latin better'n plain English, or even 'Ebrew, is what -I never could understand....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And to think as I remember 'im, as it on'y seems -the other day, comin' in on the sly to buy a 'aporth of -sugar-candy at our shop. 'Is mother never liked 'is -eatin' between meals an' 'e always 'ad to keep 'is bit -o' candy 'idden away in 'is pocket till 'e was out of 'er -sight.... I'm sure for my part I wonder </span><em class="italics">'ow</em><span> she -can bring 'erself to part with 'im, 'e bein' 'er on'y son, -and she so fond of 'im too. But then she always set -'er 'eart on 'is bein' a gentleman, and give 'im a good -eddication.... 'Ow's father and mother?..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh quite well, thank you," replied Lucy, wondering -why John was stopping so long and exposing her to -this tiresome garrulity and the hatefulness of having -her private affairs discussed in a loud tone for the -benefit of the Sunday strollers of Tilehurst. "They -would have come over from Aldermaston to hear John -preach, but father cannot bear to take his eyes off the -hay till it's all carried, and mother's alone now because -my sisters are away.... I just came by myself to -the Baineses' for the day....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And, Mrs. Garrett," continued Lucy, a slight flush -rising to her cheek, "I don't think you quite understand -about my engagement to John Baines. I—I—am -not at all to be pitied. You rather ought to congratulate -me. First, because I am very—er—fond of him -and proud of his dedicating his life to such a work, -and, secondly, because there is no question of my -waiting years and years before I get married. John goes -out this month and I shall follow six or seven months -afterwards—just to give him time to get our home -ready. We shall be married out there, at a place called -Unguja, where there is a Consulate...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy stopped short. She was going on to give other -good reasons for her engagement when a slight feeling -of pride forbade her further to excuse herself to -Mrs. Garrett—a grocer's wife! And she herself a -National school-teacher! There could be no community -between them. She therefore fell silent and gazed -away from Mrs. Garrett's red face and blue bonnet -across the white sandy road blazing with midday -sunshine to the house fronts of the opposite side, with their -small shops closed, the blinds drawn down and everything -denoting the respectable lifelessness of the -Sabbath.... At this awkward pause John Baines issued -from the vestry door of the chapel, Mrs. Garrett -nodded good-naturedly, and went her way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John was about four-and-twenty—Lucy's age. He -was a little over the average height but ungainly, with -rather sloping shoulders, long arms, large hands and -feet; a face with not well-formed features; nose -coarse, fleshy, blunt-tipped; mouth wide, with his -father's long upper lip, on which were the beginnings of -a flaxen moustache, with tame ends curling down to -meet the upward growth of the young beard. He had -an under lip that was merely a band of pink skin round -the mouth, without an inward curve to break its union -with the broad chin. His teeth were strong and white -but irregular in setting, the canines being thrust out -of position. His eyes were blue-grey, and not without -a pleasant twinkle. The hair was too long for tidiness, -not long enough for eccentric saintliness. It was a -yellow brown and was continued down the cheeks in -a silken beard from ear to ear, the tangled, unclipped, -uncared-for beard of a young man who has never -shaved. His fresh pink-and-white complexion was -marred here and there with the pimples and blotches -of adolescence. Lucy, however, thought him good to -look at; he only wanted a little smartening up, which -she promised herself to impart to him when they were -married. He looked what he was: a good-hearted, -simple-minded, unintellectual Englishman, an Anglo-Saxon, -with a hearty appetite for plain food, a love of -cricket, who would with little difficulty remain in all -things chaste and sober; slow to wrath, but, if really -pushed against the wall, able to show berserker rage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having taken up a religious career he had acquired -a certain pomposity of manner which sat ill on his -boyishness; he had to remember in intervals of games -or country dances or flirtations that he had been set -apart for the Lord's work. But he would make an -excellent husband. His class has furnished quite the -best type of colonist abroad.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John gave his arm silently to Lucy, who took it with -a gesture of affection, and patted it once or twice with -her kid-gloved hand, which lover-like demonstrations -John accepted rather solemnly. As they walked up -the sunny main street there was little conversation -between them, but when they turned down an old -shady road running between red brick walls overgrown -with ivy and Oxford weed, behind which rose the spire -of St. Michael's and the tall trees of its churchyard, -their good behaviour relaxed and John looking down, -and seeing Lucy's fresh, pretty face looking up, and -observing in a hasty glance around that nobody was -in sight, bent down and kissed her: after which he -looked rather silly and hurried on with great strides.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't walk so fast, John dear; you quite drag me -along. We need not be in such a hurry. Tell me, -how did you spend your last days in London?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Wednesday I went to the outfitters to -superintend the packing of my boxes; Thursday I bid -good-bye to all my friends at the Bayswater College. -In the evening there was a valedictory service at the -Edgware Road Chapel, when Thomas, Bayley, Anderson -and I were designated for the East African Mission. -The next day, Friday, I went in the morning to see my -boxes put safely on board the </span><em class="italics">Godavery</em><span> lying in the -Albert Docks; and I also chose my berth—I share a -cabin with Anderson. Then in the afternoon there was -a big public meeting at Plymouth Hall. Sir Powell -Buckley was chairman, and Brentham, the African -explorer, spoke, as well as a lot of others, and it ended -with prayers and hymns. The Reverend Paul Barker, -a very old African missionary, who was the first to -enter Abeokuta, delivered the Blessing. Every one -shook hands with us and bade us Godspeed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"After this the three brethren designated for the -Mission, and myself, of course, together with -Brentham the explorer, Mr. Barker and a few others from -the platform, adjourned to Sir Powell Buckley's, where -we had tea. Here we four new missionaries were -introduced to old Mrs. Doland, that lady who, under -God, has so liberally contributed to the support of the -East African Mission.... And also to Captain -Brentham, who has just returned from the East -coast....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I confess I didn't like </span><em class="italics">him</em><span> ... altogether.... -In fact, I can't </span><em class="italics">quite</em><span> make out why he came and spoke -at the meeting, for I could see at once by the way he -stared about him during the hymns he was not one of -us ... in heart. In his speech at Plymouth Hall he -chiefly laid stress on the advantages gained by -civilization when a country was opened up by missionaries, -how we taught the people trades, and so on. There -was no allusion to the inestimable boon to the natives -in making known the Blessed Gospel and the promises -in the Old Testament....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In fact—am I walking too fast? But father will -be angry if we are late for dinner—in fact, I thought -Brentham inclined to sneer at us. They say he wants -a Government appointment and is making up to Sir -Powell Buckley——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then Saturday—yesterday—I came down here -and—er—well! here we are! Are you listening?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy gave John's arm an affectionate squeeze by -way of assurance, but on this rare June day there was -something in the still, hot air, thick with hay-scent, -which lulled her sensibilities and caused her to forget -to be concerned at her betrothed's departure. She -had temporarily forgotten many little things stored up -to be said to him, and was vexed at her own taciturnity. -However, their walk had come to an end, and they stood -in front of John's home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. John Parker Baines, the father of the -missionary-designate, was a manufacturer of aerated drinks -and cider, whose premises lay on the western side of -Tilehurst and marred the beauty of the countryside and -the straggling village with a patch of uncompromising -vulgarity and garishness. The manufactory itself -was in a simple style of architecture: a rectangular -building of red brick, with two tall smoke-blackened -chimneys and a number of smaller ones. "John -Baines and Co., Manufacturers of Aerated Drinks," -was painted in large letters across the brick front.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A Sabbath stillness prevailed, intensified by the -smokeless chimneys and the closed door. Only a cur -lay in the sun, and some dirty ducks squittered the -water in a dirty ditch which carried off the drainage -of the factory to a neighbouring brook.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A short distance apart from the main building stood -the dwelling of the proprietor, Mr. Baines, who had -inherited the business from his wife's father and -transferred it to his own name. This home of the Baines -family, though designed by the same architect, had its -aboriginal ugliness modified by numerous superficial -improvements. A rich mantle of ivy overgrew a -portion of its red brick walls and wreathed its ugly -stucco portico. The window-panes were brightly -polished and gave a vivacity to the house by their gleaming -reflections of light and shade. You could see through -them the green Venetian blinds of the sitting-rooms -and the unpolished backs of looking-glasses and clean -white muslin curtains of the bedrooms. In the short -strip of front garden there were beds of scarlet -geraniums which added a pleasant note of bright colour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the grained front door a cat was waiting to be let -in with an air about her as if she too had returned a -little late from church or chapel. A strong, rich odour -of roast beef filled the air and drowned the scent of -hayfields. This intensified the feeling of vulgar -comfort which permeated the house when the door was -opened by Mr. Baines, senior, and increased the pious -satisfaction of the cat, who arched her black body and -rubbed herself coyly against her master's Sunday trousers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, you're late," snapped Mr. Baines. "I -knew you would be. Here's mother, as cross as two -sticks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Baines, who had stalked into the narrow hall -from the dining-room, gave them no greeting, but -merely called to Eliza to serve the dinner, as Mr. John -and Miss Josling had arrived.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For Lucy this was not a pleasant meal. Mrs. Baines -was one of those unsympathetic persons that took away -her appetite. She was a thoroughly good woman in -the estimation of her neighbours, austerely devout, -rigidly honest, an able housewife and a strict mother. -But her future daughter-in-law had long since classed -her as thoroughly unlovable. The one tender feeling -she evinced was her passionate though undemonstrative -devotion to her only son. Even this, though it might -beautify her dull being in the eyes of an unconcerned -observer, did not always announce itself pleasantly to -her home circle. To John it had often been the reason -for a cruel smacking when a child and guilty of some -small childish sin; to her husband it was the excuse -for vexatious economies, which while they did not -materially increase the funds devoted to his son's -education, had frequently interfered with his personal -comfort.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Baines's love of John was further manifested -to Lucy by a jealous criticism of her speech and actions; -for, like most mothers of an only son, she was bound to -resent the bestowal of his affections on a sweetheart, -and determined to be dissatisfied with whomever he -might select for that honourable position.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, although Lucy was pretty, relatively well-educated, -earning her living already as a National school-mistress, -the daughter of a much-respected farmer, and -known by the Baines family almost since she was a -baby, Mrs. Baines found fault with her just because -she had found favour with John. Lucy was -"Church" and they were "Chapel." She was vain -and worldly and quite unsuited to be the wife of a -missionary. The fascination of worldliness was not -denied. The Devil knew how to bait his traps. -Through worldly influence one was led to read novels -on the Sabbath, to dispute the Biblical account of the -Creation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy, it is true, had neither scoffed at Genesis, nor -spoken flippantly of Noah's Ark, nor been seen reading -fiction on a Sunday; but that didn't matter. With -her pretensions to an interest in botany, her talk about -astronomy and the distances of the fixed stars and -such like rubbish, she was quite capable of sliding into -infidelity. And as to her observance of the Sabbath, -it was simply disgraceful. Of course, her father was -to blame in setting her a bad example and her mother, -too, poor soul, was much too easy-going with her -daughters. But then, when you came to consider -that Lucy had been so much with John, to say nothing -of the example set by John's parents, you would have -thought she might have learnt by this time how the -Lord's Day should be passed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was this last point which strained the relations -between Mrs. Baines and Lucy on this particular -Sunday. Lucy had asked John to take her for a walk -in the afternoon. It would be their last opportunity -for a quiet talk all to themselves before his departure. -Although John Baines had inherited his mother's -Sabbatarian scruples he consented to Lucy's proposal, -partly because he was in love with her, partly because -his residence in London had insensibly broadened his -views. For once his mother's influence was powerless -to alter his decision, and so she had refrained from -further argument. But this first check to her -domination over her son had considerably soured her -feelings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Moreover, Mrs. Baines honestly believed, according -to her lights—for like all the millions of her class and -period she knew absolutely nothing about astronomy, -geology, ethnology and history—that the Creator of -the Universe preferred you should spend the Sunday -afternoon in a small, stuffy back parlour with the -blinds half down, reading the Bible or Baxter's sermons -(or, if the spiritual appetite were very weak, an -illustrated edition of </span><em class="italics">Pilgrim's Progress</em><span>) and continue this -mortification of flesh and spirit until tea time (unless -you taught in the Sunday-school). You should then -wind up the Day of Rest with evening chapel, supper, -more sermon-reading, and bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The only person disposed to be talkative during the -meal was John Baines the younger. His mother, at -all times glum, was more than ever inclined to silence. -Lucy was oppressed by her frigid demeanour and -vouchsafed very few remarks, other than those called -for by politeness. As to Baines, senior, he was one of -those short-necked, fleshy men who are born guzzlers, -and his attention was too much concentrated on his food -to permit of his joining in conversation during his -Sunday dinner. As a set-off against abstention from -alcohol he was inordinately greedy, and his large -appetite was a constant source of suffering to him, for his -wife took a grim delight in mortifying it. Only on -Sundays was he allowed to eat his fill without her -interference. Mrs. Baines always did the carving and -helped everything, even the vegetables, which were -placed in front of her, flanking the joint. The -maid-of-all-work, Eliza, waited at table and was evidently -the slave of her mistress's eye. The family dinner on -Sundays was almost invariable in its main features, -as far as circumstances permitted. A well-roasted -round of beef, with baked potatoes and Yorkshire -pudding, was succeeded by an apple or a treacle -pudding, and a dessert of some fruit or nuts in season. -Of one thing there was no lack and abundant -variety—effervescing, non-alcoholic drinks: Ginger Beer, Ginger -Ale, Gingerade; Lemonade, Citronade, Orangeade; -Phosphozone, Hedozone, Pyrodone, Sparkling Cider -and Perry Champagne: all the beverages compounded -of carbonic acid, tartaric acid, citric acid, sugar, water, -apple and pear juice, and flavouring essences.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Apple champagne that John gallantly poured -into Lucy's glass did not lighten her spirits or loosen -her tongue. What could she find to say to that -guzzling father whose face and hands were always close to -his plate, except during the brief intervals between the -courses when he threw himself back in his chair, blew -his nose, wiped his greasy lips, and passed his fat -forefinger round the corners of his gums to remove the -wedges of food which had escaped deglutition? Or -to the gloomy mother who ate her victuals with a -sullen champing, and, beyond a few directions to the -submissive servant, made no attempts to sustain -conversation, only according to the garrulous descriptions -of her son an occasional snappish "Oh! indeed——," -"Pretty doings, I can see——," "Little good can -come of </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>——," and so on? At length, when -John's experiences in London had come to an end and -the two dishes of cherries had replaced the treacle -pudding, whilst the servant handed round in tumblers our -own superlative Sparkling Cider, Lucy cleared her -throat and said, "I suppose John will be leaving you -very early to-morrow morning?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh?" returned Mrs. Baines, fixing her cold grey -eyes on Lucy. She had heard perfectly well, but she -thought it more consistent with dignity not to lend -too ready an ear to the girl's remarks. Lucy repeated -more distinctly her question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You had better ask </span><em class="italics">him</em><span> all about it," replied -John's mother. "I have other things to think about -on the Lord's Day besides railway time-tables."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why? Are you coming to see me off, Lucy?" -asked John.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, yes; that is, if Mrs. Baines doesn't mind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> mind?" exclaimed the angry woman in a strident -voice. "What have </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> got to do with it; I suppose -railway stations are free to every one?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Lucy, with an ache at the back of her -throat and almost inclined then and there to break off -her engagement. "But I thought you might like to -have John all to yourself at the last. However, if you -have no objection, I should much like to see him off, -poor old fellow"—and Lucy gave his big-knuckled -hand an affectionate pat—"I think I can manage it. -Father has to come into Theale. He will drop me at -the station and pick me up again, and school doesn't -begin till nine. What time does your train go, John?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Twenty-five past seven. I shall get to London -soon after nine. After going to the head-quarters of -the Mission and getting my final instructions I shall -drive straight down to the docks and go on board the -</span><em class="italics">Godavery</em><span>.... The first place we stop at is Algiers, -then Malta, then the Suez Canal and Aden. I expect -this is just what </span><em class="italics">you'll</em><span> have to do, Lucy, when you -come out next spring."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy smiled brightly. She had gradually grown -into her engagement as she grew from girlhood to -womanhood, constrained by John's bland assumption -that the damsel he selected was bound to be his wife. -But perhaps her main inducement was his fixed -determination to become a missionary and her intense -longing to see "foreign parts," the wonderful and the -interesting world. She was just rallying her spirits to -make some animated reply about Algiers when Mrs. Baines -intervened and said there were limits to all -things, and if they didn't wish to pass the whole of the -Lord's Day eating, drinking, and talking they had -better rise and let Eliza clear away. On hearing these -words, Mr. Baines turned the last cherries into his -plate and hastily biting them off and ejecting the stones, -pushed his chair back with a sigh. Then, rising -heavily, he stumbled into the armchair near the -fireplace and composed himself for a nap. The maid -began to clear away, longing to get back to her Sunday -dinner and concealed novelette. Lucy went to put on -her hat; John yawned and drummed his fingers on the -window-pane; and Mrs. Baines seated herself stiffly in -the armchair opposite her satiated husband, with a -large brown Bible on her lap and two or three leaflets -covered with small-print references to Scripture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When John heard Lucy tripping downstairs he went -to meet her, feeling instinctively that her re-appearance -in the dining-room would draw some bitter comment -from his mother. He put on his felt wide-awake, took -a stout stick, and soon banged the front door on his -sweetheart and himself in a way which sent a shiver -through the frame of Mrs. Baines, who with an impatient -sigh of disgust applied herself to a gloomy portion -of the Old Testament.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Probably had John remained to keep her company -she would have made no attempt to entertain him; -but she would have applied herself with real interest -to Scriptural exegesis. Of her class and of her time -what little romance and intellectuality she had was -put into Bible study. She believed the -British—degenerate though they might appear as to Sabbath -observance—were descended from the Ten Lost -Tribes, who had been led by the prophet Jeremiah to -Ireland in an unnecessary spurt of energy and had -then returned in coracles to the more favoured Britain, -Jeremiah—age being of no moment where the -Divine purpose was concerned—having taken in -marriage a daughter of the Irish king——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But ... the ingratitude of her only son, who could -not give up to his mother's society his last Sunday -afternoon in England! She choked with unshed tears -and read verse after verse of the early part of Jeremiah -without understanding one word, although she was told -in her leaflets that the diatribes bore special reference -to England in the latter part of the nineteenth century.... -No, the thought of John wandering about the -hayfields with Lucy—for, of course, that girl would -lead him into the hayfields, perhaps throw hay at -him—constantly rose before her, and once or twice a few -hot tears dimmed her sight.... "The Lord said -also unto me in the days of Josiah the King: Hast -thou seen that which backsliding Israel hath done?..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had devoted all the money she could save, all -the time she could spare to the bringing-up of this boy. -She had sent him to college and made him a gentleman. -She had done her duty by him as a mother, and this -was the return he made. He preferred to spend his -last Sunday afternoon frolicking about the country -with a feather-headed girl to passing it quietly by -his mother's side, as he formerly used to do.... -They might even have had a word of prayer together. -Mrs. Baines was not usually a woman who encouraged -outbursts of vocal piety outside the chapel, but on such -an occasion as this.... She might not see him for -another five years..</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I said, after she had done all these things, -Turn thou unto me. But she returned not."—Now -was it becoming for a grown man, a missionary who -had occupied the pulpit at Salem Chapel in the morning, -to go gallivanting about the meadows with a young -woman in the afternoon? What would any of the -congregation say who saw him? A nice spectacle, -to be sure!— "And the Lord said unto me, The -back-sliding Israel hath justified herself more than -treacherous Judah..." "Let me see," reflected Mrs. Baines, -trying to give her attention to her reading, "Judah -represents the Church of England, and Israel is -... Israel is ... Baines! For goodness </span><em class="italics">sake</em><span> don't -snore like that. You ought to be ashamed of yourself! -</span><em class="italics">How</em><span> you can reconcile it with your conscience to guzzle -like a pig every Sunday at dinner and then pass the -rest of the afternoon snoring and snoozing instead of -reading your Bible, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> don't know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Baines's bloodshot, greenish eyes regarded his -wife with dazed wonderment for a few seconds. Then -their red lids dropped and a gentle breathing announced -the resumption of his slumbers. For a few moments -Mrs. Baines really devoted her attention to the third -chapter of Jeremiah; but when once more the -respirations of her spouse degenerated into raucous -snores, she lost all patience with him, and put away -her Bible and pamphlets. She could not stop in the -house any longer. It was allowable to visit the sick on -the Sabbath day. She would go and see old -Mrs. Gannell in Stebling's Cottages and read some tracts -to her. So she shook off imaginary crumbs from her -skirts, went upstairs to put on her Sunday bonnet, -and left her husband—though he was unconscious of -the privilege—to snore and chuckle and drivel and -snore unrebuked for a couple of hours.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="john-and-lucy"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">JOHN AND LUCY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>John and Lucy strode rapidly through the outskirts -of the village, past the inspection of curious eyes -from over the rim of window blinds, into the quiet -country, which lay sleeping in veiled sunshine; for -the warmth of the June sun had created a slight haze in -the river valley and men and beasts seemed drowsy -with the concentrated, undispersed odour of the -newly-cut hay. They crossed a little stream by a wooden -bridge, climbed two stiles—Lucy gaily, John -bashfully, as if fearing that his new-born dignity of -preacher might suffer thereby—walked about a -quarter of a mile down a densely shaded lane where the -high hedgerows were flecked with pale pink, yellow-stamened -dogroses, and where the honeysuckle trailed -its simple light green foliage and hung out its lank -fists of yellow fingers: and then arrived at an open -space and a broad high road. This they followed -until they came to a white gate, marked in black letters -"To Englefield. Private." Without hesitation, from -long-established custom, they raised the latch and -entered the dense shade of a well-timbered wood with a -glimpse here and there, through the tree trunks, of -open water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy sighed with relief and pleasure when the white -gate swung to behind her and she was walking on a -turf-covered track under the shade of great beech trees. -Though the scene was familiar to her she exclaimed -at its beauty. John mopped his face industriously, -flapped away the flies, blew his nose, and wiped the -brim of his hat. "Yes, yes," he would reply, looking -to see if his boots were very dusty or whether there -were any grass seeds sticking to the skirts of his -frock-coat. "Canterbury bells, is that what you call them? -Yes, there seem to be lots this year. Here's a nice, -clean trunk of a tree. Let's sit down and have our -talk...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, not here, John. It's too midgy. We will go -farther on to The View: there's a seat there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So they followed the broad, turfy track which -commenced to ascend the flank of a down. On the right -hand the great trees rose higher and higher into the -sky; on the left the ground sloped away to the level -of the little lake with its swans and water-lilies; and -the turf near at hand was dark blue and purple-green -with the bugle in flower. In the ascending woodland -there were tall ranks of red-mauve foxgloves. Here -the owner of the park had placed an ample wooden seat -for the delectation of all who loved landscape beauty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John threw himself down with heavy abandonment -on the grey planks. Had he been alone he would -certainly have taken off his boots to ease his hot and -compressed feet, but some instinct told him his -betrothed might not think the action seemly. Lucy -stood for a few moments gazing at the view over the -Kennet valley and then sat down beside him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How dreadfully you perspire, my poor John," she -said, looking at the wet red hand which clasped the rail -of the seat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. The least amount of walking makes me hot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, but how will you be able to stand Africa?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it's a different kind of heat there, I believe. -Besides, you don't have to go about in a black coat, a -waistcoat and a starched shirt; except perhaps at -service time on Sundays."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a pity black clothes seem to be necessary to -holiness!"—(then seeing a frown settling on his face) -"I wonder whether we shall see anything so beautiful -as </span><em class="italics">this</em><span> out there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As beautiful as what? Oh! The view. Well, I -s'pose so. I believe there are some high mountains -and plenty of forest near the place where I am to live."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is its name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hangodi, I think—something like that. Bayley -says it means 'the Place of Firewood.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> doesn't sound pretty at all; just as if there -were nothing but dead sticks lying about. I hoped -there would be plenty of palms and those things you -see in the pictures of African travel books—with -great broad leaves—plantains? Is it a village?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hangodi? I believe so. I think the chief reason -it has been chosen is its standing high up on a -mountain and being near water."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, John," said Lucy after a minute's silence, "I -</span><em class="italics">do</em><span> look forward to joining you in Africa. I've always -wanted to travel, ever since I won a geography prize -at school. Just think what wonderful things we shall -see. Elephants and lions and tigers. Will there be -tigers? Of </span><em class="italics">course</em><span> not. I ought to have remembered -they're only found in India. But at any rate there will -be beautifully spotted leopards, and lions roaring at -night, and hippopotamuses in the rivers and antelopes -on the plains. And ostriches? Do you think there -will be any ostriches, John?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear, how do </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> know? Besides, we are not -going out to Africa to look for ostriches and lions, -Lucy," said John, rather solemnly. "We have a great -work before us, a </span><em class="italics">great</em><span> work. There is a mighty -harvest to be gathered for the Lord."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, John, of course," Lucy hastened to -reply, "I know what is the real object of your mission, -and I mean to help you all I can, don't I?" (pushing -back a wisp of his lank brown hair that fell over his -brow—for he had taken off the hot wide-awake). -"But that won't prevent me from liking to see wild -beasts and other queer African things; and I don't see -the harm in it, either...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"N—no, of course it isn't </span><em class="italics">wrong</em><span>. These things are -among the wonderful works of the Almighty, and it -is right that we should admire them in their proper -place. At the same time they are apt to become a -snare in leading us from the contemplation of holy -things into vain disputes about science. I know more -about these spiritual dangers than you do, Lucy," -continued John, from the superior standing of his three -years' education in London, "and I warn you against -the idolatry of intellect" (squeezing her little -kid-gloved hand to temper his solemnity with a lover's -gesture). "I knew a very nice fellow in London once. -He had studied medicine at the hospitals and he came -to Bayswater College to qualify for the East African -Mission; for he intended going out as a medical -missionary. He was the son of a minister, too, and his -father was much respected. But he was always spending -his spare time at this new Natural History Museum, -and he used to read Darwin and other infidel writers. -Well, the result was that he took to questioning the -accuracy of Genesis, and </span><em class="italics">of course</em><span> he had to give up all -idea of joining the Mission. I don't know what -became of him, but I expect he afterwards went to the -bad. For my part, I am thankful to say I never was -troubled with doubts. The Bible account of Creation -is good enough for me, and so it ought to be for -everybody else."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"John! </span><em class="italics">John</em><span>!" exclaimed Lucy, shaking his arm, -"you are just as bad as your mother, who accuses me -of disbelieving the Bible because I like to take a walk -on a fine Sunday afternoon. How you </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> run on! I -only said I wanted to see elephants and lions in Africa -and you accuse me straight out of 'worshipping my -intellect' or some such rubbish. Don't you know the -chief reason I promised to marry you was because I -thought it was so noble of you to go to Africa to teach -the poor natives? Very well, if you think African -wild beasts will be a snare for my soul I won't run the -temptation, and you shall marry some black woman -whose ears will come down to her shoulders, and a ring -through her nose as well, and no doubts at all about -anything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lucy! I think you're very flippant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"John! I think you're much too sanctimonious! -You're a great deal too good for me, and you'd better -find a more serious person than I am—Miss Jamblin, -for instance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ann Jamblin? And a very nice girl too. Oh! you -may sneer at her. She's not pretty, I daresay, but -she comes to all the prayer meetings, so mother says; -and she's got a nice gift for sacred poetry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> know her verses—flimsy things! Just -hymns-and-water, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> call them. She's got a number of -stock rhymes and she rings the changes on them. Any -one could do that. Besides, I've caught her lots of -times borrowing whole lines from Hymns, Ancient and -Modern, which I suppose aren't good enough for chapel -people, so they must needs go and make up hymns of -their own. And as to the prayer meetings, it's just the -tea and cake that attract </span><em class="italics">her</em><span>. Bless you! I was -at school with Ann Jamblin, and I know what a pig -that girl is.... But if you think she'd suit you better -as a wife, don't hesitate to change your mind. Your -mother would be </span><em class="italics">delighted</em><span>. And I've heard say that -Ann's uncle, who keeps the ham-and-beef shop in -Reading, means to leave her all his money. You -won't find Ann Jamblin caring much for wild beasts, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> -can promise you! Why, I remember once when the -school was out walking near Reading and we met a -dancing bear coming along with its keeper, she burst -out screaming and crying so loud that the youngest -Miss Calthrop had to take her </span><em class="italics">straight</em><span> back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, </span><em class="italics">Lucy</em><span>! </span><em class="italics">Is</em><span> it kind to quarrel with me just -before I am going away?" (Lucy's unexpected spitfire -prettiness and the hint she might be willing to break -off the engagement had roused John's latent manliness -and he felt now he desired intensely to marry her.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My </span><em class="italics">dear</em><span> John, I wasn't </span><em class="italics">quarrelling</em><span>, I've nothing to -quarrel about. I only suggested to you before it was -too late to change your mind that Ann Jamblin would -make you a more suitable wife than I should—there, -there!" (fighting off a kiss and an attempt at a hug) -"remember where we are and that any one might see -us and carry the tale to your mother. Of course, I am -partly in fun. I know it is unkind to tease you, but -somehow I </span><em class="italics">can't</em><span> be as serious as you are.... Dear old -John" (the attempt at a hug and the look of desire in -John's eyes have somehow mollified her) "I didn't -mean to hurt your feelings.... Did I? ... I'm very -sorry.... Just as you're going away, too.... -There, never mind.... Look bright and happy.... -Now </span><em class="italics">smile</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John's lips parted reluctantly and showed his pale -gums and projecting eye-teeth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you think, John? ... Let's get up and -walk on to the garden gates, ... what do you think -my Uncle Pardew is going to give us as a wedding -present? A harmonium! Won't that be nice? I -shall take it out with me, and then when you teach the -people to sing hymns—only you mustn't teach them -Ann Jamblin's—I can play the accompaniments. And -in the evenings when you are tired I shall try to play -something that will soothe you. I have never tried -the harmonium yet, but while you are away I mean to -practise. It's just like playing the piano, only you -have to keep working the pedals with your feet, like a -sewing-machine. Uncle Pardew would just as soon -give us a piano, but I told him what you said about the -climate being bad for them. So he settled that a -harmonium would do better. I wonder what other -wedding presents we shall get? I can tell to a certainty -what your mother will give us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, a very large Bible, bound in shiny brown -leather like those in the waiting-rooms at railway -stations, with a blue ribbon marker; and a dozen -silver spoons. Six large and six small. I know she -doesn't consider me worthy of the spoons, but she is -bound by custom. When she was married </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> mother-in-law -gave </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> spoons.... And your father will -give us a dinner-service and a gross of Sparkling Cider..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope to goodness he doesn't. The cost of -transporting it up-country would be quite beyond my means. -I shall tell him..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> father," continued Lucy, "is going to give -me a gold watch and chain. And mother, my own -sweet little mother—what do you think she's been -working at, John?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't say, I'm sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, </span><em class="italics">all</em><span> the house linen.... Sheets, pillow-cases, -tablecloths, napkins, and such like. She has -been getting them ready ever since I was first engaged.... -John! You must be </span><em class="italics">very</em><span> kind to me in Africa."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Kind</em><span> to you? Why, of course! Do you suppose -I should be anything else?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't know </span><em class="italics">how</em><span> I feel the idea of parting with -mother. I love her better than any one in the world, -better than you, John. She never says anything, but -I know she is dreadfully unhappy at the idea of my -going away so far and for so long. But then, I tell -her, we can't </span><em class="italics">all</em><span> be old maids. Father isn't rich enough -to keep us all at home, and I don't want to go on -working at a National school all my life.... Oh, by the -bye, talking of mother, I had something so pleasant to -tell you. What do you think Lord Silchester has done? -You know mother was maid to old Lady Silchester? -Well, when father went the other day to see Mr. Parkins -about a gate he met his lordship walking out of -the agent's office. They got into conversation and -father told him I was going out next year to marry -you in Africa. And last Wednesday mother got a -letter written by Lord Silchester himself, saying he -had not forgotten her faithful care of his mother and -would she give the enclosed to her daughter, out of -which she might buy a wedding present, something to -remember Lord Silchester by when she got out to -Africa. And there were four five-pound notes in the -envelope. Mother was so pleased she positively -</span><em class="italics">cried</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. That was very kind of his lordship. I must -tell my mother when I get back to-night. It may cheer -her up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, every one has been very nice about my engagement. -The Miss Calthrops, where I was at school in -Reading, told me they were working at some æsthetic -mantel-borders for our house in Africa...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mantel-borders! Why, we shan't have any mantel-pieces!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No mantel-pieces? No fireplaces?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only a fire for cooking, in the kitchen, and that -will be outside."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh well, then, we must put them to some other -use; I couldn't wound their feelings by saying we didn't -want them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lucy, you mustn't imagine you are going to live -in a mansion in Africa. Our home will be only a -cottage built of bamboo and mud and tree-stems roughly -trimmed, with a thatched or a corrugated-iron roof. -I don't suppose it will contain more than four -rooms—a bedroom, a bathroom, a sitting-room, a store and an -outside kitchen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, but even a log-hut might be made pretty -inside, with some 'art' draperies and cushions and a -few Japanese fans. I mean to make our home as -pretty as possible. Shall we have a garden?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I daresay—a kitchen garden, certainly. For -the Mission Committee wants to encourage the planting -of vegetables and even some degree of farming, so that -we may live as much as possible on local products. We -are taking out spades and hoes and rakes in plenty, a -small plough, an incubator, and any amount of useful -seeds."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure," said Lucy, still musing, "there ought -to be lovely wild flowers in Africa and beautiful ferns, -too. I mean to have a little wild garden of my own, -and I shall press the flowers and send them to mother -in my letters."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I daresay you will be able to do that, when you -have finished your household work and done your -teaching in the school."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Teaching in the school?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, of course you will help me in that. You'll -have to take the girls' class, whilst I take the boys'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, shall I? That's rather horrid. I didn't think -I was going out to Africa to teach, just the same as at -home. The National School children at Aldermaston -are quite tiresome enough. What will little black -girls be like, I wonder?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm told they're very quick at learning.... I -am sorry," continued John, rather portentously, "that -you don't quite seem to realize the nature of the duties -you are about to undertake. I love you very dearly, -Lucy"—and a tremor in his voice showed sincerity—"but -that isn't the only reason I have asked you to -come out to me in Africa and be my wife. I want a -helpmeet, not a playmate; one who will aid me in -bringing these heathen to a knowledge of God's -goodness; not an idle woman who only thinks of -picking wild flowers and ornamenting her house. Don't -pout, dear. I only want to save you disappointment. -You are not coming out to a life of luxury, but one of -hard work. Besides, it would be hardly fair to the -Mission if you did not take certain duties on yourself, -because when I am married they will increase my pay -to two hundred and fifty pounds a year."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you get when you are single?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One hundred and eighty. You see a married man -gets extra pay because it is always supposed his wife -will add her work to his. A married missionary, too, -has more influence with the natives."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All the same, John, we shall sometimes make time -to steal away by ourselves and have a nice little picnic -without any of those horrid black people near us...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Horrid black people, Lucy, have immortal -souls...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I daresay, but that doesn't prevent their having -black bodies and looking like monkeys. However, I -daresay I shall get used to them. And if I don't at -first ... By the bye, John, I forgot to ask, but I -wanted to, so as to relieve mother's mind—are they -cannibals?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What, the people of Hangodi? I don't know, but -I scarcely think so. And if they were, we should have -all the more credit in converting them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; but suppose they wouldn't wait to be -converted, but ate you first?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The little I've read and heard shows me they -would never do that. African cannibals, it seems, are -rather careful whom they eat. Generally only their -war captives or their old people. They wouldn't eat a -peaceful stranger, a white man. However, on the -east side of Africa the negroes are </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> cannibals, any -more than we are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isn't it curious, John, to think what different -ideas of right and wrong prevail amongst the peoples -of the world? Here, you say, there are some tribes in -Africa which eat their own relations. Well, I daresay -it is thought quite a right and proper thing to do—out -there—just as we in England think the old folk ought -to be cherished and taken care of, and kept alive as -long as possible. Only fancy how funny it would -sound to us to be told that Mr. Jones showed very bad -feeling because he wouldn't join his brother and -sister in eating up old Aunt Brown! And yet I daresay -that is what cannibal scandal-mongers often say to one -another. Isn't it wonderful how one lot of human -beings can think and act so differently to another lot; -and yet each party considers that nobody is right but -those who believe as they do? Supposing one day -some black missionaries landed in England, dressed in -large earrings, bead necklaces, pocket handkerchiefs and -nothing else, and tried to persuade us to worship some -hideous idol and leave off wearing so many clothes. -How astonished we would be ... and yet they would -think they were doing right, just as our missionaries -do who go out to teach savages the Gospel...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I confess I don't see the resemblance. What -we preach is the Truth, the Living Truth. What </span><em class="italics">they</em><span> -believe is a lie of the Devil."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but they don't </span><em class="italics">know</em><span> it is. They must think -it is the truth or they wouldn't go on believing in it -year after year. When I was teaching geography -the other day, I was quite </span><em class="italics">astonished</em><span> to find in the -Manual that about </span><em class="italics">four or five hundred millions</em><span> of -people were Buddhists. Isn't it </span><em class="italics">dreadful</em><span> to think of -their all being wrong, all living in vain. Surely God -won't punish them for it hereafter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's hard to say. If they had the means of grace -offered to them and rejected the Message I should -think He would. But that is the chief object of our -Foreign Missions, to teach the heathen the true -principles of Christianity and bring the Light of the Gospel -to them that sit in darkness. When this has been done -throughout the earth, no one will then be able to say he -sinned in ignorance, 'because he knew not the way of -Life.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And yet, John, see here in England what different -views of religion even good people take. Father goes -to Church; you go to Chapel; and each thinks the other -on the wrong road to Heaven."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh no! Lucy, I wouldn't go so far as that. Of -course, I believe that our Connection has been -vouchsafed a special revelation of God's Will and Purpose -among men. But all the same I feel sure that many a -Church person comes into the way of Truth though it -may be after much tribulation. Why, I wouldn't deny -that even </span><em class="italics">Roman Catholics</em><span> may be saved, if they have -led a godly life and acted up to their lights. At the -same time, those who have the Truth among them and -are wilfully blind to its teaching are incurring a heavy -responsibility."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you think father stands less chance of being -saved than you do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well ... yes ... I do; because in his Church -he does not possess the same means of grace as are -given to our Connection."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he is so good, so kind to every one, so fair in -his dealings..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good works without faith are insufficient to save a man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, for my part, I can't believe that </span><em class="italics">any</em><span> one will -be lost because he may not follow the most correct kind -of religion. I can't believe that God will punish any -one who isn't very, very wicked indeed. He is so -great; we are so little.... Just think, supposing we -saw an ant doing anything wrong should we feel -obliged to hurt it or burn it? Should we not be rather -amused and pitiful? And mustn't we seem the very -tiniest of ants to God?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Lucy! The belief in the fierce judgments of -the Almighty is a fundamental Truth of our religion, -and if your faith in </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> is shaken, everything will begin -to go.... But the subject is too solemn to be lightly -discussed, so let's talk about something else. Have -you finished my slippers?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and they're perfectly </span><em class="italics">lovely</em><span>. A dark blue, -with J.B. embroidered in white silk. I shall bring -them with me to the station to-morrow.... Why, -here we are at the gates of the garden! </span><em class="italics">How</em><span> we've -walked and </span><em class="italics">how</em><span> we've talked! And look, John,"—drawing -him back from standing too near the iron -gates, "there's his lordship on the terrace, and I do -believe the young lady with him is the one he's become -engaged to!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John looked in the direction whither Lucy discreetly -inclined her head, beyond triumphs of carpet-bedding -to the terrace which fronted the south side of the great -house. And there, foremost of several groups of -Sunday callers who were taking tea at small tables, -they saw specially prominent a party of three: a pretty -girl rather showily dressed in the height of 1886 -fashion, an old lady, and an elderly man, tall, a little -inclined to stoop, dressed in dark, loose-fitting tweeds. -He had a long face with a massive jaw and rather a -big nose. But though they were not visible at a -distance of fifty yards there were kindly wrinkles round -his dark grey eyes as he suddenly lifted them from -the seated ladies and glanced across the flower beds -to see who was looking at him from the outer world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was Lord Silchester; and John, not wishing to -prolong his indiscretion, raised his wide-awake and -turned away with his betrothed. He and Lucy then -walked directly to Aldermaston, John leaving her at -the railway station, where he consummated his breach -of the Sabbath by taking an evening train back to -Theale, and so returned to his home at the Aerated -Waters factory for the last night he was ever to pass -there.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The next morning, punctually at seven o'clock, -Lucy's father drew up his gig before the booking-office -of Theale station, and, getting a porter to hold the -horse, helped Lucy down and accompanied her on to -the station platform, where they found the Baines -family already assembled: Mrs. Baines gloomily seated -on a bench, Mr. Baines reading the old newspaper -placards of the closed bookstall, and John busy seeing -his numerous boxes labelled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hullo, Baines!—and ma'am—hope you're well -... a bit cast down, I expect? But there, it's a fine -career he's starting on.... Still, it's always a wrench. -John"—extending his hand—"I've just called in to -wish you good luck </span><em class="italics">and</em><span> a prosperous voyage </span><em class="italics">and</em><span> a -happy return, by and bye. Mind you make a comfortable -home out there for my little girl! I shall be -feeling about as bad as you feel, ma'am" (Mrs. Baines -kept a perfectly impassive face during these attempts -at sympathy and did not even look at the speaker), -"next—when is it to be? March?—when I come to -part with Lucy. But life's made up of partings and -meetings, which is why, some'ow, I don't like railway -stations. Now I can't stop, and if I could, I should -only be in the way. Must be off to market. Leave -you Lucy. She'll walk back to school. Good-bye, John...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Farmer Josling hurried out of the station and -his horse's hoofs sounded in quick succession on the -ascent to the main road. Lucy, left behind actually -found herself regretting that father had brought her -in such good time as to give her five-and-twenty -minutes or more of irresolute attendance on John. When -she had presented him with the slippers, had squeezed -his hand two or three times, and adjured him to write -from the first stopping-place, besides sending a -postcard from London to say he was leaving "all right"; -had made a few suggestions about his luggage which, -in spite of the urbanity of departure, were too futile -to be answered or adopted; and had insisted on pushing -the band of his blue tie under the shirt button at -the back of his neck, so that it might not rise up over -the collar: there seemed to be nothing left to say or do. -The bookstall was not yet opened so there were no -papers to be bought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She would have talked with Mrs. Baines, who had -retired to the little waiting-room and was pretending -there to read a great roll of texts in big print hung -against one of the walls. But at her first remark she -noticed Mrs. Baines's eyelids were quivering and her -under lip twitching in a way to indicate that she was a -prey to almost uncontrollable emotion. Although she -mechanically turned the leaves of the texts, her eyes -were not focussing them, and something seemed to be -moving up and down her lank throat which she could -not finally swallow. She only answered Lucy's remark -by an inarticulate gurgle and waved her away. There -was something so pathetic in her dismal ugliness, in -her awkwardly restrained emotion, that Lucy was -suddenly moved to pity as she returned to the platform. -Her embarrassment was cut short by the tumult -occasioned by the approaching train, heralded by the -clanging of the station bell. The train was full and John -had hurriedly to pass all the second class compartments -in review to find a place not only for himself but for -the amorphous packages deemed too frail for the -guard's van. When at last he had squeezed himself -and his parcels past the obstructing knees of the -established passengers; he had just time to twist round, -stretch out over his surly neighbours' laps, and squeeze -Lucy's timorously extended hand. Then the train gave -a lurch forward and a slide backwards which made him -nearly bite his tongue off in an attempt to say good-bye -to his parents, and finally rolled slowly out of the -station, while the forms of father, mother, and sweetheart -left standing on the platform grouped themselves for -one moment in an attitude of mute farewell before -the advance of the train cut them off from his sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The retreating chain of carriages shut itself up like -a telescope, and the station began to resume its sleepy -calm. Mrs. Baines's emotion now could no longer be -restrained from expression. She tottered towards the -waiting-room and sinking heavily on to a hard wooden -seat she choked and hiccupped and sobbed, and the -tears rolled regularly, one after the other, down her -cavernous cheeks. Lucy took her trembling hands and -tried to soothe her; and then, Mrs. Baines, softened by -this sympathy, lost all that remained of her self-control -and abandoned herself limply on Lucy's shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" she gasped, "I've parted with him in anger—he's -gone! ... Perhaps I shall never see him again.... -My boy.... My only son. I never said a kind -word to him before he left. I thought there would be -time.... I thought John would come and make it -up. I was cross because he went out walking with -you and came back late by train yesterday. You know -I always taught him to observe the Sabbath. But I'd -forgive him </span><em class="italics">anything</em><span> if he'd only come back and give -me </span><em class="italics">one</em><span> kiss ... my boy...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But John was well on his way to Reading, and the -London express, and all his mother's tardy plaints were -fruitless to recall him. Moreover, he was not -perceptive. To him, his mother's demeanour had seemed -much as usual; and he was certainly not conscious -that she had parted with him in anger. He was fond -of her in a way, but he had been used from childhood -to her being always in a huff about something or other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy restored her future mother-in-law to partial -calmness, straightened her bonnet, re-tied the bonnet -strings, and walked a little of the way back with her -towards Tilehurst, while Mr. Baines followed submissively -behind. For the rest of that day he enjoyed -unrebuked freedom to do as he liked. He ate his fill -and even smoked a pipe in the parlour. His wife -having regained her composure held aloof from him -in silent, stony grief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy fortunately encountered the innkeeper of -Aldermaston driving thither in a chaise and got a lift, -nearly as far as her home, a substantial farmstead on -the Mortimer road, close to both church and school. -This enabled her to begin her duties punctually. She -taught her girls and boys from nine to twelve and -two to four. She thought of John with gentle -melancholy during the day, and even shed a tear or two at -night when she concentrated her mind on the scenes of -her betrothed's departure, especially his mother's wild -display of grief. But the next morning as she walked -from the farmstead to the school she actually hummed -a gay tune as she picked a spray of wild roses from the -dewy hedge and arranged them round her light straw -hat. At the same time she had a twinge of remorse -at her forgetfulness—poor John was doubtless now at -sea watching England fade from the exile's view; -and she forced herself to assume before her scholars an -aspect of restrained grief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, as day after day of summer weather -went by in her surroundings of perfect beauty, she -confessed to herself she had seldom felt so happy, in -spite of her sweetheart's absence.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="sibyl-at-silchester"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">SIBYL AT SILCHESTER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>They had ridden over from opposite directions—he -from Farleigh Wallop on the downs south of -Basingstoke, she from Aldermaston in the Kennet -Valley: to meet on the site of the Roman Calleva -Atrebatum, the modern Silchester. This was in the -beginning of July, 1886. The Roman city of early Christian -Britain was then—and now—only marked by two-thirds -of an encircling wall of rough masonry, crowned -with ivy and even trees. There were grassy hummocks -concealing a forum, a basilica and a few houses. -An occasional capital of a column or obvious blocks -of ancient hewn stone, scattered here and there among -the herbage, made it clear, apart from tradition, that -the place of their rendezvous had a momentous past. -But its present was of purely agricultural interest—waving -fields of green wheat, sheep grazing on the -enclosed mounds, an opulent farmstead—unless you -were a landscape painter of the Birket Foster school: -then you raved about the thatched cottages, the old -church and its churchyard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On this July morning Captain Roger Brentham and -Sibyl Grayburn had the untilled portion of the site of -Calleva Atrebatum quite to themselves. This, no -doubt, was the reason why they had decided to meet -there for an explanation which the man deemed to -be due to him from the young woman. He, of course, -arrived first, but Sibyl was not long in making her -appearance from the direction of Silchester common. -A groom who rode behind her at the sight of Captain -Brentham touched his hat and trotted away.... -Brentham tied up the two horses in the shade of the -Roman wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sibyl disposed herself gracefully on a mound which -covered the site of a Roman dwelling, arranged the -long skirt of her riding habit so that the riding trousers -and other suggestions of her limbs might not be too -obvious to the male eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger was a captain in the Indian Army, about -twenty-eight or twenty-nine, strongly built, tanned in -complexion, supple in figure, good-looking, keen-eyed. -Sibyl Grayburn was a decidedly pretty young woman -of twenty-five, the daughter of Colonel Grayburn who -had recently moved from Aldershot to Aldermaston -and was trying to live the life of a gentleman farmer -on rather slender means. The Brenthams and Grayburns -of the younger generation were distant cousins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span> (seating himself on the mound not too near to -Sibyl, and scanning her attentively): "Well, you're -just as pretty as you were five years ago—a little -filled out perhaps.... And </span><em class="italics">this</em><span> is how we meet. -How </span><em class="italics">utterly</em><span> different from what I had been looking -forward to! I remember when we said good-bye at -Farleigh </span><em class="italics">how</em><span> you cried, and how for the first four -years you scarcely missed a mail.... And you can't -say </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> didn't write—when I got a chance.... Or -that I didn't work like a nigger to get a position to -afford to marry—and </span><em class="italics">now</em><span> I hear from Maud you're -going to marry Silchester. To tell you the truth it -didn't come as a complete shock. I saw hints of it in -some beastly Society paper that some one posted to -me at Aden—I suppose it was </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>! And this is what -women call </span><em class="italics">fidelity</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span> (at first keeps her eyes on the turf, but -presently looks Brentham defiantly in the face): "If women -of my own age were to discuss my case—not mere -romantic school girls—they would say I had acted -with ordinary common sense, and </span><em class="italics">very</em><span> unselfishly. I -am, as you know, twenty-five, and I'm sure you won't -have enough to marry on for several years—I should -never again get such a chance ... and I really </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> -like Lord Silchester, you don't know </span><em class="italics">how</em><span> kind he can -be—and you can't </span><em class="italics">really</em><span> care so very much. You -reached England a fortnight ago, and never even </span><em class="italics">wrote</em><span> -to me...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "I was too much taken aback by that -paragraph in the </span><em class="italics">World</em><span> ... and Maud gave me a hint in -the letter she sent to my club. Besides, I had to stop -in London to see the Foreign Office and the India Office -... and ... and to attend a missionary meeting" -(Sibyl ejaculates with scorn: "</span><em class="italics">Missionary</em><span> meeting!") -"and get some clothes.... I had nothing fit to wear -when I landed...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span>: "Well, I'm not blaming you. I only meant -that if you were so madly in love with me as you -pretend you would have dashed down to get a sight of me -before you went hobnobbing with your missionary -friends ... or bothered about clothes. I did not -want my engagement to come to you as a shock, so -I </span><em class="italics">did</em><span> post that </span><em class="italics">World</em><span> to you and got Gerry to address -it—and I told Maud, so that she might prepare you. -But </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> let's be calm and sensible and not waste time -in needless reproaches. I </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> get back to lunch. -We've got Aunt Christabel coming—she helped to -bring it about, you know." (Roger interpolates "</span><em class="italics">Damn</em><span> -her!") "She's got twice mother's determination.... -Dear old Roger.... I </span><em class="italics">am</em><span> sorry ... in a way ... but -you'll find </span><em class="italics">heaps</em><span> of girls, </span><em class="italics">much</em><span> nicer than I am, -ready to jump at the prospect of marrying you." (Here -Sibyl's eyes glanced with a little regret at his -turned-away face, with the bronzed cheek, the firm -profile and the upward twist of the dark moustache.) -"And you know our 'engagement' was only boy-and-girl -fun. Besides, now I know more about -things—I was so young when you went away—I don't -approve of cousins marrying.... Isn't their—I mean -aren't their ... children deaf and dumb or congenital -idiots, or something unpleasant?..." (And here -Sibyl, appropriately to the period in which she was -living, blushed a deeper rose than the ride had given -her at the audacity in alluding to children as the result -of marriage.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "Nonsense. Heaps of cousins marry and -everything turns out all right if they come of healthy -stock as we do. Besides, we're only second cousins. -But of course this is nothing but an evasion. You -thought you could do better for yourself by marrying -an elderly peer, and so you threw me over...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span>: "Well! I </span><em class="italics">did</em><span> think I might, and </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> selfishly. -There's papa—more or less in a financial tangle over -his farm.... There's mother, wearing herself ill, -trying to make both ends meet ... and Clara and -Juliet to be brought out, and the boys to be educated -and got into professions..." (crying a little or -pretending to do so out of self-pity) "...I know I'm -sacrificing myself for my family, but what would you -have me do? I shall soon become an old maid, and -you won't be able to marry for </span><em class="italics">ever</em><span> so long...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>(Roger mutters: "I've five hundred a year and...")</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span>: "Yes, but what could we do on that? Poor -papa could afford to give me nothing more than my -trousseau.... Even on seven hundred a year, </span><em class="italics">if</em><span> you -get a Consulate, we couldn't manage two households, -and I'm perfectly certain I couldn't stand the African -climate long, and I should have to come home. I </span><em class="italics">don't</em><span> -like roughing it, I should </span><em class="italics">dislike</em><span> hot countries; and I -</span><em class="italics">hate</em><span> black people.... No, Roger ... dear ... be -sensible... If you want to carve out a great career -in Africa or India you don't want to be hampered with -a wife for several years to come; and then ... I'll—I'll -find some really </span><em class="italics">nice</em><span> girl to marry you, somebody -with a little money. And Silchester might help you -enormously. They'll probably take him into the new -Government—aren't you glad that </span><em class="italics">horrid</em><span> old Gladstone's -</span><em class="italics">gone</em><span>?—He'll be at the Colonial Office or somewhere -like that and I know he'd do anything I asked -him, once we were married. If you still want to go -back to Africa he shall get you made a Consul or a -Governor or whatever it is you want...." But Roger -was not going to listen to anything so cold-blooded, -even though all the time an undercurrent of thought -was glancing at the advantages that might accrue from -Sibyl's </span><em class="italics">mariage de convenance</em><span>. He'd be </span><em class="italics">hanged</em><span> if -he'd take anything from Lord Silchester.... He was -entitled to some such appointment, anyway, after all -he had done. But there, he had lost all interest in life -and if he went to the bad, Sibyl would be to blame. -All his interest in an African career had been bound up -with Sibyl's sharing it. With her at his side he felt -equal to anything. He would conquer all Equatorial -Africa, strike at the Mahdi from the south, find Emin -Pasha, lay all Equatoria at the feet of Queen Victoria, -and in no time Sibyl would be Lady Brentham——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," interjected Sibyl, "and lose my complexion -and be old before my time, riding after you through -the jungle, or living stupidly like a grass widow at -home...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet as he jerked out his tirade rather theatrically she -noted him with an approving eye. His anger and -extravagance brought out a certain boyishness and, -made him, with the freedom of the jungle about him, -still additionally attractive physically.... He -certainly was good-looking and in the prime of manhood -... she sighed ... the remembrance of Lord Silchester's -pale, somewhat flabby face, his slightly pedantic -manner, his carefulness about his health.... He -rode—yes—they had already had decorous rides -together, but she imagined before the ride his cob had -had some of the freshness taken out of him by the -groom....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sibyl tried by broken phrases, and half-uttered hints, -to convey the idea that Lord Silchester being nearly -sixty—at any rate close on fifty-six—and not of -robust health, might not live for ever; though really she -wouldn't mind if </span><em class="italics">she</em><span> died first, men were so perfectly -hateful, and so was your family—if you were a -woman. You were expected to do all you could for -your family, and abused into the bargain by others -who held you bound by foolish promises made when -you were a mere girl without any knowledge of the -world. Still, there was a possibility—just a -possibility—for weren't we all mortal?—that she might -find herself a widow, a lonely widow some day. Roger -by then would have made a great career, become a sort -of Sir Samuel Baker; he'd have discovered and named -lakes after royalty; then they might meet again; and -who could say? Certainly, if it came to </span><em class="italics">love</em><span>, she -wouldn't deny she had never felt </span><em class="italics">quite</em><span> the same -towards any one as she had towards Roger....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Roger checked such philosophizings rudely, -saying they were positively indecent: at which she -expressed herself as very angry. Then leading out the -horses in eye-flashing silence, Roger helped her to -mount and swung himself into the saddle. He escorted -her silently to Aldermaston main street, raised his hat, -and rode off up the Mortimer road with a set face and -angry eyes on the way back to Basingstoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused however at Tadley to give his father's -cob—borrowed for the day—a feed and a rest. His -ride lay through one of the loveliest parts of England -in those days, before "Dora" had commandeered -timber from the woods—to find afterwards she did not -want it—before farmers had changed tiles or thatch -on barns to corrugated iron, and chars-à-bancs, motor -cycles and side-cars with golden-haired flappers, school -treats and bean feasts had made the country-side noisy, -dangerous and paper-strewn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Insensibly his mood softened as he rode. It was -more than four years since he had been home. Though -he had spent all of his youth in this country, save for -school and military college, his eyes seemed never -before to have taken in the charm of English landscapes. -Here was England at its best in the early part of July: -poppies blazing in the green corn and whitish green -oats, hay still lingering—grey on green—in the fields, -ox-eyed daisies fully out, wild roses still in bloom in -the hedge-rows, blue crane's bill, blue vetch, and -purple-blue campanulas in the copse borders. The plump -and placid cows, with swinging udders, so different -from the gaunt African cattle with a scarcely visible -milk-supply, the splendid cart-horses, the sheep—neat -and tidy after shearing—the cock pheasants running -across the sun-and-shadow-flecked roads, the cawing -rooks, and the cooing woodpigeons, the geese and -donkeys on the commons. Here and there, off the main -road, park gates of finely wrought iron with a trim -geranium-decked lodge and a vista of some charming -avenue towards an invisible great house; side turnings, -half-overgrown with turf, leading to villages quaintly -entitled. Some of the details his eye and ear and -nose took in—such as the braying of barrel organs on -the fringe of an unseen fair, on a rather burnt and -blackened gipsy-befouled common; or the smell of pig-sties -in a hamlet, or placards in big print pasted round -an ancient stump or on an old oak paling—it was -irrational to call beautiful. But together they made up -England at its best, with old churches packed with the -history of England, the little towns so prosperous, the -straggling villages, beautiful if insanitary, the -signposts with their agreeable Anglo-Saxon and Norman -names, so pleasing to the eye after years of untracked -wilderness; the postman trudging his round in -red-and-black, the gamekeeper in velveteen, the hearty -labourers in corduroy, blue-shirted, bare-armed and -hairy chested. All this was England. "Was there -a jollier country in the world?" (There was not, in -1886.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as to Sibyl.... How differently he saw her -now, after four years! As pretty as paint, though -rather overheated after a short ride; but </span><em class="italics">how</em><span> artificial! -What a delusion to suppose such a woman would have -cared for a rough life in Africa. Why she even spoke -slightingly of India, a country of romance far -exceeding Africa. Indeed, he had only turned to Africa and -African problems because all the great careers to be -made in India were seemingly over.... There was -nothing to be done in India without powerful backing....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Backing? It was perhaps silly to have flouted the -suggestion of Lord Silchester's influence.... It was -difficult unless you were related to permanent officials -or members of Parliament to get a Consular -commission in East Africa. Why not gradually—gradually -of course—it wouldn't do to forgive her too -quickly—become reconciled to Sibyl's marriage and pursue -instead his second desire, a great African career?...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So it was a comparatively happy Roger Brentham -who cantered up the road to the vicarage at Farleigh -Wallop in the late afternoon of that day and sat with his -sister Maud in the arbour enjoying a sound English -tea. Maud, a pleasant-faced young woman of thirty, -the only sister of three stalwart brothers, one a soldier, -another a sailor and the third intending to be a -barrister; housekeeper to her father, an absent-minded -archæologist; could not be called pretty, because she -was too much like a young man of twenty-five with -almost a young man's flat figure, but she was in every -way satisfactory as a sister. Her father was out on -some archæological ramble and she was glad of it -because she thought Roger might have come to her with -a heart to mend. No doubt he felt heart-broken over -Sibyl's defection. She looked at him inquiringly while -she poured out tea, but would not of course broach -the subject.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've been out a long time with the cob. I hope -you haven't over-ridden him? Where did you go?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To Silchester and back; but I baited him at -Tadley and gave him an hour's rest in Basingstoke; and -another hour at Silchester. I've jogged along very -quietly, looking up old haunts—and—and I've seen -Sibyl Grayburn. She told me all about her engagement."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sibyl? Then—you don't mind so much? I -hardly knew how to break it to you...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Mind</em><span>? Oh, well, there </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> a boy-and-girl engagement, -a flirtation between us before I went away, as -you knew. But Africa drove all that out of my mind. -Besides, how can I marry on five hundred a year? I -dare say Sibyl has done well for herself, and she's -getting on. Girls can't afford to wait and look about -them like a man can. By the bye, old girl, why doesn't -some one come along and marry </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>? I don't know -a better sort of wife than </span><em class="italics">you'd</em><span> make...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Maud</em><span>: "Thank you, Roger, I'm sure you mean it. -But I don't suppose I shall ever marry. My line is to -look after father for the rest of his life, and then -become everybody's aunt. I'm really his curate, you -know. And his clerk and his congregation, very often. -Oh, I'm quite happy; don't pity me; I couldn't have -nicer brothers ... or perhaps a nicer life. I love -Farleigh——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span> (not noticing, man-like, the tiny, tiny sigh -that accompanied this renunciation of marriage): -"Jove! How jolly all this is: you're right. If I -wasn't a man I should think like you. What could -one have better than this?" And he looked away -from the arbour and the prettily furnished tea-table to -the well-kept lawn with long shadows from the -herbaceous border. Beyond that the wooded slopes of -Farleigh Down and the distant meadows of the lowland, -and then the sun-gilt roofs of Basingstoke's northern -suburb, and the distant trains, three, four, five miles -away with their trails of cotton-wool smoke indicating -a busy world beyond the quietude of the vicarage -garden. He could see the slight trace of a straight Roman -road athwart the northern landscape, Winchester to -Silchester; the downs of Hannington and Sydmonton -and the far-off woods of Sherborne. When he was -queer with sun-fever in Somaliland he would sometimes -be tantalized by this view, like a mirage, instead -of the brown-grey sun-scorched plains ringed by low -ridges of table-topped mountains and dotted with -scrubby acacias, whitened by the drought ... and -would pull himself together, sit upright in the saddle -and wonder if he would ever see home again. And -here he was.... Hang Sibyl!...</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>So when Sibyl Grayburn married Lord Silchester at -the end of that July—because he was fifty-six and -impatient to have some summer for his honeymoon -before returning to take up the burden—a well-padded -one—of office in the Conservative Government—Captain -Roger Brentham was among the guests, the -relations of the bride. And his best leopard skin, -suitably mounted, was in Sibyl's boudoir at Englefield -awaiting Lady Silchester's return from the Tyrol.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And in the winter of 1886, Captain Brentham received -from Lord Wiltshire the offer of a Consulate on -the Last Coast of Africa and accepted it. It was -provisionally styled the Consulate for the Mainland of -Zangia where the Germans were already beginning to -take up the administration, but Brentham was -instructed to reside at first at Unguja, the island -immediately opposite the temporary German capital. The -British Consul-General for the whole of Zangia had -been recalled because of heated relations with -Germany. Pending his return Captain Brentham was to -act as Consul-General without, however, taking too -much on himself, as Mr. Bennet Molyneux of the -African Department rather acidly told him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Molyneux, at the Foreign Office, was not at all -pleased at Brentham's appointment: one of those things -that Lord Wiltshire was wont to do without consulting -the permanent officials. Molyneux had not long -been in the new African Department (hitherto -disparagingly connected with the Slave Trade section); and -as Africa had barely entered world-politics, British -Ministers of State showed themselves usually indifferent -as to how the necessary appointments were filled -up, adopting generally names suggested by Molyneux, -so that he was accustomed to nominating his poor -relations—he had a reserve of wastrel nephews and -cousins—or the friends of his friends—such as Spencer -Bazzard (q.v., as they say in Encyclopædias). If -they were "rotters," the climate generally killed them -off in a few months; if they made good, they established -in time a claim on the Foreign Office regard and -got transferred to Consular posts in South America, -the Mediterranean, and Western Europe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Lord Wiltshire was not always asleep or -uninformed, as he sometimes appeared to be. So his -Private Secretary countered Bennet Molyneux's querulous -Memo on Captain Brentham's lack of qualification for -such a responsible East African post by reminding him -that the gentleman in question was well versed in -Arabic through having accompanied a Political -Mission to the Persian Gulf, that he had served in Aden -and Somaliland and had conducted an expedition to the -Snow Mountains of East Africa for the Intelligence -Division, had contributed papers to the Royal -Geographical Society, was a silver medallist of the -Zoological Society, and was personally vouched for by a -colleague of Lord Wiltshire's: all of which information -for the African Department was summed up by the -Private Secretary to Molyneux in a few words: "See -here, Molly; take this and look pleasant. You can't -have all the African appointments in your gift. You -must leave a few to the Old Man. He generally knows -what he's about." So Molyneux asked Brentham to -dine with him and apparently made the best of a bad -job ... as he said with a grin to his colleague, Sir -Mulberry Hawk.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="lucy-hesitates"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">LUCY HESITATES</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When the school holidays supervened, Lucy spent -her vacation quietly at Aldermaston working at -her African outfit—material and mental—in a -desultory way. She supposed she would have to leave in -the following April to join her betrothed. April -seemed a long while ahead. She had not even given -notice to the school managers yet of her intention to -give up teaching. It would not be necessary to do so -or to brace her mind for the agony of separation from -her home until John had announced that all was in -readiness and she had received the formal intimation of -his Missionary Society that they approved of her going -out to join him and would make the necessary -arrangements for a steamer passage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meantime she gave herself up to the delight of -reading such books about African exploration or mission -life in Africa as she could obtain from the Reading -libraries. They served to strengthen her determination -to keep faith with John; while other ties and -loves were pulling the other way. She had in her -veins that imaginational longing to see strange lands -and travel which is such an English trait; yet this -longing alternated with fits of absolute horror at her -foolishness in having consented to such an engagement. -Why could she not have recognized when she was -well off? Could any one in her station of life have -a more delightful home?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The farmstead stood on a slope about a hundred feet -above the Kennet Valley. The river was a mile away, -though little subsidiary brooks and channels permeated -the meadows in between, and in spring, summer and -autumn produced miracles of loveliness in flower -shows: purple loosestrife, magenta-coloured willow -herb, mauve-tinted valerian, cream-coloured meadow-sweet, -yellow flags, golden king-cups, yellow and white -water-lilies, water-crowsfoot and flowering rush. -Lucy was an unexpressed, undeveloped artist, with an -exceptional appreciation (for a country girl) of the -beauty in colour and form of flowers and herbage of -the velvety, blue-green, black-green cedars which rose -above the wall of the Park and overshadowed the -churchyard, of the superb elms, oaks, horse-chestnuts, -ashes and hawthorns studding the grassy slopes between -the house and the water meadows. She loved the rich -crimson colour of the high old brick walls of the Park -and the same tint in the farm buildings, varied with -scarlet and orange and the lemon and grey of lichen -and weather-stain. The old farm-house in which she -had been born and had passed all her twenty-four years -of placid life, save when she was at boarding-school, -seemed to her just perfect in its picturesque ancientry -and its stored smells of preserved good things to eat -and drink. Their garden was carelessly ordered, but -from March to October had a wealth of flowers, the -spicy odours of box borders, the pungent scent of -briar and honeysuckle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did take much interest in the details of -farming—a trifle of self-conceit made her think herself -superior in her bookishness and feeble water-colour -painting to her younger sisters, who were already -experts in poultry-tending, butter-making, and -bread-baking. But she accepted as a matter of course the -delicious results (as we should think them now) of -living at a well-furnished, well-managed farm: the -milk and cream, the fresh butter and new-laid eggs, -the home-cured bacon, the occasional roast duck and -chicken; the smell of the new-mown hay, the sight of -ripe wheat or wheat neatly grouped in its golden -sheaves in chessboard pattern; the September charms -of the glinting stubble with its whirring coveys of -partridges, its revived flower shows—scarlet and blue, -bright yellow, dead white, lavender, russet, and mauve; -the walnuts in the autumn from their own trees; the -Spanish chestnuts from the Park; impromptu Christmas -dances in the big barn; an occasional visit to a -theatre or a magic-lantern-illustrated lecture in -Reading. On one such occasion she saw for the first time -Captain Roger Brentham, the explorer, who whilst -staying with Lord and Lady Silchester gave a lecture -on his recent travels and some wonderful snow -mountain he had visited in East Africa.... Why should -she seek to leave such surroundings? She could read -and hear about all that was most interesting in the -world without leaving her parents and her home. Yet, -to disappoint poor John, who counted on her coming -out to share his work—and if she threw him over -she might never get another offer of marriage and -grow stout and florid like Bessie Rayner, ten years -older than she was, up at the Grange farm....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> marriage after all, with its children and -illnesses and house drudgery, so </span><em class="italics">very</em><span> attractive to a -dreamer? Might she not be happier if she passed all -the rest of her life at Aldermaston, saving up her salary -as a school-mistress against old age and a possible -leaving of the farm if—ever so far ahead—dear -father died? She had often thought, with a little -encouragement she might </span><em class="italics">write</em><span> ... write stories! ... and -she thrilled at the idea. But then, what -experience had she of the world—the great world -beyond southern Berkshire—which she could set down -on paper?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So far, no one had proposed to her—even John -had hardly asked her definitely to marry him. He had -always taken it for granted, since he was eighteen, -that she would, and from that age herself she had -tacitly accepted the position of his fiancée. Why had -she acquiesced? There was a weakness of fibre about -her and John's stronger will had impressed itself on -her smiling compliance. Her mother had rather -pursed her lips at the alliance, having her doubts as to -John being good enough, and John's mother being even -bearable as a mother-in-law. This faint opposition -had made Lucy determined to persevere with the -engagement. She had a distaste for a farmer type of -husband; it seemed too earthy. And she wanted to -travel. A missionary ought to make a refined spouse -and be able to show her the strange places of the earth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were sides of John's character she did not like. -She was not naturally pious. The easy-going Church -of England and its decorous faith were good enough -for her; she loved this world—the world of the -Kennet Valley with genial, worldly Reading on one side -and not-too-disreputable, racing Newbury on the -other—too well to care overmuch for the Heavenly Home -in which John was staking out claims; if she had -known the word she would have called John priggish; -instead, she said "sanctimonious." Yet withal she -was conscious of a certain manliness, a determined -purpose about him....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps, however, in the summer months and the -rich contentment of September the balance of her -inclination might have been tilted against him, she -might have nerved herself to writing that cruel letter -which should say she shrank from joining him in -Africa; were it not that he wrote faithfully from each -stopping place, each crisis on his journey. His -letters—closely written in a facile running hand on thin -foreign paper—were stuffed with conventionally pious -phrases, they contained diatribes on his ungodly -fellow-passengers who broke the Sabbath (with an added zest -from his remonstrances), played cards for money, -told shocking stories in the smoking-room, and -conducted themselves on shore in a manner which he -could not describe. But then he gave very good -descriptions of Algiers, of Port Said, Suez and Aden, -and made her wish to see these places with her own -eyes, smell their strange smells, and eat their strange -viands. His letter from Unguja announcing his -arrival there in August finally decided Lucy to throw in -her lot with John.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was also the further incentive that African -adventure—missionary and political—was again -becoming fashionable and attracting attention. Stanley -was starting to find Emin Pasha; others had embarked -or threatened to embark on the same quest. More and -more missionaries were going out. It was rumoured -that Ann Jamblin had announced her intention to take -up a missionary career. Lucy wrote a little anxiously -to inquire. Ann admitted she had toyed with the idea -as she believed herself capable of teaching and even -of preaching to the savage. But if she did go it would -probably be to West Africa where the climate was -even more deadly than in the South and East, and -such a sacrifice might be more acceptable before the -Heavenly Throne than the comfortable and assured -position of a missionary's wife, not expected to do -more than make a home for her husband.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>John's first Unguja letter said that Thomas, Bayley, -Anderson and himself had been very kindly received -there by the Commercial Agent to the East African -Mission—commercial because from the first it had -been decided that a reasonable degree of trade should -go hand in hand with fervent propaganda and -Brotherhood work. The Mission must strive to make itself -self-supporting in the long run as it had no rich church -behind it. So there were to be lay agents who traded -in the products of the country and whose stores would -prove an additional attraction to the native visitor and -inquirer. The Agent at their Unguja -depôt—Mr. Callaway—had been a trader on the West Coast of -Africa, agent there to a great distilling firm; who had -become so shocked at the effects of cheap intoxicants -on the native mind and morals that he had thrown up -his employ and enlisted under the banner of a Trading -Mission, pledged not to deal in alcohol or gunpowder. -Mr. Callaway had "got religion" and "found Christ" -(in Liverpool), but in spite of that—the naïve John -wrote thus unthinkingly—was a very pleasant fellow -who had soon picked up the native language and got -on good terms with the Arabs of Unguja. The latter -fully approved of his teetotalism—avoidance of -alcohol being one of the few good points in their religion. -John described with unction the prayer meetings and -services they held in Mr. Callaway's sheds and -go-downs on the shore of Unguja's port; though he had -to admit that his fervour had been a little modified by -the rancid smell of the copra[#] stored in these quarters -and the appalling stench that arose from the filth on the -beach. But there was plenty of good Christian -fellowship at Unguja. The representatives of the great -Anglican Mission established there—with a -Cathedral and a Bishop and a thoroughly popish style of -service—had shown themselves unexpectedly good -fellows. One of them, Archdeacon Gravening, had -presented the four young recruits for the East African -Mission to the Arab sultan, and they had seen him -review his Baluchi and Persian troops at the head of -whom was an English ex-naval officer. Even the -Fathers of the French Roman Catholic settlement had -a certain elemental Christianity he had never thought -to find in the followers of the Scarlet Woman....</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] Dried coco-nut pulp.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The great British Balozi or Consul-General who had -been the unacknowledged ruler of Unguja had just left -for home ... rumour said because he could not get -on with the aggressive Germans, who were obtaining -a hold over the country. They had paid their respects -instead to British authority in the person of a very -uppish and sneering Vice-Consul—Mr. Spencer -Bazzard ... who had great doubts of the value of -Christianity so far as the negro was concerned. -Mr. Bazzard, however, was dead against the Germans and -wanted as many British subjects as possible to enter -the interior behind the German coast so as to "queer -their pitch," if they attempted to put their "rotten -protectorate," in force.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Unguja, John wrote, was a wonderfully interesting -island, despite its horrible smells, its heat and -mosquitoes, which never left you alone, day or night. -Such a mixture of Arabs and Persians, Indian traders, -fierce, long-haired Baluchis, plausible Goanese -half-castes, Madagascar people, Japanese and Chinese, and -negroes from all parts of Africa.... He had already -had a touch of fever and Bayley had broken out in -boils; Anderson had suffered from diarrhoea; but all -three were overjoyed at the prospect of leaving, soon -after this letter was posted, in an Arab "dhow" -which would convey them and the porters of their -expedition to Lingani on the mainland, whence they -would start on a two weeks' journey up-country. -They were taking with them Snider rifles and ammunition -to defend their caravan against wild beasts on -the road and also to shoot game for the caravan's meat -supply. At Mr. Callaway's advice they had been -practising with these rifles at the shooting butts of the -Sultan's army for the past week.... Thomas had -been told off for Taita....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then ensued a long silence and Lucy, now thoroughly -interested, was getting anxious. But in -January came a letter of many pages headed "Hangodi, -Ulunga, November, 1886." John wrote that he and -his companions had encountered many difficulties. On -the fortnight's march inland from Lingani their porters -had several times run away in alarm, hearing that a -bloodthirsty tribe called "Wahumba" were on the -march, or that there was famine ahead. The German -traders on the coast had not been friendly, and the -attitude of the Arab chiefs in the coast-belt was surly. -However, one of these Arabs, Ali bin Ferhani, was a -kindlier man than the others and had told off some of -his slaves (John feared they were, but what could you -do?) to carry their loads to the Ulunga country. They -also had with them a Christian convert, a native of -Ulunga and a released slave (Josiah Briggs) who -could speak English to some extent and was very -useful as an interpreter and head man.... Well, they -had reached Hangodi at last and liked its surroundings. -There were mountains—quite high ones—all round. -Hangodi, itself, was over three thousand feet above -sea level and quite cool at nights. Indeed John now -regretted he had spurned the idea of mantel-borders, -for they had fireplaces in the dwelling-houses, both -those already built and those they were planning. A -fire at night, in fact, was often welcome and cheerful. -The Chief approved of the settlement, wanted them to -teach his people, and keep off the "Wa-dachi," as he -called the Germans, whom he did not seem to like. -But the Chief's people, the Wa-lunga, were suspicious -and quarrelsome, and as he could not speak their -language and had to explain the Gospel through an -interpreter, they paid him little attention. The elders of -the tribe liked to come and talk with him in his -verandah, that is to say, </span><em class="italics">they</em><span> did the talking—punctuated -by a good deal of snuff-taking and spitting; and he -gleaned what he could of its sense from the summaries -given to him by Josiah Briggs. It seemed to consist -of many questions as to how the white men became -so rich and why he could not teach this method to -their young people. If he tried to expound Sacred -things to them they asked in return for a cough -medicine or to be shown how to make gunpowder and caps, -and how to cure a sick cow. Yet he felt sure their -minds would be pierced ere long by a gleam of Gospel -light....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were also some Muhammadan traders from -the Coast settled for a time with the Chief, who, he -strongly suspected, was selling them slaves, war-captives. -Though the Chief seemed willing to listen to -their story of the Redeemer, he nevertheless sent out -his "young men," his warriors, on raiding expeditions -against the tribes to the south, and they sometimes -returned from such forays with cattle, with men cruelly -tied with bush-rope and their necks fastened to heavy -forked sticks, and with weeping young women whom -they took as wives.... The Wangwana, as these -black "Arabs" were called, were very hostile to his -mission—more so sometimes than the real Arabs. -Occasionally he had met a white-skinned Arab who -reminded him most strongly of the Bible patriarchs, -and who seemed very desirous of being on friendly -terms with the white man. But these black Arabs who -spoke Swahili, the language of Unguja, though they -affected outward politeness, were working hard against -the good influence of the East African Mission and -trying to persuade the Chief to reconsider his first -grant of land and expel the white people who were -spies in the service of the great Balozi and the English -men-of-war, watching to intercept slave dhows....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The children of the Wa-lunga were frightened of him -and his two companions and could not be induced, -even by gifts of beads, to sit on their knees. But their -mothers, on the other hand, worried the white men -incessantly for beads and calico, soap and salt, which -last they ate as though it was a sweetmeat. Yet they -ran away when he sent for the interpreter and tried to -tell them about God. One woman had shouted back -at him that it was very wicked to talk about God; it -would only draw down the lightning ... much -better leave God alone and then He left you -alone—this at least was how Josiah had translated her -speech.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He could not see any idols about the place. He -fancied the people worshipped the spirits of the -departed, which they believed to dwell in large hollow -trees. They were also terribly afraid of witch-craft....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hangodi was, however, rather a pretty district, and -Lucy would be pleased with the site the Mission had -chosen. Bayley, who had some knowledge of surveying, -made out its altitude above sea-level to be 3,500 -feet, more or less. There was a clear stream of water -running through a gorge below the Mission enclosure—for -they had constructed a rough hedge. A few -wild date palms might be seen in the stream valley and -there were plenty of pretty ferns and wild flowers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As to lions; they could be heard roaring every night -in the open country, but hitherto he had not actually -seen one. Then with a few devout phrases and others -expressive of his longing for her to join him the letter -came to a conclusion.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>During all this time Lucy saw little of the Baines -family. But a few days after she had read this letter -from Hangodi, Mr. Baines called on Lucy at the -school—it was at the beginning of February—and put into -her hands a copy of </span><em class="italics">Light to Them that Sit in Darkness</em><span>. -"There's a letter in here of John's which they've -printed," said Mr. Baines with considerable exultation, -"and mother thought you might like to read it. Mind -you return the magazine to her when you've done so. -Good-bye. S'pose you are starting in a couple of -months?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy found a column scored at the side with pencil, -where the following matter appeared:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>BLESSED NEWS FROM EAST AFRICA</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We have received the following intelligence from Brother John -Baines, who has recently joined the East African Mission:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>HANGODI, NGURU,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">November</em><span> 20, 1886.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>MY DEAR MR. THOMPSON,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We arrived here about a month ago after a pleasant stay -with the brethren at Unguja. We reached Hangodi in about -two weeks of travel from the port of Lingani, accompanied by -Broth's Anderson and Bayley, and were greeted most warmly -on arrival by Brothers Boley and Batworth—the "busy B.'s," -as they are called—who feared from the rumours afloat that we -should be stopped by native disturbances on the road. We -brought with us from Unguja Josiah Briggs, a convert who was -originally a freed slave from this very district of Hangodi. He -has lived for five years at our depôt in Unguja or at the -Presbyterian Mission station at Dombasi. He will be able to assist -me materially as interpreter among the Wa-lunga as Kagulu is -his native tongue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The journey from Lingani to Hangodi was rather a fatiguing -one as the donkeys we took with us to ride either fell sick -poisoned by some herb, or strayed and were eaten by lions. So -we ended by having to walk. Our Unguja porters ran away -before we had got far inland, scared by rumours of Wahumba -raids or stories of the famine raging in the interior; but a -kindly Arab, who is supposed to have known Dr. Livingstone, -came to our assistance and sent a large number of his people to -convey us and our loads to Ulunga, as this district is called -(the root—</span><em class="italics">lunga</em><span>—means the "good" or the "beautiful" -country, as indeed it will be, when it has received the Blessed -Gospel).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Goulburn, who is pioneering and is "spying out the land" -to the north, travelled with us as far as Gonja and then quitted -us, after we had prayed together in my tent. We turned south -and continued our journey to the Ulunga mountains with the -Arab's porters and guided by Josiah Briggs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The country became very hilly, and as it was the beginning -of the rainy season we had occasional violent thunder-storms -and the streams were difficult to cross. Fortunately, however, -the early arrival of the rains kept us from attacks on the part -of the terrible roving tribes of Masai or "Wahumba," who only -seem to exist to raid and ravage their agricultural neighbours, -but who don't like doing so in wet weather. Moreover, they -appreciate the springing up of the new green grass after the -drought and prefer taking their cattle—whom they worship—out -to graze. This new grass attracts to the district incredible -herds of antelopes and zebras and gives the lions and leopards -such abundance of food and occupation that they never deemed -it worth their while to attack our caravan, though during the -dry season—the Arabs told us—you could hardly get through -the plains without losing a proportion of your carriers from -lions, leopards or hyenas. This early breaking of the rainy -season therefore seemed to us an act of special intervention on -the part of Divine Providence to ensure our safe arrival at our -destination. When we reached Hangodi we were hospitably -received by the Chief Mbogo, to whom Brother Batworth -introduced us. Mbogo rules over the district of Ulunga. He -rejoiced greatly that we had come to teach the Gospel and asked -me many questions about the Christian faith. An earnest spirit -of inquiry prevails amongst all his people, who are flocking to -see us and who listen with rapt attention to my simple exhortations -delivered through the medium of Josiah. The Arab traders -at this place are very annoyed that an English missionary should -settle here and expose their wicked traffic in slaves, but I hope -to be able to frustrate their intrigues and induce the Chief to -expel them. For that reason I am working hard at the language -with Josiah and with the vocabularies I have obtained from -Mr. Goulburn and Mr. Boley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Many of the women in this place are eager to hear the blessed -tidings and bring their little ones with them while they listen -spell-bound to our teaching. I trust soon to have beside me -one whose sweet duty it will be to lead these poor sinful -creatures into the way of Truth and Life....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The building of the houses, school and chapel was commenced, -as you know, two years ago by Brothers Boley and Batworth, -whom we relieved, and who are going to Taita to perform -similar work for Mr. Goulburn. In completing the station we shall -be our own architects, but Mr. Callaway has sent us up two -Swahili masons and a Goanese carpenter from Unguja. Anderson -is already doing a brisk business at our improvised store.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now, dear Mr. Thompson, I remain in all Christian love,</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Yours sincerely,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>JOHN BAINES.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="roger-s-dismissal"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">ROGER'S DISMISSAL</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"So it is really settled, Roger, that you are to go out -to that African place with the violent -name—something about 'gouging' I know," said Lady -Silchester, one evening in the winter-spring of 1887.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She believed she was </span><em class="italics">enceinte</em><span> and treated herself—and -was being treated—with the utmost consideration. -Lord Silchester was transfused with delight at the -possibility of having a direct heir and promised himself -the delicious revenge of taunting those officious friends -and advisers who had taxed him with folly in marrying -a woman thirty years younger than himself. So -she was lying on a couch in the magnificent drawing-room -of 6a Carlton House Terrace, clad in some -anticipation of the tea-gown. It was nine o'clock in the -evening, and Roger Brentham had been summoned to -dine alone with her and her husband and talk over his -personal affairs. Lord Silchester would presently leave -for the House of Lords; meantime he was half listening -to their conversation, half absorbed in a volume of -Cascionovo's </span><em class="italics">Neapolitan Society in the Eighteenth -Century</em><span> in its French edition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger, with one eye and one ear on Lord Silchester, -replied "Yes. Lord Wiltshire has definitely offered -me the appointment—through Tarrington, of course—his -Private Secretary; and equally definitely I've -accepted it. But technically it's not Unguja, nothing -so big. Unguja is an Agency and Consulate-General -and is still held by Sir James Eccles, who is only at -home on leave of absence. My post is a Consulate for -the mainland, for the part the German company is -taking over. It is styled 'for the mainland of Zangia -with residence at the port of Medina.' It is supposed -the Germans are going to style their new protectorate -'Zangia,' the old classical name of the Persians for -that part of East Africa."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sibyl Silchester yawned slightly and concealed the -yawn with her fan of Somali ostrich plumes which -Roger had given her. Lord Silchester put down his -book and turned suddenly towards Roger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you get on at the F.O.?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, pretty well, sir," replied Roger, who still kept -up his military manners with older men in higher -positions than his own. "Pretty well. I've been -working in the African Department all the autumn and -I think I've got the hang of things; I mean, how to -conduct a Consulate and the sort of policy we are to -observe in East Africa. I've been down in Kent, also, -staying with Sir James Eccles and being indoctrinated -by him with the aims and ambitions he has been -pursuing ever since 1866. He's a grand man! I hope -they send him back. I should be proud to serve under -him. Of course, I saw something of him at Unguja -in '85-'86..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"H'm, well, I've no business to express an opinion, -but I much doubt whether Wiltshire </span><em class="italics">will</em><span> send him -back—Wiltshire sets much value on good terms with -Germany, and Eccles is hated by the Germans...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "I know.... They've told me I must try -to maintain friendly relations with our Teutonic -friends, especially as I am to be, when the -Consul-General returns, 'on my own,' so to speak, in the -German sphere of influence. Meantime I am to live at -Unguja and 'act' for the Consul-General till he or -some one else comes out. Awfully good of you, sir, -to get this chance for me ... it's rare good luck to -be going out to act straight away for a man like Eccles.... -I'll try my utmost to do you credit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Silchester</em><span>: "I don't doubt you will. But don't -rely too much on my personal influence. I'm only -Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster ... a -minister without portfolio, so to speak. Cultivate the -friendship of the permanent officials. Once you're -in—I mean once a Secretary of State has given you the -appointment, </span><em class="italics">they</em><span> are the people who count. I -remember when I was in diplomacy there was rather -an uppish young fellow from the 11th Hussars who'd -been somebody's A.D.C. in the Abyssinian War. -Dizzy, to oblige 'somebody,' shoved him into the -Slave Trade Commission. He took himself and his -duties seriously and really did go for the American -slave-traders. An Under Secretary hauled him over -the coals for </span><em class="italics">trop de zèle</em><span>. Lord Knowsley supported -him. The Under Secretary sent for him afterwards -and said, 'Remember this, Bellamy; Lord Knowsley -is not </span><em class="italics">always here</em><span>. WE ARE.' And sure enough after -Knowsley left they found out something against him -and 'outed' him from the service. Moral: always -keep in with the permanent officials and you'll never -fall out with the Secretary of State. Do you get on -all right with 'Lamps'?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "Sir Mulberry? I scarcely ever see him. -He's much too big a pot to take an interest in me. -Besides, he's keenest about the Niger just now. No, -I have mostly to do with Bennet Molyneux, who is -head of the Department; and I'm afraid I don't care -overmuch for him. I like awfully the clerks in the -Department except that they don't take Africa very -seriously, think it all a joke, a joke bordering rather on -boredom. Still, they're some of the jolliest fellows I -know. It's Molyneux I can't hit it off with, and they -say in the Department it's because I've come in between -some poor relation, some cousin of his he wants to push -on out there. He got him appointed a Vice-Consul a -year or two back and thought he was going to be asked -to act for Eccles whilst he was on leave. And now -that Lord Wiltshire has said </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> am to—I don't doubt -at your suggestion, sir—Molyneux has turned quite -acid. Especially when he had to draft my instructions! -I think also he didn't like my setting him right when I -first came to work in the office. He wrote some -minutes about the Slave Trade and about the Germans -which were the uttermost rubbish you ever read, and -he never forgave me for not backing him up at a -departmental committee they held—Sir Mulberry -presided. And the mere fact that Thrumball and -Landsdell have been awfully kind to me and had me to -dine with them seems to have soured him. And -when one day Lord Wiltshire sent for me to answer -some questions—Well, I thought afterwards Molyneux -would have burst with spleen. He threw official -reserve to the winds and walked up and down in his -big room raving—'</span><em class="italics">I've</em><span> been in this office since 1869,' -he said, 'and I don't believe Lord Wiltshire knows me -by sight. Yet he's ready to send for the veriest -outsider if he thinks he can get any information out of -him. The Office is going to the dogs—and so on....'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Lord Silchester</em><span>: "Molyneux, Bennet Molyneux. -I know him. Not a bad fellow in some respects, but -a bad enemy to make. He is a kind of cousin of -Feenix's—Colonial Office, you know. Well, your fate -is in your own hands ... you must walk warily..." -(at this a servant enters and informs his lordship that -the carriage is waiting) "I must be off. Sibyl! you -</span><em class="italics">won't</em><span> stay up late? Roger, don't talk to her for more -than an hour. Good-bye. Of course, you'll come and -see us before you actually sail?..." (goes out).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A pause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span>: "You may smoke now; but only a cigarette, -not a cigar." (Roger lights a cigarette.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span>: "What dear old Francis said was very good -advice. Mind you follow it. Get on the right side of -these old permanencies. Whenever Francis begins his -instances and illustrations I feel what a perfect book -of reminiscences he will some day write. But, of -course, it wouldn't do till he's reached an age when he -can no longer serve in the Government.... I want -him some day to be at the Foreign Office or at least -the India Office. I do so love the pomp of those -positions, the great parties in the season, the entertaining -of delightful creatures from the East with jewelled -turbans...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span> (a little abruptly): "Are you happy....?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span> (turning her head and looking at him -intently): "</span><em class="italics">Happy</em><span>? Why, </span><em class="italics">of course</em><span>. </span><em class="italics">Perfectly</em><span> -happy. Everything has gone splendidly. And now -that I'm going to have a child.... I do hope it'll -be a boy. Francis would be so happy. You quite -realize if he has no heir the peerage and all the entailed -estates go away to some perfectly horrid second cousin -out in Australia...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "In view of that possibility I wonder he did -not marry years ago, when he was a young man...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span>: "My dear! How </span><em class="italics">could</em><span> he? He was a -younger son and in the diplomatic service with barely -enough to live on, respectably. And then he got -tangled up with another man's wife. He thinks I know -nothing about that side of him, but as a matter of fact -I know everything. His elder brother, the fifth Lord -Silchester, was an awfully bad lot—treated his wife -very badly—they were separated and their only son -was brought up by his mother to be dreadfully -goody-goody. Francis's elder brother died in Paris—I -daresay you have heard or read where and how. It was -one of the closing scandals of the Second Empire. -But then the goody-goody son married after he -succeeded—married a sister of Lord Towcester. She -was killed in the hunting field and her rather limp -husband died of grief afterwards, or of consumption, -and Francis came into the title rather unexpectedly -five years ago. Then he was embarrassed by his Darby -and Joan attachment to Mrs. Bolsover.—However, -then </span><em class="italics">she</em><span> died—and so—at last he felt free to -marry....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I met him first at a croquet party at Aldermaston -Park. I saw </span><em class="italics">at once</em><span> he was struck with me.... -However, we won't go over the old argument again -which we talked out that day at Silchester.... D'you -remember? My ankles were so bitten by harvest-bugs -after sitting on those mounds, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> shan't forget!..." -(meditates).... "I'm much happier than if I had -married you.... My dear, that would </span><em class="italics">never</em><span> have -done.... But that need not prevent our being the -</span><em class="italics">best</em><span> of friends, the most attached of cousins.... It's -a bore having a confinement in the Jubilee year.... -I'd meant to rival Suzanne Feenix in my entertainments.... -But if I give Silchester a boy, he will -refuse me </span><em class="italics">nothing</em><span>.... And I mean, as soon as I'm up -and about again, to push him on. He's rich—those -Staffordshire mines and potteries. He's got </span><em class="italics">lots</em><span> of -ability, but he's too fond of leisure and isn't quite -ambitious enough. Complains of being tired.... He's -only 57 ... but he much prefers spending the -evening at home and reading history and memoirs. Still, -if Lord Wiltshire gets overworked at the Foreign -Office, Francis simply </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> succeed him. He knows -everything about foreign policy from A to Z, after -serving so many years in Vienna and Rome.... Well, -dear old boy, this is </span><em class="italics">really</em><span> good-bye. Make good out -there, and don't make a fool of yourself with some -grass widow going out, or some fair missionaryess.... -I suppose some of them </span><em class="italics">are</em><span> fit to look at? ... Play -up to the permanencies, and try to write some -dispatch that'll interest Lord Wiltshire. Then -Silchester may get a chance of putting his oar in and -have you shifted to a better post and a more healthy -one. After that </span><em class="italics">I'll</em><span> take a hand and marry you to -some nice girl with a little money.... I wonder -whether you'll feel lonely out there? But men never -are, so long as they can move about and get some -shooting ... which reminds me I want a </span><em class="italics">lot</em><span> more leopard -skins. Don't mount them: I like to choose my own -colours——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>(Enter Lady Silchester's maid.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Maid</em><span>: "My lady, before his lordship went out he -said I was to remind your ladyship about going to bed -early, so I ventured..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite right, Sophie.... I'll come up in one -minute." (Exit maid.) "By the bye, Roger, I ought to -ask after the other cousins. How's Maud?" (Roger -intimates that good old Maud's all right.) "Maud is -an excellent creature; I've always said so, though in a -sort of tight-lipped way she's never approved of me. -Because she's lost her own complexion in field sports -and parish work Maud suspects all other young women -of powdering and painting. And Geoffrey?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Geoffrey's ship is coming back in May and then -he ought to get some leave; and to save your time, I -might mention that Maurice will probably be called to -the bar in the autumn if he satisfies the Benchers; -and as to father, he's more gone over to Rome than -ever...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean Silchester?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. The vicar there is as frantic a 'Romanist' -as he is, and together they've had a rare old quarrel -with the farmer who grows corn where you got the -harvest-bug bites, and objects to excavations. I think -father forgets at times he's a nineteenth century -Christian.... He is awfully annoyed at the general -opinion that Silchester only dates from Christian times -in Britain and that the Temple to Venus is really a -Christian church. That's what comes from a Classical -education.... Now I shall get into a row with your -spouse for keeping you up. Besides. You don't -</span><em class="italics">really</em><span> care for the others...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span>: "To be frank, I don't. You were the only -one that interested me.... I ... well, then, Roger, -this is the last good-bye but one..." (extends her -hand on which he imprints a kiss). "That's quite -enough show of affection; Sophie might come back at -any moment and forget we are cousins. By the bye, -it might be wise if you got some one—I dare say -Francis would—to introduce you to the Feenixes -before you go. They might serve to mitigate the -hostility of Bennet Molyneux. Only don't fall in love with -Suzanne and desert </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>! She's got the Colonies, it's -true, but I'm going to have the Foreign Office before -you're back.... You mark my words! Ta-ta! -Coming, Sophie."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-voyage-out"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE VOYAGE OUT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Lucy said to herself she had never felt so miserable -in her life as she did during the first night on -board the </span><em class="italics">Jeddah</em><span>, the British India Co.'s steamer that -was taking her to East Africa. She occupied one of -the upper berths in the cabins off the Ladies' Saloon, -in which there were, as far as she could reckon, five -or six other occupants, including the stewardess, who -passed her time alternately snoring on a mattress in a -coign off the main entrance and waiting on such of the -ladies as were sea-sick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The </span><em class="italics">Jeddah</em><span> was rolling about in a choppy sea oft the -Downs. Lucy felt a horrible sensation of nausea creep -over her at times, and she clenched her teeth to repress -her inclination to vomit; for she was too shy to call -upon the much-occupied stewardess for assistance. -The back of her head throbbed with pain, her eyes were -burning hot with unshed tears, and her poor throat -ached with suppressed sobs. Far worse than the -physical discomfort of sea-sickness was the intensity of -her mental agony, the bitterness of her unavailing -regrets. She lay motionless in her narrow bunk, -gazing up at the ceiling which seemed almost to rest on -her face, and turned over in her memory ceaselessly -and with minute detail the events of the last three -days: her farewell to home and "darling" Aldermaston; -her parting with mother on the platform at -Reading ... and father ... the flying journey to -London, when she had almost forgotten her grief in the -excitement of seeing the metropolis; her two days -stay with Aunt Pardew, who with her husband kept -Pardew's Family Hotel in Great Ormond Street. -Then: the sight-seeing, the shopping, the visit to the -offices of the East African Mission. Here she had -received her saloon passage ticket in the </span><em class="italics">Jeddah</em><span>, and -twenty pounds in bright sovereigns for her out-of-pocket -expenses by the way. The Secretary had -spoken to her so kindly and earnestly that she had felt -ashamed of her indifference to the real work of -converting black people.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Secretary, however, had said one thing that -somehow perturbed her. He had mentioned that a -sweet-natured young woman from her neighbourhood—Sister -Jamblin—might also be going to their Mission -in East Africa—by the next boat. He thought -this would cheer Lucy up; instead of which it annoyed -her greatly.... Then came the early rising on what -seemed like her execution morning; the hasty breakfast, -interrupted with trickling tears and nose-blowing -on Aunt Pardew's—Aunt Ellen's—part, as well as -hers.... Aunt Ellen was so like darling mother—and -yet—it wasn't mother—...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the long rattle through dirty and dirtier streets -in a four-wheel cab with the rest of her luggage on top. -The arrival on board the steamer in the docks, where -everything was noisy, hurried, and confused with -preparations for departure.... Only this morning! -Only some twelve hours since she had taken leave with -despairing hugs of Aunt Ellen! Why, it seemed at -least a month ago. And only three days since she had -seen her mother!...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she mentally uttered the word "mother," she -lost control over herself and gave vent to a convulsive -choking sob..</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you oblige me," exclaimed a peevish voice -from the berth below, "by calling for the stewardess to -bring you a basin if you have any inclination to be sick? -It would be much better than trying to keep it back -and making those disagreeable clicking noises in your -throat. Excuse me for remarking it, but it is really -most distressing, and it fidgets me so I can hardly get -to sleep. You really suffer </span><em class="italics">much</em><span> more by endeavouring -to repress sea-sickness than by giving way </span><em class="italics">at once</em><span> -and having it over...." This the speaker added -because she had just given way herself—eruptively—and -was now resting from her labours. Lucy was so -startled and overawed by this unexpected interruption -to her thoughts that she made no answer; but lay quite -silent with flushing cheeks and beating heart. "It -must be the tall, thin lady," she thought to herself, -"I didn't remember she was so close."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then her thoughts turned to her fellow-passengers. -As far as she had ascertained, there were only nine -besides herself: five ladies, two Roman Catholic priests -or missionaries, and two men, one of whom was a -Captain Brentham going out to Unguja, where he was -to be Consul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, at least, she had heard the pink-cheeked lady say, -rather tossing her head when she said it. Her aunt -had timidly accosted two of the ladies before leaving -the steamer. She had asked them with a redundancy -of polite phrases to take Lucy under their protection -as far as they might be travelling together. One of -them was tall and thin, with a large bony face and cold -grey eyes—a little suggestive of Mrs. Baines (Lucy -thought); the other was pretty, though the expression -of her face, even when she smiled and showed all her -white teeth, was somehow rather insincere. But she -had the most lovely complexion Lucy had ever seen. -It was perfect: very pink in the middle of the cheeks -and the palest blush tint over the rest of the face and -neck. Her eyes were a dark blueish grey, with very -black rims; and her hair a rich golden brown. Lucy -was so much fascinated by her appearance and stared -at her with such unconscious persistence while her aunt -was talking, that at last the pink-cheeked lady -encountered her steady gaze with a look of haughty surprise -which caused Lucy to lower her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neither lady responded very cordially to Mrs. Pardew's -deferential request. The tall thin one had said -she was only going as far as Algiers, but asked if -Lucy was "a Church person" because the East African -Mission, she had heard, was run by Methodists. The -pretty lady, whose attire Lucy was again scanning with -attention, because it was in the latest fashion, had -looked at her with rather more interest and said: -"Going out to marry a missionary? Well, I can't say -I envy your experiences. It must be a wretched life -up-country, from all I hear. We shall travel together -as far as Unguja, but I can't offer to act as your -chaperon. It is very likely my husband may marry -you when you get there. I mean—" (seeing Lucy's -look of dismay)—"he is the 'marriage' officer there -at present, unless Captain Brentham is to deprive him -of </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> privilege, also"—(here she had given a bitter -laugh).... "If you feel lonely at any time on the -voyage you may come and chat with me ... occasionally; -though I can't tell you very much about Africa -as I have never been there before."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Slowly the night wore away. Lucy as she lay awake -stifled her regrets by vowing that when the steamer -called at Plymouth she would instantly leave it and -return home to her parents, and write to John telling -him she was not fitted to be a missionary's wife. He -would soon get over his disappointment as Ann Jamblin -was going out by the next steamer. </span><em class="italics">She</em><span> would marry -him like a shot....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the small hours of the morning the sea calmed -down and the ship rolled less. The passenger who had -suffered most from sea-sickness—a poor tired-looking -woman, mother of too many children—ceased to retch -and groan and sank into exhausted repose. Even -Lucy at last wove her troubled thoughts into dreams, -but just as she had dreamt that </span><em class="italics">this</em><span> was only a dream -and that in reality she was embracing her mother in a -transport of happiness, she awoke with tears wet on -her face and saw the cabin lit up with garish daylight -streaming through the now open skylight. A fresh, -exhilarating breeze was sweeping through the stuffy -saloon and chasing the nasty odour of sea-sickness. -She sat up in her bunk and gazed blankly round, trying -to realize the difference between dreamland and reality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would ye like a bath, Miss?" said the stewardess, -a coarse-looking but kind-hearted Irishwoman, never -quite free from a suspicion of spirit drinking: -"Would ye like a bath? Becase if so, ye'd betther -follow Mrs. Bazzard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I—don't know ... well, yes, I think I -will," replied Lucy, wondering who Mrs. Bazzard was -... didn't the name come into John's letters? Just -then the door leading out of the saloon towards the -bathroom opened and presumably Mrs. Bazzard -entered the Ladies' quarters, carrying towels and robed -in a white lace-trimmed </span><em class="italics">peignoir</em><span>, and with her hair -roughly piled on the top of her head and a lank fringe -parted to either side. "Why, it must be the lady with -the beautiful complexion," Lucy was saying to herself, -when she saw on nearer approach that the rosy cheeks -and blush tints had disappeared, and that the incomer, -though otherwise resembling her acquaintance of -yesterday, yet had a pale face, colourless and sad. "Poor -thing!" thought Lucy, "</span><em class="italics">how</em><span> she must have suffered -last night." And so great was her compassion that it -overcame her shyness, and she was about to condole -with the lady, when Mrs. Bazzard swept by her -abruptly without recognition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When her toilet was finished, she felt ill-at-ease -among the uncongenial inmates of the Ladies' Saloon, -and they directed towards her at times a look of hatred -as at one who was prying into the mysteries of their -clothing and bedizenment; so acting on the advice of -the stewardess "to get up a bit of appetite," she -staggered along the corridor and climbed the slippery -brass-bound stairway till she reached the upper-deck. -Here she sank on to the nearest seat and derived her -first pleasurable sensation on board the steamer from -inhaling the sea-scented breeze in the sunshine of -April. It was indeed a fine morning, one of the first -emphatic days of spring. The sky was a pale azure in -the zenith and along the northern horizon a thin film -of pinkish mist veiled the distant line of coast. A man -cleaning the brasswork told Lucy they were passing -the Isle of Wight; yonder was Bournemouth and -presently she would see Portland Bill looming up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A tall man, smoking a cheroot, was gazing in the -direction of Portland Bill. Presently he turned round -in Lucy's direction, looked at her rather hard then -began pacing the deck. "That," she reflected, "must be -Captain Brentham, who lectured at Reading on that -snow mountain.... </span><em class="italics">How</em><span> extraordinary! And he -must be the man Mrs. ... Mrs. ... Bazzard said -was to marry me to John when I arrived." She -raised her eyes and they met his. On his next turn in -walking the deck he paused irresolute, then raising his -cap said: "Are you the young lady from my part of -the country who is going out to Unguja to be -married? The Captain told me about you—unless I -have made some mistake and ought to be addressing -another lady."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think it must be me," said Lucy. "I ... I've -heard you lecture once at Reading. You're a friend -of Lord Silchester's, aren't you? My father is one of -his tenants. We live at Aldermaston." Her voice -trembled a little in pronouncing the name of the place -she now loved—too late—beyond any other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aldermaston—</span><em class="italics">of course</em><span> I know it, known it from -boyhood. I rode over there several times last year to -see my cousins, the Grayburns. One of them married -Lord Silchester last July, and that's why I stayed at -Englefield and gave the Reading lecture.... So you -came and heard it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did; because, as I was going out to marry a -missionary, I thought I ought to learn something about -East Africa. Your ... your lecture made me want -to go—awfully.... That wonderful mountain, -those clumps of palms, the river and the -hippopotami—or was it a lake?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you'll see lots of such things if you are -going up-country. Whom are you going to marry and -where is he stationed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. John Baines, the East African Mission, Ulunga...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh" (rather depreciatively), "Nonconformist, -Plymouth Brethren, or something of the kind. Now -I think of it I went to a big meeting of theirs last year -soon as I came back. Yes, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> remember. They're a -trading and industrial mission some distance inland, -in the British as well as the German sphere ... good -sort of folk, though their mouths are full of texts -... but they took me in once when I was half dead with -fever and nursed me back to health. And I liked the -way they set to work to make the best of the country -and the people.... But it will be awfully rough for -you; you don't look cut out for what they have to -go through. I should have thought the Anglican -Mission more your style, if, indeed, you went out as a -Missionary at all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He wished to add, "You're much too pretty," but -restrained himself. Just then the breakfast gong -sounded and they went down to the Dining Saloon. -Brentham rather masterfully strode to near the top -of the long table as though knowing he was the most -important person on board, and placed himself next -but one to the Captain's seat and Lucy on his right, -with a wink at the same time to the Chief Steward as -though to say "Fix this arrangement."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A moment after another lady with gold hair and a -dazzling complexion glided up and nimbly took the -seat on Brentham's left hand. The Captain was absent -and intimated that they needn't expect him till the -</span><em class="italics">Jeddah</em><span> was away from Plymouth and out of the -Channel. The other lady passengers were breakfasting -in the Ladies' Saloon. As soon as they were -seated and porridge was being offered, the lady on -Brentham's left introduced herself as the wife of a -colleague: "My husband is Spencer Bazzard, the -Vice-Consul at Unguja—I dare say you've heard -about him at the F.O.? He's a friend of that dear -Bennet Molyneux's, to whom we're both </span><em class="italics">devoted</em><span>.... -</span><em class="italics">Such</em><span> a grasp of African affairs, don't you think -so? My husband already knows Unguja through and -through. I'm sure he'll be glad to put you up to the -ropes. I've never been there before. Spencer thought -he ought to go out first and make a home for me, so -I've been a forlorn grass widow for over a year. -However, we shall soon be reunited. And I -understand we're to look on you as our chief till the -Consul-General returns. Spencer's been Sir James's -right-hand man. Thank you. Toast, please. No, I -won't take butter: it looks so odd. Like honey! Ugh!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After breakfast, Brentham escorted Lucy to the -upper-deck, got her a folding chair and secured it in a -sheltered corner, made her comfortable, lent her a -novel and a rug, and then resumed his pacing of the -deck or occasional study of a language book—he was -trying, he told Lucy, to master Swahili by doing -Steere's exercises in that harmonious tongue. -Mrs. Bazzard commandeered a steward and a deck-chair -and established herself close to Lucy with a piece of -showy embroidery, bought at Liberty's with half the -embroidery done. In a condescending manner she set -herself to pump Lucy about Brentham.... Did she -know him well? Didn't she think him good-looking? -Mrs. Bazzard thought of the two her husband was the -finer-looking man. He had longer moustaches and -they were a golden brown, like Mrs. Bazzard's hair; -he wasn't perhaps </span><em class="italics">quite</em><span> so tall; but </span><em class="italics">how</em><span> she was -looking forward to reunion with him. He was a paragon -of husbands, one of the Norfolk Bazzards. His elder -brother, a person of great legal acumen, had from -time to time tendered advice of signal value to -Mr. Bennet Molyneux.... It was thus they had got "in" -with the Foreign Office, and if Mrs. Bazzard were not -pledged to inviolable secrecy (because of Spencer's -career) there were things she knew and things she -could tell about Lord Wiltshire's intentions regarding -Africa—and Spencer.... However.... Did -Miss—she begged pardon—she had not caught Lucy's -name.... Josselin? any connexion of Sir Martin -Josselin? Oh, </span><em class="italics">Josling</em><span>.... Did Miss Josling come -from Captain Brentham's part of the country? Not a -relation? No, of course not.... Well, did she think -him clever? Some—in the Foreign Office—regarded -him as </span><em class="italics">superficial</em><span>. It was his good looks that -had got him on, and the friendship of a great lady -... but then </span><em class="italics">what</em><span> scandal-mongers </span><em class="italics">men</em><span> were! And -</span><em class="italics">how</em><span> jealous of one another! Mrs. Bazzard's husband -had got </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> commission through sheer, outstanding -ability, yet at the time people said the most </span><em class="italics">horrid</em><span> -things, both of him and her.... But Lord Wiltshire -had remained unshaken, knowing Spencer's value; and -undoubtedly held him in view for a very important -post in Africa as soon as he should have inducted -Captain Brentham into his duties.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lunch came in due course and was eaten in better -appetite by most of the passengers. It was served -with coarse plenty, on a lower-middle-class standard -of selection and cuisine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a sunny afternoon when the </span><em class="italics">Jeddah</em><span> anchored -in Plymouth harbour. The passengers were informed -they might spend four hours on shore, so Captain -Brentham proposed to Lucy and to Mrs. Bazzard that -he should take them under his escort and give them -their last chance of eating a decent dinner at an English -hotel. Mrs. Bazzard accepted with a gush of thanks -and a determination to commence a discreet flirtation -with the acting Consul-General, who was undoubtedly -a handsome man. Lucy assented simply to the proposition. -She was still a little dazed in the dawn of her -new life. But as she went off with the others in the -tug she put aside as an unreasonable absurdity any -idea of flight to the railway station and a return home. -It was a great stay to her home-sickness that there -should be on board some one she knew who almost -shared her home country, who had actually met people -she had met, and who would carry this home knowledge -out with him to the same region in Africa as that -she was going to. This removed the sting of her -regret and remedied her sense of utter friendlessness in -the wilds. Was he not actually to be </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> Consul?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These reflections caused her to sit down in the Hotel -Writing Room, whilst dinner was being got ready, and -Mrs. Bazzard was titivating, and dash off a hasty -letter to "dearest mother" informing her of the -brighter outlook. Her mother, overjoyed at this silver -lining to the cloud of bereavement, spread the news; -and so it reached Englefield, where Lord Silchester -was spending the Easter recess. He retailed it to -Sibyl ... who stamped her foot on the library -carpet and said: "</span><em class="italics">There</em><span>! </span><em class="italics">Didn't</em><span> I predict it? I </span><em class="italics">said</em><span> -he'd fall in love with a missionaryess!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And why not, my love?" replied Lord Silchester. -"What if he does?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A little tossing on the Bay of Biscay sent Mrs. Bazzard -to her cabin, and made more scanty the public -attendance at meals. But Lucy proved as good a -sailor as Brentham, and a great solace to him. For -he had his unacknowledged home-sickness too. You -could not spend nine months in the best of English -country life and the most interesting aspects of -London without a revulsion of feeling when you found -yourself cut off from all communication with those -scenes of beauty, splendour and absolute comfort, and -before high ambition had been once more aroused, and -the unexplored wilderness had again beckoned her -future ravisher. Lucy might be merely a farmer's -daughter, a little better educated than such usually -were at that period, still an unsophisticated country -chit (as Mrs. Bazzard had already summed her up to -the tall thin lady); yet she could talk with some slight -knowledge about the Silchesters—her mother had -been maid to Lord Silchester's mother, and her father -was Lord Silchester's tenant. Colonel Grayburn -was—or tried to be—a gentleman farmer within a mile -of Lucy's home; she had seen Sibyl occasionally -during the three years in which the Grayburns had lived -in Aldermaston parish. Lucy had never been so far -afield as Farleigh Wallop, but she knew Reading, -Mortimer, Silchester, Tadley, and even Basingstoke. -Merely to mention names like these consoled them both -as the steamer ploughed her twelve knots an hour -through the "roaring forties."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And when the </span><em class="italics">Jeddah</em><span> turned into the Mediterranean, -with a passing view of the Rock of Gibraltar, and -entered upon calm seas, blue and dazzling, their -</span><em class="italics">camaraderie</em><span> increased under Mrs. Bazzard's baleful -gaze and interchange of eyebrow-raisings with the thin -bony-nosed lady of Lucy's cabin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The </span><em class="italics">Jeddah</em><span> anchored off Algiers. The thin lady, -who here passes out of the story—-I think she was the -wife of a British Chaplain—had invited Mrs. Bazzard -to lunch with her on shore. Mrs. Bazzard had -hastened to accept the invitation, the more willingly -since Captain Brentham seemed to have forgotten her -existence; except at meal times, when he was obliged -to pass the mustard and the sugar. Brentham and -Lucy went off together into the picturesque white city, -rising high into the half-circle of the hills. They -lunched at the Café des Anglais and dined at an hotel -near the quay. They climbed the ladder-like streets -of the Arab quarter, bought useless trifles, and had -a drive out into the country which was gay with -genista in full bloom, with red-purple irises and roses, -and dignified by its hoary olives, sombre cypresses and -rigid palms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If Lucy had never been so miserable as she was nine -days previously, she had probably never felt so happy -as now. Certainly she had never looked so pretty. -Her violet eyes had a depth of colour new to them; -her brown hair a lustre and a tendency to curl in the -little strands and wisps that escaped control about her -forehead. Her cheeks, ordinarily pale, and her -milk-white complexion generally were suffused with a wild -rose flush and a warmth of tint caused by the -quickened circulation. The sea air and the sunshine chased -away the languor that had accompanied a sedentary -life. She had not been unobservant, and had taken -several hints in costume from Mrs. Bazzard's dress. -She had tightened this, expanded that, cut short skirts -that might have flopped, diminished a bustle, inserted -a frill, and adapted herself to the warmth of the -tropics without losing grace of outline or donning -headgear of repellent aspect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At Port Said he already called her "Lucy," and she -saw nothing in it that she mightn't accept, a permissible -brotherliness due to country associations and the -position of guardian, protector that he had assumed. -He showed her those sights of Port Said that need not -shock a modest girl. They sat side by side to enjoy -the thrill with which the unsophisticated then passed -through the Suez Canal. One woman passenger had -left the ship at Port Said; another at Suez. There -only remained the third one—the mother of many -babies—changing at Aden into a Bombay boat—besides -Mrs. Bazzard and herself in the Ladies' Saloon. -The two missionary priests told their breviaries, gave -at times a pleasant smile to her pretty face, and -concerned themselves no more with her affairs than if -she had been an uncriticizable member of the crew. -They were Belgians going out for a life's work to -Tanganyika, and to them the Protestant English and -their ways were unaccountable by ordinary human -standards. The captain of the ship had known -Captain Brentham in the Persian Gulf and had the utmost -confidence in his uprightness. What more reasonable -to suppose than that this girl had been placed under -his charge, inasmuch as it was he who would be the -official to register her marriage when she met her -missionary betrothed at Unguja?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nor had Brentham any but the most honourable -intentions. He felt tenderly and pitifully towards -Lucy, carrying her country prettiness and innocency -into savage Africa, embarking on a life of unexpected -frightfulness, unspeakable weariness, of monotony, -varied by shocks of terror, by sights of bloodshed and -obscenity that might thrill or titillate a strong man, but -must inevitably take the bloom off a woman's mind. -He even thought, once or twice, of dissuading her from -completing the contract, yet shrank from the upset -this would entail. Perhaps she really liked this -missionary chap? From the description she gave he didn't -seem so bad—he was tall and strong and seemingly -a man of his hands, with a turn for carpentry, and -was the Agent of a very practical Mission. If she -recoiled from this marriage, what was she going to -do? It was impossible to think of her remaining at -Unguja "on her own," and if he sent her back to -England at his own expense her parents might resent -very strongly his interference. There was his own -career to be thought of ... and Sibyl.... To a -woman like Lucy a marriage with most men of her -class, or below it, or immediately above it, would come -with rather a shock. She was so marriageable, so -marked out as a man's prey that she was bound to -go through it some day. Then, when she was -married, she would live more or less in his Consular -district, and he could keep an eye on her without being -unduly attentive. Perhaps Mrs. Ewart Stott was still -settled in the Zigula country of the German sphere -... </span><em class="italics">she</em><span> might help her. Very likely she would be -able to stick her three years of residence which the -Mission generally stipulated for and then return to -England.—What a lark if they both went home -together and compared experiences?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He might have revolutionized East African affairs -in that space of time...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was quite unconscious that in the two-to-three -weeks of their close association on board he had won -Lucy's love to such an extent that she was growing -slowly to look upon the end of the voyage and the -meeting with John as a point of blackness, the -entrance to a dark tunnel....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meantime, without assuming a forwardness of -demeanour which her upbringing discountenanced and -the watchfulness of Mrs. Bazzard forbade, she -accepted all he gave her voluntarily of his society. The -Red Sea was kind to them at the end of April: clear -cobalt skies, purple waves, a cool breeze against them, -no steamy mist in the atmosphere, and occasional views -of gaunt mountains or bird-whitened rocks and islands. -They sat in their chairs and talked: talked of -everything that came into Lucy's mind. She put to his -superior wisdom a hundred enigmas to answer, which -her mind was now able to formulate with an aroused -imagination.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You say you approve of missionaries, yet you seem -to dislike religion; you tried to get out of attending -the Sunday service in the Saloon, and you looked very -angry when the Captain asked you to read the -Lessons. Don't you believe in </span><em class="italics">anything</em><span> then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll find, Lucy"—Brentham would reply—"that -the word 'believe' is very much abused. You -may 'think' of such and such a thing as probable, as -possible, as desirable—often, indeed, the wish is father -to the thought. But to imagine it, is not to believe in -it; in the same way in which we are compelled by -irresistible conviction to believe in some fact or -consequence or event, whether we like it or not. We can -only 'believe' what can be tested by the evidence of -our senses, by some incontestable piling up of evidence -or record of historical facts.... Beyond that there -are probabilities and possibilities and suppositions. I -can believe the fire would burn my finger if I put it in -the flame; or that the earth goes round the sun and -that the moon is more or less 240,000 miles away from -the earth: because my senses or my reason convince -me of the truth of these facts. I can believe that -you're a very dear little girl seated next me in a -deck-chair on a steamer going out to East Africa: because -I can put such a belief to some conclusive test of the -senses. But I can't in the same way 'believe' in most -of what are called 'religious truths,' because they are -only suppositions, guesses, tentative explanations which -have lost their value ... indeed, have lost their -interest. I can't therefore waste my time on such——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But," Lucy stammered, "the Bible?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just so: the Bible. How many of you stop to -think what the Bible is? A collection of comparatively -ancient writings in Hebrew and in Greek, very -beautifully translated into Shakespeare's English, with -lots of gaps filled up by suggested words and -even—as we now think—lots of words and phrases wrongly -translated. The Hebrew books may have first been -written down at any time between six hundred and -one hundred years B.C.; and the New Testament -between fifty and a hundred-and-fifty years after -Christ—at any rate in the form in which we know them. -The original texts were uttered or written by men who -only knew a small part of the Mediterranean world, -who thought the earth was flat and the rest of the -Universe only an arched dome over the earth. Job -may have had grander conceptions, but the early -Christian writers were ignorance embodied. They were -ready to believe anything and everything to be a miracle, -and to invent the most preposterous fairy stories to -account for commonplace facts. At the same time they -often overlooked the beauty and simplicity and practical -value of Christ's teaching and also the fact that -a good many of his..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">What</em><span> an abstruse conversation," said Mrs. Bazzard, -breaking in out of the star-lit darkness on Roger's -disquisitions. She hung about them in the Red Sea, -especially after dark, and had a tiresome way of -suddenly making her presence known. Perhaps, however, -it was just as well, and, indeed, though Roger was -annoyed at the moment at having his eloquent thinking -aloud interrupted—because in such monologues -we are generally trying to convince ourselves as well -as our auditory—he also felt some relief at the -excuse for dropping the argument. </span><em class="italics">Why on earth</em><span> should -he undermine Lucy's stereotyped beliefs? What could -he give her—in the life she was going to lead, -too—in place of them?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the discussion was revived ever and again by -Lucy's persistent questions. She elicited from him in -general that although he approved of the material -results of missionary work and the ethics generally of -Christianity, he mocked at creeds, thought prayer -futile—especially the fossilized prayers of Judaism, -Protestant and Catholic Christianity, because they -were inapposite to our present age, bore little relation -to our complicated sorrows and needs, our new crimes, -difficulties, agonies, and temptations. He found the -Psalms, all but two or three, utterly wearisome in their -tedious woes and waitings, aches and pains probably -due to too carnivorous a dietary; untempting in their -ideals—"more bullocks for the altar ... and the fat -of rams...." Then our hymns—all but three or -four—were gross or childish in their imagery, abject -in their attitude to a Cæsar or a Sultan of a God, who -all the time watched inflexibly the Martyrdom of Man -and the ruthless processes of Nature without lifting -a finger to stay the cyclone or the epidemic ... and -so on.... His views were very much modelled on -those of Winwood Reade and on Burton's gibes at -"Provvy" (Lucy shuddered at the irreverence and -expected a meteor to cleave the ship in two), and he -had brought out with him from England Cotter -Morrison's "</span><em class="italics">Service of Man</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy sometimes felt so shocked at his negations that -she resolved to speak with him no more, but to apply -herself to the study of the Swahili Grammar he had -lent her. Then at the sight of him and at his -morning greeting and the kindly companionship at meals, -she could not remain aloof. At any rate, he had said -that you ought to act as a Christian even if you could -not swallow Christian theology. That was a great -admission. And he seemed to have numerous friends -among the missionaries at Unguja and in the interior, -which would hardly be the case if he were a bad man.... -Besides, his father was a clergyman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aden came as a welcome surcease to these discussions. -It was concrete and indisputable, and of -remarkable interest when interpreted by a Brentham.... -Steamer Point with its crowds of Indian and -British soldiers, Jews with ringlets and tall caps selling -ostrich plumes, Somalis like Greek gods in ebony offering -strange skins, skulls, and horns for sale, and ostrich -eggs; the drive—in a jingling carriage over sandy -roads, past red-black crags on one side, with an -intensely ultramarine sea on the other—to the Arab -town; the vast cisterns, the rich vegetation at the -cisterns; and then, after an interval of absolutely sterile -rock-gorges (vaguely suggestive of the approach to -Aladdin's cave in the </span><em class="italics">Arabian Nights</em><span>), a sea-side -ravine with an unexpected flora of aloes, euphorbias, -mesembryanths, and acacias.... Even Mrs. Bazzard, -with her Bayswater mind, was momentarily impressed -by Brentham's pleasantly imparted knowledge of all -these things. You never noticed how extraordinary -they were until he pointed it out. She was for the -time being conciliated by his having invited her to -accompany Lucy on the day's excursion and by the -generous way in which he stood treat and presented -her, as well as Lucy, with ostrich feather fans and -amusing gewgaws made from sea-shells.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After Aden the sky clouded; metaphorically, with -the coming end of this wonderful episode in Lucy's -life, materially with some tiresome manifestations of -the monsoon. I forget whether it blew behind and -left the </span><em class="italics">Jeddah</em><span> wallowing in the trough of great indigo -waves and rolling drearily; or blew against her progress, -causing her to progress like a rocking-horse. But -it imparted a storminess, a sense of exasperated -emotion to this pair of lovers—as they were, unadmittedly. -Fortunately, it also made the footing of Mrs. Bazzard's -high-heeled Bayswater shoes uncertain on the unstable -deck, so she relaxed her watchful spying on their -conversations. Lucy was alternately silent and wistful -and almost noisily vivacious, with hands that shook -as they passed a tea-cup. She had begun to realize -that in five or six more days the voyage would end -in her meeting John as an ardent bridegroom; that -she would never belong to Roger, she would pass out -of his life as swiftly as she had entered it, be at most -a pleasant and amusing memory of a half-ignorant -little person with whom he had spent good-naturedly -much of his time on a long sea voyage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger on his part, in smoking-room reflections -would feel he had gone much too far—compromised -her, perhaps played a rather foolish part himself, for -a man with high ambitions. There was that bitch of -a woman, that quintessence of a Bayswater boarding-house, -Mrs. Bazzard, wife of a—rotter, probably—whose -nose he had put out of joint. She was capable—and -and to conciliate her and win her over would be -degrading—of putting any construction on his flirtation. -How, at such times, before turning in, or even -while playing whist in the Captain's cabin and thinking -of anything but the game, he would </span><em class="italics">curse</em><span> these long -steamer voyages and these episodes of love! There -was that voyage out in 1880—he had narrowly missed -a breach of promise action then, and he would be -hanged if he'd set out to be more than sociable. And -the last time he had returned to England ... Mrs. Traquhair, -the wife of the chief electrician at Unguja.... -Only the fact that in the Mediterranean she had -developed one of those Rose Boils which were a legacy -of Unguja's mosquitoes, and which confined her to her -cabin till the Bay of Biscay (when they were all -sea-sick), had prevented the irrevocable. And all the time -he believed himself engaged to Sibyl! And -afterwards, when he had met Mrs. Traquhair and her -sister—</span><em class="italics">and</em><span> the sister! Oh my God,—in London and -had dined them at the "Cri." and taken them to see -Arthur Roberts from a box, and had scanned Mrs. T.'s -profile as he had never done before and watched -her laugh at the comedian, showing all the gold in her -teeth ... he asked himself </span><em class="italics">how on earth</em><span> he could -have kissed her so passionately as they were passing -through the Suez Canal. Yet she couldn't have been -a bad sort because she had never attempted to bother -him or follow it up.... But he couldn't class Lucy -with Mrs. Traquhair or the siren of the 1880 voyage. -She was utterly good and innocent of schemes to -entrap him. A sweet little thing...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they passed into the Indian Ocean between -Guardafui and Sokotra, there was a temporary lull in -the wind. It was a moonlight night; they were -sitting side by side under the open sky, for the -deck-awning had been removed on account of the monsoon. -A sudden fierce longing—there was no one on deck -that he could see—seized him to take her in his arms -and kiss her. And there came a telepathic message -that she was aching to be so taken and kissed. But -he resisted the impetus, with clenched hands on the -arms of his chair. Silence had set in between them. -A catch of Lucy's breath was faintly audible, -and—dare I say it? A snivel, a tiny snivel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Lucy</em><span>? </span><em class="italics">Crying</em><span>? My </span><em class="italics">dear</em><span> child! Why ... cheer -up. We shall soon be there.. You're not cold?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't understand.... I ... I ... don't -</span><em class="italics">want</em><span> to get there.... I don't want to marry him; -I </span><em class="italics">hate</em><span> the very idea...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but this will never do.... This is foolishness, -believe me. Lucy! Pull yourself together."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy now sobbed frantically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bazzard was heard saying from quite close by, -"Which is Gyuardifwee and which is -what-you-may-call-'em—Ras Hafoon? I mean, the cape where -some of the steamers run ashore in the mist, and then -you have to walk through Somaliland and get sunstroke?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Brentham exclaimed under his breath: "</span><em class="italics">Damn</em><span> that -woman!" and audibly, even a little insolently replied: -"I'm </span><em class="italics">blessed</em><span> if I know. You'd better ask the Captain. -He's on the bridge and dying for a gossip, and -he'll probably give you a cup of cocoa."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bazzard walked away—or pretended to do so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lucy dear. I want to speak to you while that cat -has gone out of ear-shot. Calm yourself and listen, -because I must speak in a low tone. If you feel you -would sooner die than go through with this marriage, -you shan't be forced into it. I will speak to -Archdeacon Gravening ... or the Bishop ... and they -will know of some nice women of the Anglican -Mission who would take you in for a few weeks ... till -there is a return steamer.... Then on the plea of -'health' you can go back to England. I could easily -advance the money for the steamer passage ... some -day your parents could repay me. But even if they -didn't, it doesn't matter. I do so want you to be -</span><em class="italics">happy</em><span>.... I blame myself awfully for the silly things -I've said to you ... about religion ... it may have -made you dislike mission work...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Lucy sobbed out "It hadn't ... that she was -a little fool and he mustn't take any notice ... she'd -never, </span><em class="italics">never</em><span> behave like this again ... after his -extraordinary kindness too, which she would always be -grateful for. He mustn't think any more about it or -ever refer to it again...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And before he could say anything more, or that cat, -Mrs. Bazzard, return, she slipped down to her cabin, -where fortunately she was alone and could cry her fill -without attracting attention. But as she lay on the -bunk, she set her teeth and resolved, come what may, -she would </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> put thousands of miles between her -and ... "Roger" ... she mentally uttered the -name. Better to live within a few hundred miles of -where he was and sometimes see and hear him. Why -... </span><em class="italics">Why</em><span> ... did he not ask her to marry him? -Yes, and ruin his career. What would they all say -at Unguja ... and </span><em class="italics">John</em><span>? ... Poor John! what a -shock it would be to him. There was the note he had -sent to greet her at Aden, to the address of the steamer -agent. She had opened it, but not read it through, -so infatuated was she with Brentham just then.... -The next morning Lucy breakfasted in the Ladies' -Saloon, pleading sea-sickness. Later on, she went to -the upper-deck, but armed herself with the Swahili -Grammar, a defence against a Brentham who purposely -stayed away, talking with the Captain, and none against -Mrs. Bazzard, who pestered her with inquiries as to -her "headache," expressing the quotation marks in -her tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Relations however became more normal all round -the day after that. In two more days they had -anchored off Lamu. Lucy saw two low islands, with -hazy forest country on the distant mainland. Lamu -island had low sandhills projecting into the sea, and -on one of them was an obelisk or pillar which Captain -Brentham said was an important historical monument -erected by the Portuguese nearly four hundred years -before. The two women were eager to land and see -East Africa for the first time. They went ashore with -him in the Vice-Consul's boat; for there was a -Vice-Consul here who had been expecting Brentham's visit -and was delighted to find two English ladies invading -his solitude. They saw, when they landed, masses of -vague masonry, the remains of Portuguese or Arab -forts, and a litter of human skulls and bones on the -beach at which they both shrieked in simulated horror. -These might have been the results of the last Somali -raid, or of slaves who had died on the shore unshipped, -owing to the vigilance of British cruisers, or even have -dated back to the expulsion of the Portuguese by the -Arabs two hundred years before. The town of Lamu -was a two miles' walk along the sandy shore from the -point, where they had landed, but the sight of the -extraordinary coloured, blue, red, and green crabs that -scuttled and yet threatened with uplifted claws, and -of the natives who accompanied them in a laughing -rabble, some clothed to the heels, others practically -naked, relieved the tedium of the journey. The smells -from the precincts and the heart of Lamu town were -so awful as to be interesting. The strongest—from -rancid shark's liver oil—was said to be quite -wholesome, but that from the sewage and the refuse on the -shore-mud caused them to hold handkerchiefs to noses. -However, the town was very picturesque with its Arab -and Persian houses of white stone, its Saracenic -doorways, in the angles of which Persian pottery was -embedded, and its heavy doors of carved wood. The -Consulate stood a little beyond the town, in a walled -garden of palms, fig trees, and trees of gorgeous scarlet -blossoms. Here they had a cup of tea, and the -Consular boat, which had been following them along the -shore, took them back to the </span><em class="italics">Jeddah</em><span>, thankful in the -blazing sunshine for their pith helmets and white -umbrellas.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This excursion somehow, with its introduction to the -realities and romance of tropical Africa, braced up -Lucy for the next day but one, when in the very early -morning the </span><em class="italics">Jeddah</em><span> anchored in the roadstead of -Unguja. She was dressed by eight o'clock and sat -awaiting in the stuffy Ladies' Saloon the arrival of John, -or whoever was coming to meet her. Sat with -trembling, perspiring hands in open-work cotton gloves, -wishing the suspense over. There were sounds of -loud voices on deck.... Mrs. Bazzard, exploding -in connubial raptures over her husband; Bazzard, in -between her embraces, striving to assume a partly -respectful, partly comrade-like attitude with Captain -Brentham, to combine a recognition that he was -greeting his official superior for the moment with the -assured standing of one who had had longer experience -of official cares. She heard him saying: "Your boat -is waiting for you, Sir. I will arrange to send a lighter -for your baggage as soon as it is up out of the -hold...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then blundering steps down some stairway and along -the passage, and John stood before her, sun-helmet in -hand, eyes blazing with hungry love, saying, -stammering rather—"My </span><em class="italics">Lucy</em><span>! C—Come at last! </span><em class="italics">Oh</em><span>, -how I've looked forward.... How..." But he -crushed her to him in a rough embrace, unmindful -of her delicate cotton dress and of the fact that his red -face was covered with perspiration.... But there -was something so appealing and yet so masterful in -his love, and also something so reminiscent of the park -seat at Englefield and that Sunday walk, that Lucy in -yielding to his embrace said within herself, "How -</span><em class="italics">could</em><span> I have thought of throwing him over?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Together they went on shore. Brentham had not -even stayed to say good-bye. Somebody saw after her -luggage. She had so lost interest in it that she did not -care if anything was missing.... Then John said: -"I hope you've brought out the Harmonium that -your uncle gave us," and she replied a little listlessly: -"Oh yes! it was </span><em class="italics">such</em><span> a bother getting it across -London, but I think it's on board."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am taking you," said John, inconsequently, in -the boat, devouring her with his eyes all the time, "to -stay with Mrs. Ewart Stott until we're married."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="ungujaand-up-country"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">UNGUJA—AND UP-COUNTRY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Every two or three years in those days you met -either Mr. </span><em class="italics">or</em><span> Mrs. Ewart Stott at Unguja, usually -at the ramshackle residence and place of business of -Mr. Callaway, the Commercial Agent of the East -African Mission. And when Mrs. Ewart Stott was there -she took command, so that you instinctively greeted -her as hostess. Mr. Callaway was quite willing it -should be so, because she accomplished wonders in -setting his untidy house in order; she gingered up his -servants and routed the cockroaches, chased away some -of the smells, and generally cured a feverish attack by -quinine, chicken broth, and motherly care.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Ewart Stotts as missionaries were independent -because Mrs. Ewart Stott had begun as Church of -England and Mr. E. S. as a Presbyterian, yet they -could not quite agree with the discipline or the ideals -of the different churches or sects and preferred -evangelizing East Africa on a plan of their own. They -had private means—at any rate at first; until they -had run through them in founding mission stations, -whereafter they were supported by anonymous -benefactors. And as their tenets and </span><em class="italics">modus operandi</em><span> were -nearest to those of the Methodists' East African -Mission, they worked alongside them and made use of -their Agent and depôt at Unguja.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Both were of Ulster parentage, with some admixture -of a more genial stock; yet both were born in Australia. -She as a Miss Ewart and he originally a Mr. Stott. -At the same moment, so to speak, they had "found -Christ," and it really seemed a logical sequel that -Providence should bring them together at some -Australian religious merry-making. They instantly fell in -love, quickly married and fused their surnames. She -was twenty, he twenty-two. She was distinctly -personable and he quite good-looking. They had -probably been born, both of them, perfectly good, -unconsciously sinless, so that the getting of religion did not -make them better or more likeable but only afflicted -them with a mania for quoting hymns, psalms, and -Bible texts </span><em class="italics">à tout propos</em><span> and seeing the Lord's hand, -His Divine interference in every incident, every -accident, any change for better or worse which affected -themselves. They were constantly in receipt of -Divine intimations generally after communing in prayer. -And these they obeyed as promptly as possible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For instance, only six months after they were -married, and when their eldest child was already on its -way, they were inspired to evangelize East Africa. -Forthwith they sold up their home in South Australia, -took ship with an immense outfit to Aden, and thence -transferred themselves to Unguja and the Zangian -mainland.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They wished to preach nothing but "Christ crucified" -and the new life which black men and white -men should lead after "accepting of" this sacrifice, -this atonement for the presumed sinfulness of poor, -martyred humanity. But despite this broad, if illogical, -basis of their propaganda, they were afflicted with -a bitter dislike of Science, which they concentrated on -the theory of Evolution, or on any Biblical criticism -which would weaken their faith in a very manlike God -who apparently turned his back on his own universe to -concern himself solely and very fussily, very ineffectively -with one of its grains of dust, a tiny planet -circling round a fifth-rate star among a billion other -stars. For the rest, they had infinite courage, infinite -love and charity, immense powers of work, but no -sense of humour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Consul after Consul warned them as to the risks -they ran in plunging—Father, Mother and Babies—into -unexplored Africa of the worst reputation. They -smilingly ignored warnings and protests, ... wild -beasts, wild peoples, wild climates, wild scenery—all -seemed against them. Mr. Stott was once tossed by -a rhinoceros into a river; but the water broke his -fall and he emerged before the crocodiles woke up, and -staggered back to camp, only slightly wounded. -Shortly afterwards, hundreds of Masai warriors -charged their camp, and their coast porters fled into -the bush. The naked, fat-and-ochre-anointed warriors -with their six-foot spears found Mrs. Stott sipping -tea at her camp-table and sewing clothes for her baby, -while Mr. Stott with bound-up wounds was lying on -a camp-bed. Mrs. Stott, convinced that the Almighty -was somewhere in the offing, smiled on the warriors -and shared her plum cake among the foremost. They -returned the smile, enlarging it into a roar of -laughter. After executing a war dance they withdrew, and -later on sent her a large gourd of fresh milk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After some floundering, owing to the uncertain -indications of the Divine will and purpose, they had -settled on the old explorer and missionary route to the -Victoria Nyanza, due west of Unguja in what was -called the Ugogo country, partly because the Wa-gogo -were thought to be quite recalcitrant to Christianity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy Josling, who had had much of this summary -poured into her half-attentive hearing by her betrothed, -as they walked through the narrow lanes between the -tall stone houses of Unguja—she much more -interested by the handsomely dressed Arabs, the veiled -women, the wandering bulls and their owners, salaaming -Indians—entered at last the Arab house rented by -Mr. Callaway for his Agency.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Passing through a dark entry and corridor they -emerged into a courtyard with an immense fig-tree in -the middle. Round this square space there was a -broad and shady verandah. Mrs. Stott rose from her -sewing-machine and greeted Lucy with that simple -cordiality which made her so many friends among the -converted and the unconvertible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must feel quite dazed being on shore after -so many weeks at sea. You'd like to go to your room, -I know, and perhaps be quiet there till our midday -meal. We've done the best we could for you—at -short notice—for your young man and I have only -been at Unguja since Saturday. We travelled down -together, he to get married, of course, and I to see to -a large consignment of goods that has arrived for us -here. I also expected a recruit for our Mission, but -he does not seem to have caught this steamer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Stott then led the way to Lucy's room, and -John departed to the Customs House to clear her -baggage and get it stored: a matter which would occupy -him for the rest of the daylight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Although the upstairs bedroom that Lucy was to -occupy smelt, like all the rest of the premises, of copra, -aniseed, cockroaches, dried fish, shark's liver oil, -curry-powder, rats' and bats' manure, in one badly mingled -essence, with this and that ingredient sometimes -prevailing, it seemed clean and airy, and there was some -grace and refinement in the clean bed linen, white -mosquito curtain, and bunch of Frangipani flowers in -a Persian pottery vase. Instinctively she turned to -Mrs. Stott with tears in her eyes. "This is </span><em class="italics">your</em><span> -doing, I am sure! Somehow you remind me of mother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Mrs. Stott, "that's just what I should -like to do; though I suppose I'm not older than an -elder sister; only this African life ages one very -quickly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The heat during the rest of the day seemed to Lucy -in this low-ceilinged room, in a low-lying part of the -town, almost unbearable. She spent much of the -afternoon lying on her bed in </span><em class="italics">déshabille</em><span>, a constant -prey to home-sickness. She tried at one time playing -with the little Stott child on the landing, but it was -much more interested in the large red-black -cockroaches which it caught with surprising swiftness of -aim and without any of Lucy's shuddering horror. -It would hold these insects with their little flat heads, -twirling antennae, scratchy legs and fat yellow bellies -quite firmly (yet not unkindly) in its plump fingers for -grave consideration; then let them go to run over the -planks. Mrs. Stott was away to the Customs House; -a pale, perspiring, half-clothed Indian clerk was -passing in and out of the house on Mr. Callaway's -business, too fever-stricken and listless to care one grain -of damaged rice about this young woman fresh from -England. The fleas on the ground-floor verandah and -business premises were too numerous for any novice -to endure. Lucy's only resource was to return to her -room, rid herself of these persecutors by undressing -and await with patience the after-sunset cooler air. A -visit from Mrs. Stott at half-past six notified that the -evening meal would be served at seven and that John -Baines had seen to all Lucy's luggage. Such as she -wanted for the next few days was ready to be brought -up for her use; the rest would be put in the go-down -to await the departure in the "dau"[#] that would -convey them to the mainland. Lucy therefore had to -rise and dress, come down and force herself to show -some affection for her betrothed and some interest in -her mass of luggage—all the while preoccupied by the -mosquitoes which bit her ankles, the fleas that attacked -her with renewed voracity, the cockroaches which -scurried about her feet, and the smells which made her -sick. She enjoyed the chicken broth flavoured with -hot red chillies and the coco-nut milk served round -for drinks at the evening meal; and picked a bit of -fish, fresh and flaky. Also she appreciated the dessert -of pineapples, mangoes and oranges. Instead of coffee -afterwards they had tea, with goat's milk. This was -thirst-quenching and helped to diminish the racking -headache which had been steadily reaching a climax -during the evening.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] Decked Arab sailing-ship.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>At nine o'clock all vestiges of a meal were cleared -away and John, Mr. Callaway and even Mrs. Stott -assumed an air of portentousness as about twenty-four -able-bodied Negroes filed in and the two or three Negro -servants of the Stotts set out a number of hymn-books -and a large Bible. John then read prayers and a -portion of scripture in Swahili while the Christianized -negroes dutifully knelt, sat, and stood to sing hymns in -unison with their white employers. The hymns being -likewise in the Swahili language, the whole -ceremony—occupying about half an hour—was without meaning -to Lucy, who was driven nearly frantic by the fleas -and mosquitoes. At last, bed-time came; John -unwillingly took his leave, promising to call round for -Lucy at eight in the morning to take her on a round -of visits. Lucy, in very low spirits, retired to her -bedroom, but Mrs. Stott followed. Without being asked -for any explanation she was allowed to cry for five -minutes on Mrs. Stott's neck. Then the latter -undressed her, rubbed the bites with some cooling lotion, -administered five grains of quinine and put her to bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What with the squeaking and chattering of the fruit-bats -eating the figs outside, the rats running over the -floor of her room, and a tornado of thunder, lightning -and drumming rain, the night was not a pleasant one. -But when Mrs. Stott woke her with a cup of tea and -she ventured outside her mosquito-curtain, things took -a brighter aspect. She had from her window a glimpse -of the sparkling blue bay in the level rays of the -just-risen sun, a fringe of coco-nut palms, their fronds still -wet with the rain, a tangle of brown shipping—Arab -"daus" and Indian "baghalas"—hauled up for -repairs; and the atmosphere was cleared and fresh after -the tornado. She was almost cheerful by the time -she had dressed and come downstairs. Mrs. Stott -had advised her to put on high boots to save her -ankles from mosquito bites, and to dust herself freely -with Insecticide powder to discourage the fleas. As -a special indulgence to a tired visitor she was let off -morning prayers and only heard the nasal singing -whilst completing her toilet in her room after a -pleasant little breakfast in bed, over a book. John duly -came with a carriage borrowed from the Sultan's -stables, and Lucy—almost gay once more—set out with -him to be introduced to Archdeacon Gravening—who -in the absence of the Bishop (on tour) was to perform -the religious marriage ceremony at the Cathedral.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gravening was an austere-looking man but of kindly -disposition. He made her feel at home, and as he -knew the Reading district in old Oxford days of -walking tours and reading-parties he could talk about that -home-country which, as it receded in time from her -contemplation, seemed a Paradise she had recklessly -quitted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ladies of the Anglican Mission—a celibate -Mission when at work in Africa, its members being -supposed to leave its ranks when they married—received -Lucy with some detachment of manner. They -were good creatures, indeed, but they came from a -social stratum one or even two degrees higher than hers, -and inwardly they were less tolerant of Nonconformists, -than were their men fellow-workers. Lucy, they -had ascertained, was a "Church person," but she was -about to marry into a Methodist Mission. However, -her rather plaintive prettiness and the home-sick -melancholy in her eyes enlisted their womanly sympathy. -Two of them offered themselves in a bride's maid -capacity, and the Sisterhood in general proposed that the -honeymoon should be spent at their little country -retreat of Mbweni. But John explained as to this, -that he could not prolong his absence from the -up-country station more than was just necessary for the -prescribed residence at Unguja; and that their -honeymoon must be spent on the return journey. He -dilated, for Lucy's encouragement, on the picnic charms -of the "Safari."[#]</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] The accepted meaning of "Safari" is a journey with tents, -and porters to carry the baggage.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>During the ten days of her pre-nuptial stay at -Unguja Lucy had no talk with Brentham. Presumably -he was too busy over political and Consular -matters. Once indeed when walking with John through -the winding streets of the African-Oriental city she -had seen him out riding with Bazzard, the Vice-Consul. -John had accomplished all the preliminary formalities, -and on her marriage morning—early on account of -the heat—Lucy went in one of the Sultan's carriages, -attended by Mrs. Stott and the two ladies of the -Anglican Mission, to the British Agency. John met -them at the entrance; they walked slowly up the stone -steps to the office for the transaction of Consular -business. Bazzard, with Mrs. Bazzard—the latter -assuming the airs of a Vice-reine—met them there and -ranged the wedding party in order. Brentham then -entered, bowed to them both, but avoided meeting -Lucy's eyes. He put to them in a level business-like -voice the necessary interrogatory and declared them -duly married. The party then passed into one of the -Agency's drawing-rooms. Champagne—and lemonade -for the teetotalers—was served, together with -mixed biscuits and sweetmeats. The Acting -Consul-General proposed the health of the Bride, and for the -first time looked Lucy full in the face. He next -withdrew on to a verandah and talked for some time with -the bridegroom about his mission station and the -journey thither and spoke earnestly on the subject of Lucy -and her welfare, instancing his interest in her -home-country as well as his position as "their" Consul -to explain his anxiety as to her future. Then -returning to the general company he handed Lucy a small -case which he said contained a trifling wedding present -and wished her all possible happiness, promising "some -day or other" to visit her in her new home. He -grasped her hand with a brief pressure and—pleading -urgent business as an excuse for not following -the party to the Cathedral—withdrew to his office. -Mrs. Bazzard introduced her husband and bestowed a -condescending patronage on Lucy and on the Mission -ladies, who, never having met her before, found -themselves almost audibly wondering who on earth she was, -and where—with that slightly cockney accent—she -had come from.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The religious ceremony at the Cathedral was one of -considerable ecclesiastical pomp, secretly enjoyed by -John Baines; who, however, thought on what mother -would say when he told her he had nearly been married -by a Bishop and quite so by an Archdeacon, and still -more how she would have appreciated the black -acolytes in their scarlet cassocks and white dalmatics, -the incense-smell in the building, and the vestments -of the clergy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After they left the Cathedral they repaired to the -Arab house of stone and rich Persian and Kurdish -carpets in which Archdeacon Gravening lived. Here -an unpretentious luncheon was given as a wedding -breakfast. Gravening hardly ever spoke about -religion, which was why Mrs. Stott despaired of his being -saved, though she admitted he was compact of quiet -kindness. His one enthusiasm was language study. -He was deeply versed in the Bantu languages and -translated for the Anglican Mission most of the works they -required to use in their schools and churches. He had -corresponded with John Baines, and the latter had -written down for him samples of vocabularies of the -different languages heard in his district.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Some insight into the conflict going on in the dazed -mind of Lucy—who throughout these ceremonies -looked as though she were a wound-up automaton—inspired -Mrs. Stott to suggest to John that as they -were due to start in the Arab dau early the next -morning in order to reach the mainland port of Lingani -before nightfall, Lucy should spend the rest of her -marriage-day and night with Mrs. Stott, and their -honeymoon should not commence till they reached the -Mission house at Lingani. This they would have to -themselves for three or four days whilst their caravan -for up-country was being got ready. Accordingly poor -John, when the wedding luncheon was over and the -guests had dispersed, surrendered Lucy to Mrs. Stott -and spent the rest of the day rather disconsolately -making his preparations for departure. Lucy got through -much of that hot afternoon in her nightdress—for -coolness—inside the mosquito curtains of her bed, -weeping at times hysterically; tortured with -homesickness one minute and at another seized with a mad -longing to call on Brentham at the Agency and see him -once more. Sometimes she felt an actual dislike for -John; at others a great pity for him, yet a shuddering -at the idea of his embraces, of any physical contact -with him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Stott prayed for her, apart in her own bedroom -but the Divine direction of her thoughts seemed -to take the line that the least said was the soonest -mended, and that the young couple had better be left to -their own society at Lingani to come to an understanding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next morning, however, it was a composed -though rather silent Lucy who was punctually ready -to go away with John when he came to fetch her to -embark in the dau. Mrs. Stott had risen early to -make coffee for them and give them a send-off of -embraces, and provisions for a nice cold lunch on board. -"My dear," she said to Lucy, "you'll have a </span><em class="italics">delightful</em><span> -water picnic. There's going to be just wind enough -to blow you across. I wish I were coming with you, -but I shan't get away for another fortnight. However, -we shall meet in the interior, I dare say, before -very long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John had made for his bride a little nest among -cushions and clean brightly-coloured grass mats in the -deck cabin of the dau (a mere palm-thatch shelter), -and for an hour or so a smile came back to Lucy's sad -face as she appreciated the pleasant freshness of the -morning breeze, the picturesqueness of the boat and -the vivid blue or emerald green of the water according -as it was deep or shallow. She had quite an appetite -for the early lunch which Mrs. Stott had thoughtfully -provided. But presently an anxious look came into -her face and a restlessness of manner. "John! Can -I be coming out in a rash? I feel an intolerable -itching round my neck and wrists—Oh! Horror! -What is this?" And she pointed to some flat, dark -brown disks which were scurrying out of sight up her -arms and into the folds of her linen bodice....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Bugs!</em><span>" said John, shocked and apologetic, "they -are sometimes found in these Arab vessels.... I am -so sorry.... Yet there was no other way of crossing -to Lingani...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy went white with disgust. From the palm mid-ribs -which arched over the cabin roof of thatch there -came dropping hundreds of bugs on to the unhappy -young woman, ignoring or avoiding him who would -have willingly offered himself as sacrifice and -substitute. Lucy in her dismay, knowing she could not -undress before the boatmen and porters and yet not -knowing how she could endure hours of this maddening -irritation from half-venomous bites, broke out into -weeping. "What </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> to be done?" questioned the -poor distraught bridegroom. The gentle breeze had -died away ... an intense heat prevailed; the dau -scarcely moved across a glassy sea ... the Nakhodha -or bwahih captain of the dau was standing up over the -rudder and signalling with his sinewy hand, crying out -in a melodious cadence: "Njôô! Kusi-Kusi, Njôô, -Kusi-Kusi!"[#] afraid his vessel might be becalmed and -prevented from reaching port in daylight. The -boat-men and porters were looking at one another with -round eyes as they heard the Bibi[#] crying convulsively -in the deck cabin. John in his desperation had a bright -idea. He knew that the ordinary, vaunted insecticides -had no terror for, no deterrent effect on, either bugs or -their unrelated mimics, the poisonous ticks of Central -Africa; but that both alike fled before the smell of -petroleum. There were tins of that mineral oil on -board provision for his lamps up-country. Opening -one of these cautiously, for petroleum was very -precious, he filled an enamelled iron cup and then stoppered -the tin. From his medicine chest he obtained -cotton-wool. Then with wads of this, and with his -handkerchief, he dabbed the swollen wrists and the weals on -Lucy's neck and advised her to thrust the saturated -wads and linen inside her clothing.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] "Come south wind, come!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] Lady.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The strong odour of the oil in a few minutes caused -the blood-sucking insects to withdraw and return to -their lairs in the thatch and boards. The south wind -came at last in puffs, which lessened the heat, but -there set in a swell which caused the dau to roll. This -movement disturbed the bilge water below the decks, -and from this was disengaged a sulphuretted-hydrogen -stench almost bad enough to drive the bugs from Lucy's -mind. But the wind grew steadier and at last blew -the rotten dau to the landing-place at the mouth of a -river where they were to disembark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lingani was a smaller edition of Unguja Town: -flat-roofed Arab houses of white-washed coral rock, -thatched wattle-and-daub huts, groves of coco-nut -palms, a few Casuarina trees and Frangipani shrubs, -pariah dogs, wandering zebu cattle, and dwarf goats. -The Mission Rest-house was a substantial stone -building in the Arab style of East Africa. It was -maintained jointly by four missionary societies for use by -their members in transit. There was a Swahili couple -in charge of it, husband and wife. The bed linen, -table-cloths, napkins and cutlery were kept in -cupboards fastened with cunning padlocks, which only -opened when you set the letters of the lock to -correspond with the word "open." This to thwart -inquisitive natives, with a smattering of education, was -written up for reminder in Greek letters. With this ruse -John was fully acquainted, so that he lost no time in -opening the cupboards and releasing the wherewithal -for making up two beds and laying the table for an -evening meal. The black housekeepers, proffering -greetings and assurance of welcome while they worked, -busied themselves in heating water for baths, in -making the beds, laying the table, and killing chickens for -soup and roast. John's activities were multifold. He -had to see the dau unloaded and its precious cargo -safely stowed away in the store below the Rest-house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy at first sat limply in the divan or main -reception-room, sore all over, eyes blistered by the glare of -sun on water, and with a headache which for crippling -agony exceeded anything she had known. But she -conquered her sullenness and made feeble attempts to -help. John, however, seeing that bath and bath water -were ready and that sheets, pillows and blankets had -been placed on her Arab bedstead (a wooden frame -with a lattice-work across it of ox-hide strips), advised -her to undress, soothe her bites with spongings and -ointment, and rest between the sheets. Her back ached -unbearably; her head seemed half-severed at the neck, -and she was seized with violent shiverings. The -mosquitoes had given her a sharp attack of malarial fever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once in bed, she felt less acutely ill, but of all the -nice meal that John and the Swahili man-cook had -prepared she could only swallow a cup of tea. Her -temperature was found to be up to 102°, so the first and -the six succeeding nights of the honeymoon were -spent in dire illness and dreary convalescence. But -at the end of that time she seemed well enough to start -on their up-country journey. John had obtained two -Masai donkeys and had bought at Unguja a second-hand -side-saddle. Lucy cheered up at the prospect of -donkey-riding and above all at leaving this terribly hot -coast town for the cooler nights of the interior. -Though still deeply depressed and disheartened, she -was sufficiently reasonable and well-disposed to be -deeply touched by her husband's care of her, his -forethought for her comfort and distress at the -inconveniences of semi-savage Africa. Some measure of -health came back to her, and even cheerfulness, during -the first easy days of camp life, before they left the -semi-civilized coast-belt, with its shady mango-trees -for the midday halt, its unfailing water supply for the -thirsty porters and the white man's meals; its -comparative safety at night from wild beasts and wild -natives.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But between the mountain ranges of the interior—whither -they were bound—and this settled country of -cultivation and villages more or less governed by the -Sultan of Unguja, there lay a desert tract almost -devoid of water and ravaged in recent times by a clan -of the raiding Masai known to the Bantu natives as -"Wahumba." They had recently carried out a -ruthless foray across the plains. The native wells had -fallen in or their location had been forgotten since the -destruction of the villages. Lucy then knew for the -first time what it was to suffer from thirst, and to have -no water for washing in the morning or evening; and -when a little water was obtained from nearly dried up -rock-pools or the bed of a run-dry stream, to be hardly -able to endure the sight of it, much less taste it when -it looked like strong tea, or coffee-and-milk, when it -smelt of stable manure or was alive with grubs or -wriggling worms. It could only be drunk in the form -of tea after it had been strained, boiled, and skimmed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John had prepared for some such contingency in -crossing this desert strip by bringing several dozen -coco-nuts and a case of his father's cider—at the -mention of which Lucy's mouth watered. But his porters -in their own mad thirst had disposed of the coco-nuts -and their milk, and the carrier who bore the case of -champagne cider on his head had, of course, slipped -on a slimy boulder, crossing a dry stream down had -come his precious load, and at least half the bottles had -cracked and poured forth their sparkling contents over -the sand or into the porter's protruded mouth. Still, -the other six bottles were retrieved by an indignant -John who, in his rage, doffed the gentle long-suffering -missionary—which, strange to say, he had become in -these few months—witness his unselfish and patient -care of his rather peevish wife—and kicked the -careless, sticky, half-drunk porter with all the vehemence -of an unregenerate Englishman. The porter took his -chastisement philosophically. He had tasted nectar. -John and Lucy drank the remainder of the cider -during the second half of that day, without care for the -morrow's drought, for fear lest they be robbed of it -by some other accident....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last they reached a running stream at the base of -the foothills which marked the beginning of a slow -ascent of three thousand feet. The verdure, and the -shade this created, seemed by contrast a Paradise. -They pitched their camp under fine umbrageous trees, -near the site of a ruined village which a few months -previously had been a populous centre. Around the -mounds of clay and sticks and burnt thatch were -luxuriant banana plantations with occasional bunches -of ripening bananas—though the monkeys of the -adjacent thicket had not left many fit for eating. -When Lucy had quenched her thirst exuberantly from -the rivulet, drinking from cups of folded banana fronds -made for her by the repentant porter of the broken -cider bottles, her sense of relief and contentment at -their surroundings was a little marred by the consciousness -of an unpleasant odour which came to them fitfully -in puffs of the afternoon breeze. She started out -to explore on her own account—she wore high boots -and had a tucked-in, constricted skirt. Presently she -came to an extensive clearing where banana trunks, -brown and rotten, had been felled and lay prone in all -directions, half covered with the clay tunnels and -galleries of white ants. Amongst these crumbling -cylinders lay twenty or thirty skeletons, some of them still -retaining strips of leathery flesh and patches of Negro -wool on the whitened skulls. The ground at the rustle -of her approach began to swarm with a myriad of -black, biting ants, disturbed in their daily meal off -this immense supply of carrion. Lucy paid little heed -to them for the moment as she stood horror-struck -at the sight of hissing snakes, gliding into the rank -weeds, probably more concerned over the swarming -of the ants than at the approach of a solitary human -being. She also noted a group of large, grey-brown -vultures with lean whitish necks, which hopped -heavily before her until they obtained enough impetus to -rise above the ground and settle on the branches of a -baobab-tree. Lucy, horrified by this unsavoury -Golgotha and the slithering snakes, was uttering several -squeaks of dismay, when as the terrible "siafu" ants -began to nip the skin of her limbs and body, her cries -changed to shrieks of terror. Half-blindly she -floundered over disgusting obstacles back towards the camp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John, looking very tired and very dirty, came -rushing to meet her and upbraid her for imprudence in -wandering off alone where there was danger at every -turn; but, realizing she was being mercilessly bitten -by the "siafu," he hurried her into the tent, let down -the flaps of the entrance and assisted her to undress. -She had to be reduced to absolute nudity before the -ants could be removed. They had fixed their mandibles -so firmly in the skin that in pulling them off the -head and jaws remained behind, and for weeks -afterwards this unhappy young woman went about with a -sore and inflamed body.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But this seeming outrage on her modesty greatly -eased their intercourse. They had been for several -days husband and wife, but there was still a certain -stiffness and reserve in their relations. This -disappeared after Lucy was obliged in broad daylight to -submit her tortured body to his ministrations. In this -new camaraderie she was soon laughing over her -misadventure; whilst John acted clumsily as lady's maid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two days afterwards they were further drawn together -by a thrill of terror. The region having been -temporarily depopulated by Masai raids, wild beasts—lions, -leopards, hyenas—had been emboldened in their -attacks. John's camping places were encircled each -evening by a hedge of thorns, and the porters kept -up—or were supposed to keep up—blazing fires. But -one night in the small hours the tired sentries fell -asleep, the fire in front of the tent died down, a lion -sprang the hedge, crunched the sentry's skull, and -tore at their tent doorway with his claws—attracted -by the smell of the donkeys tethered behind. His -horrible snarls and growls and the outcry of the awakened -men roused John and Lucy. In their movements they -knocked over camp washstand and table and could not -find the matches or the lantern. John was uncertain -where to fire even when he had found his loaded rifle. -He dared not shoot into the midst of the growls, lest -the bullet should kill the plunging donkeys or strike -one of his men. They in their desperation—and, to do -them justice, in their desire to save the white man and -his wife—were tackling the lion with firebrands, yet -feared to shoot his huge body—tangled up with tent -ropes and tent flaps—lest they should shoot master or -mistress. Lucy swooned across the bed with terror -when she felt the lion's body pressed against the thin -canvas of the tent wall.... The tent, even, seemed -in danger of collapsing under the lion's pressure, as he -backed on to it to face the men. At last, fear of the -fire dislodged him. He stood or rather crouched -against a pile of boxes for a few minutes; then -realizing that the way to the exit was clear, he bounded -towards it over the dead body of the slain porter. But -before he quitted the premises he seized adroitly one of -Lucy's two milch goats and, breaking its neck, trailed -it over his shoulders and plunged down a ravine. The -men followed him with a fusillade of shots from their -Snider rifles, but probably in the darkness all went -wide. The lion remained in the ravine alternately -crunching and growling—but </span><em class="italics">such</em><span> growling!—the -English verb is feeble to express the blood-curdling -sound.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Day broke at last. John roused himself, detached -gently the hysterically-clutching hands of his wife, who -alternately implored him not to expose himself to any -more danger and not to leave her to die by herself in -the wilderness, but to turn back with her that very day -and seek for some safer Mission post at the Coast or in -Unguja itself. He put his clothes into better order, -knelt and prayed for a few minutes: then tidied the -tent space a little and overhauled his rifle. Next, -rummaging for ammunition and putting it handy in -his side pockets, he issued from the tent, carefully -fastening the door flaps after him. He questioned the -men in broken Swahili as to the lion's whereabouts. -"Chini, Bwana, hapa karibu, ndani ya bondee ... Below, -master, near here, within the ravine," they -answered; and the lion, hearing the raised voices, gave -a confirmatory growl which reached to the ears of -the shaking Lucy in the tent. She arose, her teeth -chattering with terror, and looked out through a slit in -the tent door. She saw and heard John call for the -headman and guessed that he was marshalling eight -of his most courageous porters, the "gunmen" of the -expedition, to sally out with him and attack the lion. -This beast, having nearly finished the goat, had no -intention of leaving the neighbourhood of the camp. -He intended to have next, one by one, the two donkeys; -and after he had eaten them, the humans. The ravine -seemed a convenient place in which to repose till he -was hungry again....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The porters read the lion's mind correctly: "He -will wait there, master, till we are breaking camp and -then attack the donkeys, and perhaps the one with Bibi -on his back. We shall never get him in such a -favourable position again. See! He is down there below, -looking up at us. He can scarcely rush up this side -of the ravine...." John Baines grasped the -situation; he quickly placed himself in the middle of the -eight braves, who knelt on one knee in between the tree -stems on the edge of the steep descent. All at the -word "Fire!" sent a converging volley (which deafened -Lucy in the tent) at the great head with its -wide-open yellow eyes ... and as the smoke cleared away -the head was a shapeless mass of blood and brains and -the lion was utterly dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A shout of triumph arose from the elated men, and -the whole force of the caravan—thirty-two men -without the poor wretch who had been killed in the -night—went tumbling down the ravine to disembowel the lion -and cut off its skin for "Bwana" who had shown -himself such a man of spirit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John betook himself to Lucy's tent, exultant. He -had killed a lion! He almost forgot to kneel down -and send up a thanksgiving for the Divine protection -accorded to them. Lucy dried her eyes and at last -made an effort to dress and swallow a little breakfast. -As her nerves were shattered by the "close call" they -had had in the night, and as a burial service must be -held over the dead porter and the loads be readjusted, -John announced there would be no march that day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the next morning Lucy could hardly sit her -donkey. And by ill-luck the caravan had only just -started and was passing through more ruined banana -plantations—another charnel house of the last Masai -raid—when it was abruptly halted by a shout of -"Nyoka!" Owing to the obstacles of the felled -banana stems it was difficult to diverge from the -narrow track; and, barring the men's way, in the middle -of that track an unusually large "spitting" cobra had -erected itself on the stiffened tail-third of its length and -was balancing its flattened, expanded body to and fro, -threatening the advance of the caravan. It should -have been a comparatively easy matter to fell it with -a well-flung banana stem, but meanwhile the file of -porters halted, and John, impatient to find out the -cause of the halt, urged on his donkey to flounder -through the vegetation along the track and reach the -head of the caravan. Lucy's donkey was so devoted -to her sister ass that she could never bear to be -separated from her; so, unchecked by Lucy's limp clutch on -the reins, she hurried forward. But when she saw the -swaying cobra she bolted off to the left into the banana -tangle, and the abrupt action flung her rider off -amongst skulls and bones and rotting vegetation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The headman, with a tent-pole, hurled adroitly at -the aggressive snake, broke its back, the exasperated -porters rushed forward and whacked it to pulp and -then threw the remains far from the path, took up their -loads and marched forward, hastening to leave so -ill-omened a place. The cook and the personal attendant -hurried to raise the unconscious, slightly stunned Lucy -from her horrible surroundings and caught the donkey. -The caravan, however, had to be halted afresh. Lucy -was far too ill to ride. Yet a further stay could hardly -be made in these surroundings. After a conference -with the headman it was decided to rig up a "machila" -or travelling hammock out of blankets, and a long -pole, and to march on a mile or so to a better site -for a camping place, and there await the lady's recovery....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poor John! It required, indeed, patience and resignation -to the fitful ways of Providence to keep up heart -against this succession of disasters. The loads were -readjusted so as to release four men to carry the -invalid; and the caravan moved on silently, in low spirits -and without the accustomed song, till they reached a -spot which satisfied their requirements of defensibility -against lions, access to good water; shade; and no -likelihood of biting ants or snakes. Such a place was -found in an hour or two, and the overburdened porters -gladly heard the decision to remain till the Bibi was -well enough to travel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy when put to bed was alternately hysterical and -delirious. She was suffering more from nervous -shocks than from bodily injuries, though several of -the ant-bites were inclined to fester, and her left cheek, -arm, and side were badly bruised from the fall amongst -the bones. John, as he sat and watched her on the -camp bed, thought what cursed luck had followed him -since his marriage. He had twice made this journey -between Hangodi and the coast, and although neither -traversing of the hundred-and-fifty miles had been -precisely an agreeable picnic, there had not occurred any -really tragical incidents that he remembered. Going -first to Hangodi, nine months ago, the Masai raids -had not taken place; and on his coastward journey a -month previously his guide must have taken him along -a different path. Thus they had avoided these ruined -villages with their rotting remains of massacres. He -had often heard lions roar and seen snakes gliding -from the path, and had crossed with a hop and a -jump swarms of the dreaded "siafu." It was -common knowledge that some Arab daus were infested -with bugs. But none of these terrors had been obvious -on his previous journeys, nor had there been such -a scarcity of drinking water. It really seemed as -though Divine Providence for some mysterious ends -was to crowd all the dangers and disagreeables of an -African </span><em class="italics">safari</em><span> into Lucy's wedding tour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A talk with the headman helped to clear things up -and settle plans. They were, at this new camp—by -contrast with the others a very pleasant and salubrious -place—about sixty miles from Hangodi and about -fifty from the Evangelical Missionary Society's station -or Mpwapwa. Here there lived a famous medical -missionary. If a message were sent to him by fast -runners he might reach them in four or five days with -advice and medicines.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two of the swiftest porters of the </span><em class="italics">safari</em><span> were chosen -to run through the tolerably safe Usagara country with -a letter, with calico bound round them for food -purchase and a bag of rice tied to each man's girdle. -John's revolver was lent to the more experienced of -the two as some protection against wild beasts or -lawless men. They were promised a present if they did -the journey in two days.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>There was nothing for it then but to keep Lucy -well-nourished with broth made from tinned foods and -beef-extract. The porter who had let drop the case of cider -and had conceived an attachment for his mistress out -of pity and remorse, set a snare one day and caught a -guinea-fowl. This made an excellent nourishing soup. -Another porter found a clutch of guinea-fowl's eggs. -There was one remaining milch goat which yielded -about a pint of milk daily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With such resources as these John strove to prepare -an invalid diet which could be administered by spoonfuls -to a patient with no appetite and poor vitality. -He had a small medicine-case of drugs, but knew not -what to prescribe for nervous exhaustion. He scarcely -left the vicinity of the tent during the day-time, and -slept fully-dressed at night in a deck-chair close to -Lucy's camp bedstead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the end of the fifth day the medical missionary -arrived on a riding donkey with John's messengers, -and six porters of his own carrying a comfortable -travelling hammock. He diagnosed the case and took -a cheerful view of it, but advised their setting out next -day with him and attempting by forced marches to -reach his station—fifty miles away—in two days. -At Mpwapwa Lucy would be nursed back to health -by his wife, and when she was fit for more African -travel she should be sent on to Hangodi.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Six weeks afterwards she reached her husband's -station in Ulunga, completely restored to health. The -cool dry season had set in; the country she traversed -was elevated, much wooded, picturesque hill-and-dale -threaded with numerous small streams, and her travelling -escort, the medical missionary, was an interesting -man with a well-stored mind who could explain much -that she wanted to know.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On her arrival at Hangodi she found Ann Jamblin -installed as a potent force in several departments of -the station economy, the real mistress of the -community. She had come up from the coast in the </span><em class="italics">safari</em><span> -of Mrs. Ewart Stott. The marches had been well -regulated the camping places well chosen, the wild -beasts had not annoyed them, and they had avoided -the waterless tract. Ann was prompt to infer that -Lucy had made far too much fuss over the petty -discomforts of African travel, and Lucy began to take -refuge in a proud silence—which one's persecutors -call "sulks"—under Ann's gibes and obliquely -slighting remarks.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="letters-to-and-fro"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">LETTERS TO AND FRO</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics">From Lady Silchester to Captain Brentham.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Englefield House,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">July</em><span> 12, 1887.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAR ROGER,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The great event took place three weeks ago -and I am just allowed to leave my bed and lie on a -couch for a few hours every day—in my boudoir. -Here I can wile away the time by writing letters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is a boy, so Francis ought to be in the seventh -heaven of happiness as he now has a direct heir for -the succession. Ought to be, but somehow isn't. -Since I began to get better and take notice he does not -seem as exuberant as I expected. He isn't </span><em class="italics">well</em><span>. I -have a sort of idea he had a fainting fit in the House -of Lords just when my crisis was coming on and that -they kept it back from me. But I saw an allusion to -it in an old </span><em class="italics">Times</em><span> which had somehow found its way -into my sitting-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The infant is to be named James Francis Addington -for ancestral reasons. I do not feel energetic enough -to contest. I should have preferred </span><em class="italics">one</em><span> Christian -name </span><em class="italics">only</em><span>—a multitude of names is so démodé and -must be so confusing to the recording angels who don't -recognize surnames. I wanted something a little -baffling and out of the common such as Clitheroe or -Passavant. Clitheroe is not the name of any relation, but -I liked its sound—like the wind in the reeds, don't -you think?—and it would have been a new departure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Little Clithy looks rather wizen as he lies asleep in -his bassinette, but at his age most infants seem -incredibly old and cynical, as though they were just -finishing some life cycle and were peevish at beginning -another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course, Clitheroe's coming has </span><em class="italics">quite</em><span> ruled me out -of the Jubilee festivities. Suzanne Feenix has been -doing all the running, and quietly pushing her -husband whilst I have been unable to secure any -advancement for mine, who now seems quite lacking in -ambition. Suzanne, by the bye, </span><em class="italics">l'on dit très toquée</em><span> of -another good-looking African explorer, a rival of yours -from West Africa. A pity you did not make her -acquaintance—as I advised you to do—before you -left. She has any amount of influence with Lord W.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How is the missionaryess? I am glad she was -safely married to her missionary and withdrew -herself into the interior. I feared otherwise there was -going to be </span><em class="italics">another</em><span> entanglement: for I don't believe -</span><em class="italics">in the least</em><span> you were a Galahad and faithful only to -my memory in the days when we played at being -engaged. I don't see why I should be specially -interested in this young woman because she came from -Aldermaston and her father is one of our tenants.... -However, when I can once more ride I'll go over -and look her people up and report on them. But I -only hope you won't turn her head by taking all this -interest in her affairs. So like you! And to think -you once reproached me for inconstancy!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All the same, dear Roger, I do miss you—</span><em class="italics">dreadfully</em><span>. -Francis </span><em class="italics">will</em><span> keep up the grand manner and -won't tell me any cabinet secrets. My brothers and -sisters don't interest me, mother is too anxious about -father's affairs to leave him for long, and when she -is here I am nervous about discussing them for fear -they may want to borrow money from Francis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I have sent Maud an invitation because she reminds -me faintly of you....</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>SIBYL.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics">From Mrs. Josling to Mrs. John Baines.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Church Farm</span></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Aldermaston</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>July 30 (1887)</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>My darling girl</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Father and me were so releaved at getting your -letter ten days ago saying you had reached Unguja safe -and sound and had just been married to John Baines -by the Consul and at the Cathedral. It sounded quite -grand being married twice, and I only hope youll be -happy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I went over to see Mrs. Baines at Tilehurst taking -your letter with me but was receaved [underscored: none too -graciously]. It seems John had not written to his parents -to say he was married [strikeout: or even that he] but I suppose -he hadent time before being so busy over his -preperations for starting up country.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well my darling we both wishes you every happiness. -Your letter dident tell us much but I suppose -you were too busy having to start away on a ship the -next morning. We both send our humble thanks to -Captain Brentham for looking after you on the voyage. -Lady Silchester has had her baby—in the middle of -last June. Father and me drove over last week to -pay our respecs and make inquiries. His lordship -himself came out to see and was nice as he always is. -He's very like his poor mother and she was always -the lady and spoke as nice to her servants as to her -titled friends. Well Lord Silchester rang for the -nurse and baby so as we might see it. It looked to me -a poor little antique thing but of course I dident say -so. It's been christened James after his Lordship's -father but they say as her Ladyship wanted some other -name more romantic like. She came in from the -garden as we were leaving and gave herself such airs -I thought but Father says she's a rare piece for good -looks and we all ought to be grateful to her for giving -an heir to the estate to keep out the Australian cousin -who might have [strikeout: revvle] revolutionary ideas about -farming. She ast after you a bit sarcastic like I thought. -She says I hear your daughter flirted dredfully with -my cousin Captain Brentham on the way out. I -couldent help saying I dident believe it. My daughter -I said would never be a flirt it wasnt in your -nature. I felt so put out but his Lordship tried to make -it come right by saying Her Ladyship musnt judge -others by herself and that he quite believed me. Weve -had a good hay crop and the wheat and root crops -promises well. So Father's in rare good humour and -says after harvest he's going to take us all to the -sea-side Bournemouth or Southsea. Clara and Mary's -both well. They never ail as you kno. Young -Marden of Overeaston is paying Clara some attention. -Leastways he drops in to Sunday supper pretty often.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We all send our love and I hope with all my hart -you will be happy and continu well. I shall go on -being anxious about you till you come back. Praps -the Primitives will give John a call after he's done his -bit of missionary work and youll be able to live in -England close to us. I shant be happy till this comes to -pass.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Your loving mother</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>Clara Josling</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics">From Mrs. Baines to her son John.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Tilehurst,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">October</em><span> 14, 1887.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>MY DEAR SON,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I suppose a mother must expect to come off </span><em class="italics">second</em><span> -best when her son marries and I ought to think myself -lucky to hear from you once a year. But I confess I -was put out in the summer only to get news of you -through Lucy's mother. However, your letter written -August 3, after Lucy had joined you at Hangodi, came -to hand a few days ago. You must have had a terrible -time getting her up-country. She seems so feckless -and born to trouble. As though wild beasts and -accidents sought her out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I've just had a line from Ann Jamblin. </span><em class="italics">She's</em><span> got -her head screwed on the right way. She left a month -after Lucy and yet reached your station nearly as soon -as you did. She didn't need to hang about that -place—I can't spell its name—where you got married, -and, she travelled up-country, she says, in record time -with a missionary lady, a Mrs. Stott. She didn't fall -off her donkey or have a lion in her tent or get ant -all over her or turn sick every few weeks. Nor yet -have herself looked after by free-thinking captains on -the voyage out. But there. You've made your bed -as the saying is and you must lie on it. It's far from -my wish to come between husband and wife, and I'm -glad Ann's gone to your station. She'll have a steadying -influence on Lucy and be a great comfort to you -and your companions. I suppose by now she's married -to your friend Anderson. If so he'll have got a -good wife and her bit of money will be a help.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Father's as well as he's ever likely to be. He suffers -from brash, a sure sign of overeating.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sister Simpson is going to marry Brother Wilkins -the sidesman of our Reading Chapel. At present she's -suffering from boils, but hopes to be well enough for -the marriage next month. The Bellinghams at Cross -Corner, Reading, Bakers and Fancy Confectioners, are -in a bad way—going bankrupt they say. There's -been a sad scandal about Pastor Brown at Bewdly -wanting to marry his deceased wife's sister. It's -forbidden I know in Holy Writ, though at time of -writing I can't remember where, but see Leviticus -xviii. and xx. Emily Langhorn has gone to London to learn -dressmaking. Time she did and good behaviour likewise. -I never listen to scandal, otherwise I should -say it was all on account of her goings on with young -Gilchrist. She took it very hard when he suddenly -married Priscilla Lamb of Lamb's Boot Emporium, -Abbey Road, Reading. I'm very glad I wouldn't have -her here to the Dorcas meetings. She'd got her eye -on you, I'm pretty sure. Sam Gildersleeves and Polly -Scatcherd's got married, just in time it seems, to save -her good name. People was beginning to cut her. -Clara Josling, your wife's sister, is engaged to young -Harden, a good-for-nothing cricketer. Plays with his -brother and friends on Sunday afternoons. But I -suppose you won't think the worse of him for that, -now you've come under Lucy's influence. But oh what -wickedness is coming on the world. Well, it can't -last much longer. The vials of the Almighty's wrath -are about to be opened and the Last Day is at hand—I -feel and hope. I've advised your father to spend -no more money on repairs at the Manufactory—It -will last our time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile may God have you in his holy keeping. -Father sends love. He's taken up with this new drink -Zoedone and expects to make a lot of money out of it. -Money, money, money and eat, eat, eat is all he thinks -about. Still, that's better than breaking the Sabbath -and running after strange women, which is what most -of his neighbours is doing. And as to the women, it's -dress, dress, dress and play acting. Mrs. Garrett's -bustle was right down shocking last Sunday. I -couldn't keep my eyes off it during Chapel. They've -been making so much money lately out of sanding -the sugar and selling dried tea-leaves for Best Family -Blend Afternoon tea that they don't know how to -spend it, so Mrs. G. has begun to dress fashionable—at -</span><em class="italics">her</em><span> age too—and Mr. G. goes to St. Michael's -instead of coming to Salem chapel where his parents -worshipped before him. And as to this play acting, -its one of the signs of the times. They've opened a -theatre at Reading and have afternoon performances.—Several -of our Tilehurst folk have been seen there and -Pastor Mullins spoke about it in last Sunday's sermon.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Your loving mother,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>SARAH BAINES.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics">From Mrs. Spencer Bazzard to Mr. Bennet Molyneux, -<br />Foreign Office.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>H.B.M. Vice-Consulate,</span></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Unguja,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">Novr.</em><span> 1, 1887.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>DEAR MR. MOLYNEUX,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When am I to address you as "Sir Bennet"?—as -it ought to be, if I dare express my thoughts. We -look in each Honours' list expecting it. Spencer is -quite bitter on the subject, but I tell him "comparisons -are odious." At any rate I won't repeat his indiscretions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We are all wondering here when Sir James Eccles is -returning. I have not yet had the privilege of seeing -him and can only take Spencer's opinions for guide. -In Spencer's mind he is well-nigh irreplaceable. Spencer -feels it would be little less than disastrous to place -the control of Ungujan affairs in the hands of any -younger or less experienced man. With Sir James -Eccles the Germans will try no nonsense. They might -even renounce their protectorate in despair if he were -to return and had the influence of his Government -behind him. Whereas with a weaker man, or even with -one of no authority, merely an "acting" Consul-General, -they may go to </span><em class="italics">any</em><span> lengths. I am foolish enough -about my Husband to think—if there </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> be a -stop-gap—that he would be better than—well, than the -present Acting Consul-General. Spencer thoroughly -distrusts the Germans and refuses even to learn their -ugly language; whereas C-p-n B. is much too friendly -with them and has gone to the length of saying we -must not play the dog in the manger over Africa. It -seems there have been great German African explorers -as well as English, and Spencer's colleague thinks it -rather hard they should not have colonies as well as -we. Not knowing your own views I hesitate to -express mine. And I should not be so presumptuous as -to ask for any guidance or any answer even to this -letter. I dare say if you think Spencer is to have more -responsibility and initiative in the future you will -privately instruct him as to the policy of your department.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That will not help </span><em class="italics">me</em><span> much, for Spencer, where -official correspondence is concerned, is as close as—I -can't think of a parallel! I mean, he won't tell me -</span><em class="italics">anything</em><span>. Not that I am inquisitive. But I </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> want -to be a help to him, and I also believe in the education -of women. I should like to know </span><em class="italics">all</em><span> about Africa! -But I also know your views—though they shock me. -If I may judge from our conversations on that -never-to-be-forgotten Saturday till Monday—last -Easter—when Mrs. Molyneux was good enough to ask me -down to Spilsbury—— You think Woman should -confine herself to superintending the household and her -husband's comfort, to dressing well, and should not -concern herself with politics. You may be right. -And yet there are moments in which I rebel against -these prescriptions. It may have been my bringing-up. -My dear father, an officer in the Navy, died when I -was very young, and darling mother brought me up -with perhaps too much modern liberality. She -entertained considerably—in a modest way, of -course—at our house in North Kensington, and I was -accustomed therefore from girlhood to meet with many -different types of men and women—some of them -widely travelled—and to hear a great variety of -opinions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here, however, when I have attended to the affairs -of our household—a small one, since we no longer -live in the big Consulate—and have paid an occasional -visit to some other Consul's wife or the nicer -among the missionary women, I give myself up to the -study of Swahili, the local language. Spencer, who -is strong in fifty things where I am weak or totally -wanting, is not absolutely of the first quality as a -linguist, while I seem to have rather a gift that way. -I am much complimented on my French, and although -I dislike German I force myself to speak it. I can -now make myself understood in what Spence calls the -"dam" lingo of the natives. And if I told you I was -also grappling with Hindustani I am afraid you would -class me unfavourably with your pet aversion, a "blue -stocking"!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I will defy your bad opinion. I am </span><em class="italics">determined</em><span> -to fit myself for Spencer's promotion which must -surely come in time, especially as we can both stand -the climate fairly well. I have only been down once -with fever since I came out, and Spence sets malaria -at defiance with cocktails and an occasional stiff whisky -peg. Between us before long we ought to know all -that is worth knowing at Unguja. And Spence is </span><em class="italics">so</em><span> -popular with the natives. They instinctively look up -to a strong man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As to the missionaries they simply swarm on the -island and the mainland. Some of the Church of -England ones are quite nice and are really gentlemen and -ladies. And there are one or two adorable old priests -in the French Mission who pay me pretty compliments -on my French and declare I must have learnt it in -Paris. But there are also some awful cranks. There -is a Mrs. Stott who puts in an appearance once in a -way from some very wild part of the interior and asks -me with great cheerfulness if I am saved, or if I love -the Lord. It is wonderful how she keeps her -appearance, as she goes about without a sunshade and has -been tossed several times by rhinoceroses. Her -voracity for hymn singing is </span><em class="italics">extraordinary</em><span>. Perhaps it -acts on her constitution like these new Swedish gymnastics.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Quite another type of recruit for the Nonconformist -Missions came out with me from England last -spring. A National School mistress, I believe, -originally. She was the daughter of a farmer in Lord -Silchester's country. Some thought her pretty, but -it was that prettiness which soon evaporates under a -tropical sun. She seemed to me thoroughly insipid -and had not even that faith in mission work which -at least excuses the strange proceedings of her -companions. As soon as the ship started she put herself -under the wing of our Acting Consul-General who was -not slow to reciprocate. They carried on a flirtation -during the voyage which—but I am afraid I am not -very modern—was </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> the best preparation for -marrying a Methodist missionary—a dreadful -</span><em class="italics">gauche</em><span>-looking creature who came to claim her at Unguja. -However a woman should always stand by women, -so I did the best I could for her when they were -married by the Acting Consul-General.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That important personage—Is he a friend of yours? -If so, I will promise to see nothing but good in -him—prefers to live all alone in Sir James Eccles' house, -where Spencer had transferred himself after Sir -James's departure. We had proposed joining -households with him, and I was </span><em class="italics">quite</em><span> ready to have made a -home for him during his brief tenure of the post. -But apparently he preferred my room to my company, -so of course I did not press my offer. He entertains -very little on the plea that he is too much occupied -with work and study.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well! If I write much more you will dismiss me -as a bore. So I must sign myself,</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Yours gratefully,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>EMILIA BAZZARD.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>P.S. I expect no answer. But if you do not order -me to the contrary I shall post you from time to time a -budget of gossip from Unguja in the hope that it may -prove amusing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There is no news at all of Stanley. Emin, they say, -is still holding out. Each steamer brings more and -more Germans, to Spencer's great disgust. E.B.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics">From Captain Brentham to his sister Maud.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>H.B.M. Agency,</span></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Unguja,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">Decr.</em><span> 1, 1887.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>DEAR OLD MAUD,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You </span><em class="italics">are</em><span> a good sort, and I am awfully grateful to -you. Your letters never fail me each month as the -mail comes in, and you send me just the papers and -books I like to see in my isolation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I have been here over six months and am getting -rather weary of the office work. I don't suppose there -is much chance of my being promoted to the principal -post if Sir James Eccles does not come back. It would -be too rapid a promotion and excite frightful -jealousy—though I really think I should do as well as any -one else, and better than some. My Arabic and -Persian are both useful to me here, and I have worked up -Hindustani and mastered Swahili and get along very -well with the Arabs and the big colony of British -Indians. But I don't feel confident about F.O. approval. -All these affairs pass through Bennet Molyneux's -hands, and he does not like me for some reason, -probably because he's an obstinate ass and hates being set -right. I hoped Lord Silchester would have pushed me -more, but according to Sibyl's letters he seems really -ailing and to care about little besides his own health. -Your account of your visit to Englefield last summer -amused me very much. Sibyl has a good deal of the -cat about her, but I quite understand from the very -oppositeness of your dispositions you might get on -very well—your straightforwardness and her guile. -At any rate though I am a little sore still about her -throwing me over for Silchester, I am ready to -forgive her if she is nice to my one dear sister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As to </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>, I never properly appreciated you till I -came to live out here. If I could only get a settled -position I think I should ask you to come and keep -house for me. I daresay I shall never marry—the -women I have felt drawn to have always married -somebody else. It would do father good if he had to -engage a housekeeper and a curate. He throws away -far too much of the money he ought to leave some day -to you on excavations at Silchester.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, as I say, I am getting rather tired of the office -work I have to plough through day after day. There -is endless litigation between the Hindu merchants and -the Arabs. There are Slave cases every week and -frequent squabbles with the French Consulate over slaving -ships flying the French flag. And although I have a -"legal" vice-consul to help me, his decisions are -sometimes awfully rotten and have to be revised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I wasn't cut out for office work. If I were really -Agent and Consul-General it would be different; I -might take more interest in the storms of this Unguja -tea-cup. And I should of course be properly in -control of the mainland Vice-Consuls who at present seem -to me to waste all their time big game shooting or ill -in bed with fever due to too much whisky. But as I -am only a warming pan for Eccles or some new man -it is a very boring life. I have not been away from -this little island once since I came out in May. I am -therefore impatient to go over to my proper consular -district on the mainland, and thoroughly explore it. -It reaches to the three great lakes of the interior!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This Vice-Consul at Unguja is a queer sort of -person. He was called to the bar a few years ago—unless -he is personating another man! But his knowledge -of Indian law is nil and he seems to have no -intuition or perception of where the truth lies between -scores of perjured witnesses. He is unable to learn -languages, so he is quite at the mercy of the court -interpreters. He drinks too much whisky, has an -unpleasant mottled complexion, a shaking hand, and an -uneasy manner with me, varying from deferential to -what the French call "rogue." His wife who -travelled out with me is </span><em class="italics">by no means</em><span> stupid. She is -somewhat the golden-haired adventuress—her hair, at -least, is an impossible gold except near the roots—her -complexion is obviously, though very skilfully, -made up, and generally she has a sort of false good -looks just as she exhibits a false good nature. Every -now and then one catches a glimpse of the tigress -fighting for her own hand (which means in her case, her -husband). She has probably been a governess at one -time, and rumour makes her the daughter of a navy -paymaster's widow who kept a boarding house in -Bayswater, which at one time sheltered Spencer Bazzard -when he was down on his luck. He married her—I -should guess—to pay his bill for board and -lodging. She then took up his affairs with vigour and -actually got him appointed Legal Vice-Consul here. -She writes letters to Bennet Molyneux—sealed with -lavender wax and a dove and serpent seal—I see -them in the Mail bag—flatters him up I expect, and -I dare say deals me every now and then a stab in the -back. Her first idea when we came out was to -fascinate me and take up the position of lady of the house -at the Agency. I dare say she would have run it far -better than I do and have made a very competent -hostess. But the inevitable corollary of having her -detestable, blotchy-faced husband as my commensal -and letting her boss the show generally was too much -for me, and I had to ask them to live in the Vice-Consulate -hard by and let me dwell in solitude and peace in -the many-roomed Agency. My maitre-d'hotel is Sir -James's admirable Swahili butler, my cook is a -Goanese—and first rate—and I have one or two excellent -Arab servants. Of course I make a point of having -the Bazzards frequently to dine or lunch, and I ask her -to receive the ladies of the European colony at any -party or entertainment. Nevertheless I have made an -enemy. Yet she would be intolerable as a friend....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The poor little missionary lady you ask about has, -I guess, been having a pretty rough time of it up -country. She has not written to say so: I only gather the -impression from the "on dits" which circulate here. -I do not like to show too much interest in her concerns -because such interest in this land of feverish scandal -might be so easily and malevolently misconstrued. -Before she departed from Unguja for the interior I -gathered that her chief anxiety was lest her mother -should think her unhappy, and mistaken in her career -as a missionary. Farleigh is not so very far from -Aldermaston (the address is "Mrs. Josling, Church -Farm"). Perhaps one day you might find your way -there and have a friendly talk with Lucy Baines's -mother and father, and intimate that I am—as a -Consul—keeping an eye on the welfare and safety -of their daughter and son-in-law. He—Baines—seems -a good-hearted fellow, but quite incapable of -appreciating her real charm, even if he does not think -it wrong for a missionary's wife to </span><em class="italics">have</em><span> charm. She -is really a half-educated country girl, with a fragile -prettiness which will soon disappear under the heat -and malarial fever, with the mind of an unconscious -poetess, the pathetic naïveté of a wild flower which -wilts under transplantation....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I mostly like the missionaries I meet out here; so -you need not mind an occasional collection of Farleigh -coppers and sixpennies being taken up on their account -to the tune of From Greenland's Icy Mountains, etc. -Our religious beliefs do not tally; but I do admire their -self-sacrifice, their energy, and devotion. They are -generally specialists in some one direction—native -languages, folk-lore, botany, entomology, photography, -or even, as in Mrs. Stott's case, the making of plum -cakes. A very admirable solace to the soul, or—where -the natives are concerned—means of conversion!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Your loving brother,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>ROGER.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="mission-life"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">MISSION LIFE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Lucy had reached her husband's station in the -Ulunga country in July, 1887, at the height of -the winter season, south of the Equator. The -climate then of the Ulunga Hills was delightful; dry, -sparkling, sunshiny and crisply cold at nights. Her -health mended fast, nor did she begin to flag again till -the hot weather returned in October and the height -of the wet season, of the southern summer, made -itself felt in December and January by torrential rains, -frightful thunderstorms, blazing sunshine and the -atmosphere of a Turkish bath. For several months -after her arrival she made renewed and spasmodic -efforts to play the part of a missionary's wife, to share -her husband's enthusiasm, and to earn her living—so -to speak—by her contribution of effort. If she -had </span><em class="italics">only</em><span> never met Brentham and if </span><em class="italics">only</em><span> Ann -Jamblin had stopped at home! She could not but admit -the change in John was remarkable. He was less and -less like either of his parents, less and less inclined to -dogmatize; he had become as unselfish as such a -self-absorbed, unobservant man could be. Intensely fond -of work, especially manual work—carpentering, -building, gardening, cutting timber, and contriving -ingenious devices to secure comfort and orderliness—this -backwoods life suited him to perfection. He -was the head of the station, the principal teacher of -the boys and men, the leader of the services in the -chapel. He was responsible for the finances and -general policy of the Mission.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Each of the stations of this Society in East Africa -was a little self-governing republic. Once a year -delegates from each East African station met at Mvita or -Lingani, or some other convenient place, and conferred, -agreed perhaps on some common policy, some general -line of conduct. But there was much individual -freedom of action. John, for example, was taking up a -strong line against the Slave Trade. Since the -dissolution of the Sultan's vague rule which followed the -German invasion, the Arab slave traders had revived -their slave and ivory caravans between Tanganyika -and the Zangian coast owing to the great demand for -labour in Madagascar and in the Persian Gulf. John -had obtained such influence over the head chief of -Ulunga that he had forbidden the Arabs transit through -his lands, and instead of selling his superfluous young -people or his criminals to the slave traders he sent them -to the Mission to be trained in rough carpentry, -reading and writing, husbandry and so forth. The very -flourishing trade that Anderson carried on at the store -made the Mission prosperous enough occasionally to -subsidize the chiefs and reward them for sending their -boys and girls to school and to be ostensibly converted -to Christianity. Some black Muslims who had started -teaching boys the Koran and elements of Muhammadanism -in two of the villages were expelled, and a -resolute war was made by John on the witch doctors -of the tribe, who for a time were routed before the -competition of Cockles' Pills and the other invaluable -patent medicines which were just beginning to appear -in tabloid form.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Brother Bayley's department was more especially the -study of the native language. He translated simple -prayers and hymns and passages of Scripture into the -Kagulu dialect of Ulunga and rendered more educational -literature into the wider-spread Swahili. He -had a small printing-press with which he was labouring -to put his translations into permanent form; and -besides this took a prominent part in the boys' education.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His personal hobby was butterfly and beetle catching. -He devoted his small amount of leisure to collecting -these insects and transmitting them to an agent -in London to sell on his behalf. In this way he made -a fluctuating fifty pounds a year, which was a pleasant -addition to his meagre salary. It provided him with a -few small luxuries and enabled him to send a present -every now and then to his mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then there was Ann Jamblin, of Tilehurst, a -school-fellow of Lucy, a sturdy, plump young woman of about -twenty-seven, with a dead-white complexion, a thick -skin, black hair, black eyebrows and hard eyes of -pebble brown. She had actually arrived at Hangodi -before Lucy herself, though she started out from home -a month later, being of that exasperating type to whom -nothing happens in the same </span><em class="italics">ratio</em><span> as to other people. -She could never be run over, never be drowned at -sea—Lucy thought—never slip on a piece of orange -peel, never be assaulted in a railway carriage. Ann -had been sent out by the Mission Board to be a bride -for Brother Anderson (on a discreet suggestion of -John's, who thought Anderson a little inclined to look -amorously on comely negresses). But she had -declined to fulfil the bargain when she arrived, denied -indeed all knowledge of such an engagement, said she -didn't want to marry any one: only to do the Lord's -work and help all round. Her refusal had been taken -philosophically by the person most concerned, on -account of her unattractive appearance; and was further -softened by her practical usefulness as an independent -member of the Mission. She house-kept for the little -community, attended to the poultry, goats and sheep, -did much of the cooking, made the bread, the cakes, the -puddings; darned the socks, mended the linen, and -taught the native girls the simple arts of British -domestic life. She dressed with little regard to -embellishment of the person, but with much attention to -neatness and mosquito bites. Her humour was rough and -her tongue lashed every one in turn. She had that -unassailable independence of manner which is imparted -by the possession of a private income of one hundred -pounds a year and the knowledge that her martyrdom -was voluntary and self-sought. Hardly ever ill -herself, she nursed every one that was with almost -professional ability.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy secretly detested her, for she was always -gibing at John's wife for being moony and unpractical, -for her "æsthetic tastes," such as liking flowers -on the table at meals; for succumbing quickly to -headaches and megrims generally, and especially for the -ease with which she was humbugged by the big girls -of her school classes. Ann would also gird at her for -lack of religious zeal. Ann herself took an -aggressively hearty part in prayers and hymn-singing, and -mastered the harmonium which had proved unplayable -by Lucy. Ann even tried making her own translations -of her favourite canticles into the native language and -was not deterred or discouraged because in her first -attempts and through the malice of her girl interpreters -she had been misled into rendering the most sacred -phrases and symbolism by gross obscenities. The -delight of shouting out these improprieties in chapel -before the blandly unconscious missionaries, when -Brother Bayley was laid aside by fever, attracted large -congregations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If John Baines were seriously ill with a malarial -attack, Ann would brush Lucy aside as unceremoniously -as she ejected her from the harmonium stool. -She would take complete charge of the sick man, -reduce the fever, and make the broths and potions which -were to sustain convalescence. When Lucy herself -was ill, Ann would either diagnose the attack as -"fancy" or "hysteria," or a touch of biliousness, and -cure it so drastically that Lucy made haste to get well -in order to withdraw from her treatment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was an average day in Lucy's life at Hangodi -in the first year of her stay there——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>6 a.m. Lucy is already awake; John still sleeping -heavily. Lucy had been dreaming she was back at -Aldermaston or else voyaging down the Red Sea with -Brentham, and is still under the shock of disappointment -as she lies gazing up at the dingy cone of mosquito -net suspended over their bed from the rat-haunted -roof. The bedstead is a broad structure—the Arab -"angareb"—an oblong wooden frame with interlaced -strips of ox-hide. On this foundation has been -laid a lumpy cork mattress with well-marked undulations. -On that again a couple of musty blankets and -a sheet. For covering there is another sheet and a -coverlet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy, hearing the awakening bell being tolled, nudges -John, who is still snoring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Lucy</em><span>: "</span><em class="italics">John</em><span>! The first bell has gone!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">John</em><span>: "Wha'?" (Gurgle, gurgle, snore cut short, -lips smacked, heavy sighs.)——"Wha'? Time to -ger-up? Or-right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He tumbles out of bed in his disarranged night-gown—pajamas -were not introduced into the East Africa -Mission till 1890. In doing so he tears the mosquito -curtain with his toe-nails.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A native servant is heard filling two tin baths in the -adjoining roomlet. They then proceed to take their -baths in what—to Lucy—is disgusting promiscuity. -The rest of the toilet is summarily proceeded with. -(As John is fully hirsute there is no shaving to be -done.) Then to avoid remonstrance from her husband -Lucy kneels with him in prayers on a dusty mat, -in fear all the time some scorpion may sting her ankles. -One did, once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At half-past six another bell goes—how the -converts love bell-ringing!—and they hurry out to the -Chapel where the other members of the Mission staff -and a posse of native boys and girls meet them. More -prayers, a psalm, and a hymn sung lustily but -disharmoniously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the whites adjourn to the house or large hut -where the meals of the community are served. The -dining-table is of rough-hewn planks of native timber, -and on either side of it there are similarly rough forms -to sit on, with a native stool at either end of the table. -The breakfast consists of porridge and milk, the -porridge being made of native cereals and often a little -bitter. There is coarse brown bread with a sour taste -as it is made with fermented palm wine. There are -butter from a tin—rather rancid—potted salmon, -and bantams' eggs from the native poultry, so -under-boiled that they run out over the plate when opened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John asks a blessing on the meal. They then proceed -to eat it, while the males drink with some noisiness -the tea that Ann pours out. "You don't seem -to have much appetite this morning, Lucy," says Ann -of malice prepense: "Porridge burnt again? What -is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you. There is nothing wrong with the -porridge, so far as I know. I am simply not hungry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! Been at those bananas again. They're very -sustaining. But you'll never be well if you eat -between meals."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> eat </span><em class="italics">at</em><span> meals and </span><em class="italics">between</em><span> 'em," says Brother -Anderson, "and I'm glad to say loss of appetite don't -never trouble </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>. This is a rare climate to make and -keep you hungry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Anderson is voracious and somewhat lacking in table -manners, defects atoned for by his being an unremitting -worker and well contented with his lot—Eupeptic, -as we learnt to say at a later date. But he keeps -his spoon in his cup and holds it steady with a -black-rimmed thumb when he drinks. He also helps -himself to butter with his own knife, talks with his mouth -full, and never masticates behind closed lips but -displays the process without self-consciousness. Lucy, -who is squeamish about such things, glances at him -occasionally with scarcely concealed disgust. Brother -Bayley eats more sparingly and divides his attention -between his food and a printed vocabulary of Kisagara. -He has a strong predilection for reading at -meals, which ever and again comes under the lash of -Ann's tongue. She does not consider it good manners.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John himself makes a hearty breakfast, but glances -occasionally at Lucy's silent abstemiousness. At last -Ann, the housekeeper, rises after Brothers Bayley and -Anderson have left the table for their work, and says -to Lucy: "Don't sit too long over your food because -I want Priscilla and Florence to clear away, wash up -and then come to me...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She goes out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not well, Lucy, this morning?" says John, who is -beginning to despair about her fitting in to mission -life. The conviction which he often repels takes him -now with an ache. He loves the work himself, not -only the converting these savages to a better mode of -life, but the unrealized colonization about the whole -business, the planting of fruit trees, the increase of -flocks and herds, the freedom from civilization's -shackles and class distinctions....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh yes! I'm quite well ... I suppose. Simply -not hungry. I daresay I shall make up for it at -dinner ... provided Ann leaves me alone and doesn't -nag about eating. I think it's </span><em class="italics">such</em><span> bad manners, -observing what people do at meal times. I don't -comment on her big appetite or on Anderson's disgusting -way of eating...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She means very well," replies John, wishing to be -fair....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I daresay she does. She'd have made you a -much better wife than I. If I die in my next attack -of fever, you ought to marry her ... </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> shouldn't -mind...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Lucy, don't say such dreadful things. You -can't think </span><em class="italics">how</em><span> they hurt me...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment Priscilla and Florence—pronouncing -their imposed baptismal names as "Pilisilla," and -"Filórency" in a loud stage conversation they are -holding together to conceal the fact that they have -rapidly escheated a half-basin-full of sugar—come in -to clear away, and John leads Lucy with an arm round -her waist back to their own quarters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cheer up, old girl! You haven't had fever now -for three months and you're getting your good looks -back. And making splendid progress with your teaching.... -You're beginning to master the language...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is eleven o'clock in the morning and the Girls -School at Hangodi, with its mud walls of wattle and -daub and its thatch of grass and palm mid-ribs, is hot -to the extent of eighty degrees Fahrenheit. Despite -the open door (for the small glass-paned windows are -not made to open) the atmosphere is close and redolent -of perspiring Negroes. Lucy raises her eyes from her -desk and looks about her as though realizing the scene -from a new point of view, without illusion or kindly -allowance. At the end of the School-house, opposite -to the teacher's platform and desk, is the entrance-door -of heavy planks adzed from native timber. -Through the wide-open doorway can be seen a square -of sun-baked red clay which refracts a dazzling -flame-white effulgence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the eye got used to this brilliancy of sunlight -on a surface polished by the pattering of naked feet, it -could distinguish rows of Eucalyptus saplings, and -here and there the rich green of a native shade-tree, -together with part of a red brick chapel roofed with -corrugated iron and several thatched houses of -white-washed clay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the walls of the School were hung a map of the -World on Mercator's projection and a map of Africa; -a large scroll with elementary illustrations of Natural -History—typical beasts, birds, reptiles, fish and -insects, of sizes as disproportionate as the inhabitants -of a Noah's Ark. There were also placards with -arithmetical figures, letters of the alphabet and single -syllable combinations: </span><em class="italics">M a, ma; b a, ba; l e, le</em><span>, etc. -Over the wall, behind the teacher's desk and above -the black-board, was a long strip of white paper, -printed in big black capitals: MWAACHE WATOTO -WANIKARIBU ("Suffer little children to -come unto Me"). The words were in the widely -understood Swahili language, the medium through which -Lucy endeavoured with many difficulties and -misunderstandings to impart her knowledge to her -semi-savage pupils.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A lull after her two hours' teaching had begun. A -Negro woman of some intelligence, a freed slave from -Unguja and the wife of "Josaia Birigizi" (Josiah -Briggs) the interpreter, was talking in a low sing-song -voice with the little girls, practising them in the -alphabet and the syllables formed by consonant and vowel. -The class, ranged upon rows of rough forms in front -of the teacher's desk, consisted of black girls of all -sizes, from little children to young, nubile women; but -they were separated by an aisle down the middle of -the room and were assorted according to height into -two categories, "A-</span><em class="italics">big</em><span>-geru" and "A-</span><em class="italics">lig</em><span>-geru," -these phrases being Bantu corruptions of "Big girls," -and "Little girls."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Although nearly if not quite naked when at home, -here on the Mission premises they were dressed in -short-sleeved smocks of white calico, loose from the -neck downwards, most of them soiled and in need of -washing. The girls consequently had a frowsy look, -somewhat belied by their glossy faces and arms, their -brilliant eyes, and dazzling white teeth. The smaller -children were pretty little things that any teacher might -have petted, but most of the bigger girls had an -impudent look and an ill-concealed expression of over-fed -idleness tending towards imaginings of sensuality. A -critic of missionary policy in those days would have -felt inclined to put these bigger girls to good, hard, -manual labour in the mornings which should by the -afternoon have taken the sauciness out of them; and -have reserved their mental education for the afternoon, -when they had returned from brick-making or field -hoeing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No sooner did Lucy relapse into silence and show -signs of reverie than they set to work to whisper of -their love affairs, to push and pull one another about -with giggles and peevish complaints; or else to let -slates fall with a clatter whilst they watched with -interest the flitting of rats about the rafters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy raised her eyes likewise to the roof. Its -framework was constructed of the smooth, shiny -mid-ribs of palm-fronds, descending from a central -ridge-pole below the mud walls and supporting outside a -shade over the verandah. Across the palm rafters -were laid transverse rows of more or less straight -branches or sticks, and to these were attached the -round bunches of coarse grass which formed the thatch. -From rafters and beams there fell every now and -again little wafts of yellowish powder, due to the -industrious drilling of the wood by burrowing beetles. -But the thatch was alive with larger things than -insects, especially where it came in contact with the top -of the clay walls. Here an occasional lizard darted -in and out the rafters like a whip, and rats poked out -their long faces with quizzical, beady eyes, watching -the proceedings below with rat-like impudence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Teaching had begun at nine, and would go on till -lunch-time—twelve. But already by eleven the -teacher was weary and could not concentrate her -thoughts on the drudgery of getting elementary ideas -about reading, spelling and counting into these Palæolithic -brains. She fell silent. Her eyes first ranged -over the School-house, taking in all its details in a mood -of scornful hostility. She had never so completely -realized the hatefulness of her present existence and its -bitter contrast with her home life in England. She -was sick of John's simple piety, of Brother Anderson's -sanctimoniousness and disagreeably affectionate -manner to herself ... and his way of eating, his -behaviour at table, his unctuous prayers. Mr. Bayley, -whose quiet manners and politeness appealed to her, -was, nevertheless, fanatical about the letter of -Scripture—a bigot, Captain Brentham would have called -him. It would not be loyal to her husband—John, -at least, was sincere and worked very hard; otherwise -what </span><em class="italics">satirical</em><span> letters she could write about it all!...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the one she most disliked among her associates -was Ann Jamblin. Ann came between her and John, -just as they might have hit it off, have come to some -agreement about religion or her own share in Mission -work. If Ann had never come out, things might have -been more bearable.... Ann had come here on a -false pretence. She was in love with John, </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> was -certain, though John was too much of a goose to see it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Certainly she had made herself useful, </span><em class="italics">odiously</em><span> -useful.... The men liked her because she made them -so comfortable.... That talent, of course, was -inherited from the ham and beef shop at home! She -shared Lucy's teaching work and taught the women -and girls in the afternoon—taught them sensible -things—cooking, plain sewing, washing, ironing, -leaving to Lucy—as she pretended—the "fine lady" part -of the work, the instruction of their minds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy's eyes flashed in her day-dream when she -realized how she had grown to loathe the morning and -evening prayers.... Brother Anderson's contribution -to the uplifting of the spirit, especially. </span><em class="italics">How</em><span> -weary was the Sunday with its two "native" services, -both conducted by John in English, broken Swahili, -and Kagulu, with the long-drawn-out interpretation -of Josiah Briggs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had had good health since she reached Hangodi, -after that ghastly nightmare journey from the coast. -That was fortunate, because the nearest medical help -was fifty miles away. But </span><em class="italics">oh!</em><span> the monotony of the -life! How much longer could she stand it? It was -not so bad for the men. Every Saturday they took a -whole holiday and went down to the lower country and -shot game and guinea-fowl for the food of the station. -Sometimes they "itinerated" and she and Ann were -left alone. John always asserted it was not safe for -white women to travel, except to and from the coast. -With much camp life he believed they became unwomanly....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There had only been three mails since she had arrived -last July. Captain Brentham sent her books and -newspapers, but Ann tossed her head over these attentions -and John once or twice confiscated the books as -being of dangerous tendencies; subversive of a simple -faith. The station itself was provided with little else -to read except the Bible, a few goody-goody books and -magazines, grammars and dictionaries of native languages.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In England she had imagined she was going to -sketch and botanize, collect butterflies, and keep all -sorts of wonderful pets, besides beholding superb -scenery and meeting every now and then celebrated -explorers. That dream had soon passed away. She -had no time for sketching in the week, and it was -considered wrong to do it on a Sunday. And even if -she outraged the sentiment of the community and sat -down with her sketch-block and water colours before -a flowering tree or a striking view, ants came up and -bit her, midges attacked her face till it was puffed out, -or the sun was too hot or the wind too boisterous. As -to botanizing, there was certainly splendid forest—with -tree-ferns and orchids—higher up the Ulunga -mountains, but it was pronounced unsafe to botanize -there except in a party. There were snakes, or -leopards, or lurking warriors of unfriendly tribes....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her thoughts then turned to the homeland.... -Presently she was back in the scenes she had left nearly -a year ago.... She saw herself walking slowly from -Aldermaston village up the road to Mortimer, her -father's farmhouse just left behind. She stopped to -greet old Miss Fanning, who inhabited the rather -monastic-looking school-teacher's house by a special -concession, as Lucy—her successor—lived with her -parents hard by. The children of the village were playing -games with the pupil teacher in the large grassy yard. -She could see quite distinctly the rustic shed which -surrounded two sides of the playground—like the -verandah of an African house. In her day-dream the -children, blue-eyed, flaxen-haired, seemed to greet her. -They were so fond of her—How </span><em class="italics">could</em><span> she have left -them? ... Then in imagination she was farther along -the Mortimer road, past the high brick wall of -Aldermaston Park. Lordly blue-green cedars topped the -wall of mellow brick. Then when the wall turned off -to the right it was succeeded by a high bank and hedge -as the road mounted and rose above the river valley. -She could see, oh! with such detail, the soft green -fern-fronds of the bank. Above the male ferns grew a row -of hart's-tongue. Above that, here and there a -foxglove, tufts of bell heather and where the hedge -lowered and you could see into spaces of the oak wood, -there were brakes of French willow herb in pink blossom....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What a series of pictures now passed before her -mental vision as instinctively she closed her eyes to -Africa, to her silent, observant class, who thought that -she was dozing! White ducks on a wayside pond, set -in a crescent of duckweed; clipped and shaven yews -in front of an old brick-and-timber cottage with a -steep thatched roof; an upland hayfield, sturdy, -wholesome men with frank blue eyes and brawny arms of -beefy red; long-horned cattle with a make-believe -fierceness which had never imposed on her, standing -in the shade of elms and whisking flies from off their -red flanks and cream bellies; her mother's garden, gay -with phlox, sweet peas and pansies, and scented with -dark red roses.... Oh, </span><em class="italics">why</em><span> had she ever left her -mother, left her pleasant tranquil work at the National -school to join John out in East Africa? It was vanity, -partly; wishing to get married; wishing to travel.... -For the evangelizing of Africa she had ceased to care -since her talks with Captain Brentham—"Roger," -she called him to herself—and still more since she -had come to know Africa.... But "Roger"—Well, -if she hadn't come out to Africa she would -certainly never have had the opportunity to know </span><em class="italics">him</em><span> -... on that steamer voyage!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy's thoughts were abruptly brought back to -Eastern Africa and discipline in her school class; for -a too venturesome rat, darting up a rafter, had lost -his footing and fallen plop amongst the girls—the -"Big-geru," and they, upsetting forms and throwing -away slates, had flung themselves in a struggling heap -on the spot where the rat had landed. From out of -the mêlée one triumphant young woman rose up, with -her smock torn from top to bottom, but holding up -a damaged, dying rat by its broken tail. A loud -clamour of voices disputing the fairness of the -capture and the answering shrieks of the capturer, secure -in the possession of her prize (which she would shortly -eat broiled over the ashes as a relish to her sorghum -porridge), roused Lucy to a show of anger which stilled -the tumult and turned the girls' attention to their -teacher. She, standing up and trying to stammer out -in Swahili words of adequate reproof, realized still -more vividly the dreariness of her present lot, and -bursting into an agony of tears, buried her head in -her arms over the desk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little children gazed at her grief, awe-struck. -Could rich, god-like white people have any sorrow, -when they might wear cloth to any extent and had -white salt in bottles and delicious foods in tins? -Propelled by Josiah's wife they stole away wondering; -and the "Big-geru" left the school gracelessly, with -loud laughs and free comments in Kagulu on the white -woman's show of emotion. The schoolroom clock -ticked on, the rats, emboldened, rushed about the -thatch and dropped without mishap on the floor, whence -they scuttled out on to the verandah, then up the posts -and so into the roof again. The flame-white sunlight -grew fiercer in the square, the shadows of the trees -shorter and more purple. At last a loud bell clanged, -and presently Ann Jamblin looked in and said with a -shade of insolence as she passed on: "The luncheon -bell, Lucy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy affected not to hear her, but hurriedly dabbed -her tear-stained face with a handkerchief, shook her -white dress tidy, smoothed her hair with a hand-touch -here and there, and took down a book from a shelf as -if to study....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her husband stood at the doorway.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Luncheon's ready, dear.... Have the girls been -unruly this morning?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, I'm not hungry. Don't wait lunch for -me. I dare say I shan't want anything till tea-time.... -The girls? Oh! Not worse than usual. I have -no influence with them.... It's my fault, of course. -I was never cut out for this work. Please, </span><em class="italics">please</em><span> -don't wait.... I suppose it isn't part of one's -Christian duty to eat when you aren't hungry?..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John Baines looked downcast ... and went out to -the lunch of roast kid or roast guinea-fowl, sweet -potatoes, boiled plantains, and banana fritters in syrup -of sugar-cane, with less appetite than usual.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy meantime tries to pretend she is interested in a -book. It is far too hot to walk out and botanize. -And then, what is the use of pressing these plants? -The colour of the gorgeous petals soon fades to brown, -fungi and minute insects attack them and they crumble -into dust; and the Mission objects to all the -blotting-paper being used up in this way....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently John returns; with a native servant carrying -a tray on which are tea things, slices of guinea-fowl -breast, some boiled sweet potatoes, and banana fritters. -To obtain this rather tempting little meal he has had -to face the scornful opposition of Ann Jamblin, but -for once he has turned on her (to the silent dismay of -Bros. Bayley and Anderson). "Ann," he has said, -"you must learn to keep your tongue and temper -under control. It is you who drive Lucy away from -our meals by your constant fault-finding. We are not -all made alike; some of us are more sensitive than -others." Ann, strange to say, is silenced by his sharp -tone and makes no retort.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, Lucy," he said, after the little meal has been -placed on the table by her desk; "you will only make -yourself ill by this refusal to eat. I am sorry Ann -has been so teasing. I have spoken to her. Now try -to eat this little lunch whilst we are quiet in here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy looks at it and at him. In the middle of the -tray is an enamelled iron tumbler containing a small -bunch of mallow flowers with large lemon-tinted petals -and a vivid mauve centre. This, from John, means -so much, as a concession to her tastes. She bursts into -tears—at this period she was very soppy!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, John! You </span><em class="italics">are</em><span> good to me. I really </span><em class="italics">don't</em><span> -deserve such kindness. I have been a </span><em class="italics">dreadful</em><span> -disappointment to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well; eat up the lunch and you'll make me happy," -says poor John. "Why shouldn't we </span><em class="italics">all</em><span> be happy -here, Lucy?" he goes on. "The Lord has singularly -blessed our work; the climate—for Africa—is not -at all bad; you can't say the scenery is ugly, there are -beautiful flowers all around—and—and ferns. -We're getting on well with the people, much better -than I ever expected. Why, your schoolroom is -already too small for the numbers and Bayley has to -teach his classes out of doors in the 'baraza.' Look -at our plantations—how the lemon trees and oranges -are growing—and the coffee. It's true we get our -mails rather seldom. There seems to be something -queer going on at the coast. The carriers can't get -through.... The Germans, I suspect. But we're -safe and snug enough here. As for me, I don't want -to hear from home. Mother's letters are not -precisely cheering. I only ask to go on with the Lord's -work without interruption. </span><em class="italics">Do</em><span> try to be cheerful, -darling ... do you think you—Do you think there -is—er—any hope of—your——?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I </span><em class="italics">will</em><span> try once more, John. But couldn't we live -more by ourselves? Ann gets on my nerves, do what -I will. Couldn't we do our own housekeeping?" -continues Lucy, clasping her hands and looking at him -pleadingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said John, a little ruefully, "you know you -</span><em class="italics">did</em><span> try for a month after you first came, but it was -such a failure that you gave it up. You couldn't stand -the heat of the cookhouse, or manage the cook, or do -the accounts in calico for the things you bought. -And—you don't know much about cooking. Why should -you? You're a first-class teacher. And then, you -know, you were so set at first on studying—studying -botany—and painting pictures. I thought, even, you -might write for the Mission Magazine, like Mrs. Lennox -and Mrs. Baxter...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Lucy</em><span>: "But they always want you to write goody -goody and bring in the Lord at every turn and make -out the black people to be quite different from what -they are—Somehow I couldn't fall in with their -style, it's so humbugging——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">John</em><span>: "Well, then, write for other magazines, -worldly ones if you like. I'm sure you could write -well—you used to make up beautiful poetry before -we were married, and you've had thrilling enough -experiences on the way up. It isn't every missionary's -wife who's had a lion trying to get into her tent——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Lucy</em><span>: "The thought of </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> journey </span><em class="italics">still</em><span> makes me -sick. And yet I used to think I should adore African -travel—" (An ungrateful thought flashed through -her mind: "so I should, with—with—some -people"). "Besides, if I told the true story—bugs, -ants, snakes, rotting corpses, and all—it might stop -other missionary women from coming out. No. I -can't write anything. I </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> make collections of flowers, -but you won't let me go far from the Station to -botanize and you're always too busy to come with me. As -to painting, it's either too wet, or too hot, or too -something. And then you hinted once I shouldn't take a -half-holiday every day but help some one else in their -work, so I give up some of my time to Mr. Bayley.... -No, I won't call him 'Brother Bayley,' it's so -silly, all this brother and sister business"—(a short -pause and a sudden impulse). "John! Couldn't you -take me home next dry season—and get them to give -you work at home—? Or" (noting his look of -dismay) "send me home to Mother and join me there -later on, when your leave is due?..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">John</em><span>: "It would just </span><em class="italics">break my heart</em><span> either to part -with you or to throw up my missionary career...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Lucy</em><span>: "Well, then, could I go on an itinerary—as -you call it—with you? Not be cooped up here -with that intolerable Ann when you three men go off -on a round of preaching. I'd promise not to mind -anything—snakes, ants, lions, or even the Masai. -Perhaps I might get to enjoy Africa that way without -all this intolerable religion...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">John</em><span>: "</span><em class="italics">Lucy!</em><span>..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Lucy</em><span>: "I didn't mean to shock you again, but I -couldn't help it. I don't know what's come over me, -but I've grown to </span><em class="italics">hate</em><span> religion, and still more -pretending to be religious. I'm sick of the Bible ... at -least I mean of the Old Testament. It always makes -me think of some wearisome old grandmother who says -the same thing over and over again.... Who wrote -it? That's what </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> want to know. How do we know -the old Jews didn't make it up and pretend it was -inspired?" (John ejaculates a "</span><em class="italics">Lucy!</em><span>" of protest at -intervals, but she is so carried away by a desire to -express her revolt that she pays no heed.) "You -know I've been trying to help Mr. Bayley in his -translations by reading slowly bits of the Bible—just now -we're in Exodus. He </span><em class="italics">would</em><span> begin at Genesis, even -though I said all the people wanted was the Gospels—I -don't think I ever studied the Bible much at home -and it all comes fresh to me as though I had never -thought about it before.... Well, Exodus.... -Have you ever read those chapters where Moses fasted—or -said he fasted—for forty days and nights </span><em class="italics">without -food or even water</em><span> whilst he was writing down -God's sayings? ... How silly some of them sound.... -How particular the Almighty seemed about the -colours of the tabernacle curtains—blue, purple, and -scarlet—and about the snuffers and the snuff-dishes -being made of pure gold. And about the 'knops.' -... What is a 'knop'? Poor Mr. Bayley can't find -the word in any dictionary. What can be the good of -translating all this into Kagulu? It only puzzles the -natives, Josiah told me. Mr. Bayley's always losing -his temper with Josiah because he can't find the right -Gulu or even Swahili word for some of these things -in Exodus. Surely all you want to teach them is -simple Christianity and how to live less like pigs and more -like decent human beings...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">John</em><span> (interposing at last, after he has cast his -counter argument into words): "How can you teach -them about Christ without first explaining what led -up to Christ, the Fall and the Redemption? We want -to give them the whole Bible, even if we don't -understand every passage ourselves. Every word of the -Bible is inspired." (Lucy makes a mute protest.) -"But oh! my Lucy ... what I feared and foretold -has come to pass. This coquetting with Science has -cost you your faith. Kneel down." (She knelt with -him unwillingly on the little platform.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh Lord," prayed John, most earnestly, "visit -Thine handmaid in her sore need for Thy help! -Dispel her doubts with the sunshine of—of—thy grace. -Convince her of Thine Almighty Power and Wisdom -and consecrate her to Thy service in this Heathen Land."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They rose to their feet constrainedly. John covertly -flicked the dust from his trousers, blew his nose, and -wiped eyes suffused with emotion. Lucy impatiently -shook her white skirt. How she hated these -impromptu genuflections which always shortened the -wearing life of the skirt and sent it prematurely to -the wash. And much washing made it shrink so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still, her passion was spent and she felt very, very -sorry for her husband, and a little guilty in her -discontent. If she had come out straight to him from -England under no other influence, would she not have -been a fairer critic, have taken more kindly to mission -work? And was not John really cut out for a missionary, -with every reason to be proud of his station's -success?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These silent musings, while John awkwardly -hummed a hymn tune, were broken in upon by the -strident voice and bustling presence of Ann Jamblin. -"Well, then, young people" (being three years older -than they were she sometimes assumed a maternal -air), "if you've finished honeymooning, I'll take the -tray away and get the school ready for my sewing -class." (To one without: "Pilisilla! Ring the bell -three times.")</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They left the School-house without answering her, -hand in hand. Lucy felt so sorry for John that she -resolved once more to try to be a missionary's wife -and helpmeet. The intense heat of the forenoon was -breeding a thunderstorm, and already the sky was -overcast, and a few puffs of cool air were blowing up from -the plains. Presently these grew into an alarming -dust-storm, a hurricane which blew Bayley's proofs -and manuscript to right and left; and when Lucy -rushed in to pick them up she was blinded for a -minute by the glare of lightning. Then the wind dropped -before a deluge—a grey, sweeping deluge of rain. -In trying to save this and that, Lucy and Ann were -drenched to the skin and had to change their soaking -garments. The change to dry clothes, the rub down -somehow cheered them, and made them more friendly. -Lucy then returned to Bayley's study and once more -helped him in the returning daylight with his -translations. But he was now well into Leviticus, and some -passages proved so embarrassing to both Lucy and -Josiah that the former broke off with the exclamation, -"It's teatime."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And sure enough there sounded the one pleasant -summons in the twenty-four hours: the tea bell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rain had ceased, the darkness had lifted for a -while and left the western sky a sweet lemon yellow, -out of which a tempered sunlight twinkled. The air -had become fresh and uplifting in a dying breeze. The -little party met round the tea-table in a mood to jest -and to be friendly. Ann, more good-humoured than -usual, described her sousing. She also told Lucy she -had had two of Lucy's skirts mended at her sewing -lesson, to save her the trouble. Oh, it was all right; -they had served as a pattern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A couple of armed porters arrived during teatime, -their calico clothing still adhering to their brown -bodies from the rain storm through which they had stolidly -walked. They had not brought the regular "Europe" -mail from Unguja, but some parcels from Mr. Callaway -and local letters. These read aloud over the tea -table spoke of the restlessness of the coast population -caused by the administration of the German Company, -of Arab gossip at Unguja, of the sombre news from -Nyasaland where a Scottish trading Company was at -open war with the Arabs, in trying to defend the -population from Arab slave raids. Tiputipu was away on -the Congo looking for Stanley and had withdrawn his -restraining influence from the Tanganyika Arabs. -Was a concerted Arab attack on the interfering white -man about to begin? The missionaries looked from -one to the other a little anxiously. A growing feeling -of </span><em class="italics">camaraderie</em><span> linked them. They felt themselves to -be an outpost of Christianity in a world threatened by -the Moslem. They congratulated John in that he had -so completely won over the Ulunga chief, Mbogo, that -the latter had expelled the Arab traders from his hill -country and made common cause with the White man....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At dinner—or as they better styled it, supper—they -were quite cheerful. There was even a special -zest in the evening service, point and </span><em class="italics">vim</em><span> in the -shortened prayers. Ann was congratulated by Lucy on her -ground-nut soup and "pepperpot"; and the treacle -pudding which followed was declared a masterpiece.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John that night kissed his wife tenderly in mute -recognition of her more sympathetic attitude.... She -did not shrink as usual from his caresses.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="roger-arrives"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">ROGER ARRIVES</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Sir James Eccles, it was decided, was not to -return to Unguja to guide once more the destinies -of East Africa. Prince Bismarck would not hear of -it. After considerable hesitation Sir Godfrey -Dewburn, K.C.I.E., was appointed to succeed him in the -spring of 1888 and arrived at Unguja to take up his -position as Agent and Consul-General when Roger -Brentham had about completed a year's tenure of the -post in an "acting" capacity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Godfrey Dewburn was a fortunate Irish soldier, -who—because he had a capacity for getting on well -with everybody—had held a high administrative -position in India, though outside the ranks of the Indian -Civil Service. He did well over the Prince of Wales's -visit in organizing successful durbars, nautch dances -and perfect shooting picnics, in which record tigers -were bagged. He did better still in an aftermath of -the Imperial visit, when the Duke of Ulster and the -Hereditary Prince of Baden came out to shoot in -Dewburn's new province. He had also married, with very -wise prevision, a daughter of the Choselwhit who was -legal adviser to the Circumlocution Office. When it -was felt that Sir James Eccles must be thrown over to -avoid a breach with Germany, which threatened a -Franco-Germano-Russian alliance against us, -somebody—perhaps the Duke of Ulster, who still -remembered Dewburn's champagne cup, cooled with the snows -of the Himalaya and tendered just at the psychological -moment when the most splendid of the tigers had fallen -to the Royal rifle—suggested Dewburn for the post. -And as he was backed up by the India Office, who -wanted to weed their Civil Service of outsiders, and by -Molyneux who thought Dewburn's dinners at the -"Rag" quite the best in London, Lord Wiltshire, tired -and preoccupied over the Parnell letters, gave way and -appointed Dewburn. Lord Silchester's suggestion of -Brentham was deemed "indelicate," emphasized as -it was by Sibyl, to whom Lord Wiltshire had taken a -whimsical dislike.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dewburn, when he came out, posed as a jolly good -fellow who praised every one all round and enchanted -Mrs. Bazzard by his manners and easy cordiality. But -after a bit, Brentham's efficiency got on his nerves. -It was irritating to hear his subordinate—so much -better fitted than he for the post, some might have -said—prattling and swearing in Swahili and Unguja -Arabic, and rather markedly doing without an -interpreter. Dewburn spoke French well and a little bad -Hindustani, but there his linguistics ended; and his -brain sutures being closed would admit no knowledge -of an African tongue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then there was Spencer Bazzard always at hand, -serviceable unto servility, ready to jot inspirations and -judgments down on a writing-pad with some prehistoric -form of the fountain-pen or indelible pencil, and -reproduce these utterances afterwards, conveniently -elaborated. Brentham, on the other hand, preferred -putting in a draft of his own, which took quite an -independent line and might have led H.M. Government -to do something, make up their minds to some definite -course....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then again, Brentham's real destination was the -German mainland.... The situation there was -strained.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bazzard somehow amused and intrigued Sir -Godfrey (Lady Dewburn had not yet arrived). He -guessed her as somewhat of a demi-rep, but to him, as to -me, such a person is more interesting to study than the -simple village maiden, or the clergyman's daughter with -her smooth hair parted in the middle....</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Who precisely were the Bazzards? May I, with a -novelist's omniscience, clear up the mystery?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a celebrated firm of solicitors in Staple -Inn known as Grewgious and Bazzard. It had -originated in a Mr. Hiram Grewgious, who had a valuable -Norfolk connexion and had figured with some distinction -and celebrity in a famous Kentish murder trial in -the early 'sixties. The junior partner, Mr. Bazzard, -took over the business from Mr. Grewgious, and when -the latter died in 1878 still preserved the honoured -style of the firm. This Mr. Bazzard led a double life, -in that he was not only a particularly astute solicitor, -but also a playwright of ability who produced at least -two stirring melodramas under a </span><em class="italics">nom de plume</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As solicitor he had lifted Mr. Bennet Molyneux once -out of a considerable difficulty and delicate dilemma -... he had ascertained that the lady was travelling -under an assumed name and ... in short, he had -settled the affair without any fuss, and Molyneux was -thoroughly grateful and asked him to dine at the Travellers, -giving, of course, due notice, so that the guest-room, -in those distant days with its settees thick with -dust, might be got ready, and a fire be lit to take off -the chill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Over walnuts and port, Mr. Bazzard had mentioned -the existence of a much-younger brother—fifteen -years younger, in point of fact—rather at a loose -end since he was called to the Bar—clever chap withal, -steady, married now to a deuced pretty woman, but -in his youth the very devil with the sex. ("Just so," -would nod Mr. Molyneux comprehendingly, who, -except for the most pardonable slip with Mrs. —— at -Lucerne, was a blameless husband and father.) Well, -then, there he was—had tried ranching in the States -and buying horses in the Argentine, got done in the -eye by that scoundrel, Bax Strangeways—knew a -lot about the tropics—stand any climate—take on -any job. In short, did Mr. Molyneux know of an -opening anywhere in Africa, C.O. or F.O., for a -sporting chap with a knowledge of Law?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Bennet had put down his name for a vacancy -in the East African Consular service. And having -thus taken him under his wing, was prepared to stand -by him through thick and thin ... even deluded -himself into thinking he was a damned good sort, and his -golden-haired wife—"bit of the devil in her, no -doubt"—a fit person for Mrs. Molyneux to -know—in the country, at any rate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps she was. Why should one sneer at a -woman for trying to improve her position and looks -and wriggle into a less sordid sphere than that in which -she was brought up? Emilia Standish—christened -Emily, of course, but wrote her name "Emilia" from -the time she was seventeen—was, as Captain -Brentham ill-naturedly guessed, the daughter of a -Bayswater widow who kept a Bayswater boarding-house -(few districts of London have such a power for -moulding human beings to its guise). Emilia -Standish—or was it Stapleton?—I really forget—had tried -life as a governess with ill success. She confided to -her mother, and her mother only, that she might have -succeeded here or there had not her pupil's father -made improper advances from which she had to flee. -She had studied for the stage, but like her predestined -fate, Spencer Bazzard, she, at thirty-two, was -somewhat at a loose end and living at home when Spencer -came to lodge at her mother's boarding-house. He -was down on his luck, almost in hiding, nearly cast -off by his highly respectable, much older brother. He -fell ill. Emilia took pity on him, nursed him, and -defied her mother over the financial question. Out of -gratitude he proposed. She accepted him and took -stock of the situation, called on the elder brother in -Staple Inn, secured his advocacy for a "colonial" -appointment—and—you know the rest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Spencer can't have been wholly bad, because though -they had many a private tiff and unheard wrangle, -this woman stuck by him and made a career for him. -Brentham, in writing to his sister, gave too unfair a -description of Spencer. He omitted to notice that -though his knowledge of law was so imperfect as to -throw doubt on the efficacy of the examinations which -then admitted to the Bar, he had at any rate acquired -some knowledge of shorthand, and certain of the -qualities necessary to playing private secretary to an -important personage. So that Sir Godfrey preferred greatly -the retention of Bazzard as his lieutenant at Unguja, -rather than the slightly gloomy and excessively -well-informed Brentham.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There came at this time rumour after rumour that -the Arabs of the Zangian coast were preparing to rise -in force not only against the Germans but against all -white men. They were concerting measures in -common with the Arabs of Mombasa, of Tanganyika, -Nyasa and the Upper Congo to expel all white men -from East Africa and found a great Slave-holding -empire which might link up with the victoriously -anti-European Mahdi of the Sudan. Sir Godfrey -Dewburn did not clothe his Memorandum of instructions -to Brentham in exactly these comprehensive and -grandiloquent terms, derived from a contemporaneous -essay of my own, but he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, dear old chap. You know you are a -bit of the fifth wheel to the coach here, on this potty -little island. You've put me up to all the ropes, I'm -well in the saddle. Now suppose you cut along to -your own show? The mainland, hey? Go and round -up those blasted Germans, don't you know? Of -course, steer clear of quarrels—that'd never do. Be -coldly polite, but see what they're up to and report -to me—fully. Strikes me it's blowing up for a -storm...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Brentham shipped himself and his indispensable -retinue of Goanese cook, Swahili butler, and a nucleus -of fifteen always dependable gunmen-porters of the -stalwart Unyamwezi breed over to Medinat-al-barkah—the -"Town of Blessings," on the Zangian coast: -formerly the chief shipping port of slaves and now the -head-quarters of the German Chartered Company which -had succeeded to the authority of the Sultan of Unguja.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few months afterwards, when he had organized a -Consulate and an Indian clerical staff in an adapted, -cleansed, and tidied Arab house, he received an urgent -and confidential communication from Sir Godfrey:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The F.O. is much perturbed by the reports of -Arab risings against the German Company. Mvita -seems to be quiet under Mackenzie. The various -missionary societies are clamouring for information and -some indication that H.M.G. realizes the seriousness -of the situation. I have been instructed semi-officially -by H. and M. that you should at once proceed inland -with a sufficiently strong caravan and visit the -missionary stations within a radius of—say—three hundred -miles of Medina, assisting the white people to repair -to safe positions on the coast, especial care being taken -to bring away their women and children. You know -far better what to do than I, who am a new comer to -East Africa. So, </span><em class="italics">carte blanche</em><span>. Do your best. -Good luck and chin-chin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lady Dewburn, who has just come out, is dying to -put her feet on a maned lion skin when she gets out of -bed. So if you've any luck shooting, 'Then you'll -remember me!'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>"Yours,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>"GODFREY DEWBURN."</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In consequence of these instructions you can picture -such events as these occurring at the end of September, -1888.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy Baines, attended by Josiah Briggs's wife -Halima, was taking the air on the outskirts of Hangodi. -She had had a baby in the previous July, and was still -weak and anaemic. The confinement had been a -difficult one, as it was a little premature, owing to Lucy -having been frightened by a hyena. A medical -missionary had been in hurried attendance, and kind -Mrs. Stott had come fifty miles to act as an amateur -midwife. But the child died soon after its birth, and Lucy, -for the first fortnight, had been delirious. If her child -had lived her whole outlook might have changed and -brightened. As it was——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John had rigged up a kind of machila—I can't -explain a second time what a machila is—a compromise -between a palanquin and a hammock—and this could -be taken out on short journeys by two strong porters. -With this and her pupil-teacher, Halima, in attendance, -Lucy was wont to make little afternoon pilgrimages -along the red paths on the outskirts of the Hangodi -plateau.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this and that shady spot she would leave her -machila languidly, sit on a camp stool and pick flowers -and examine them: or she would practise her Swahili -and Kagulu with Halima and question this woman—greatly -devoted to her—on native manners and customs, -or native legends. The two porters would squat -at a respectful distance, or if told they would not be -wanted for half an hour, would stroll off to the nearest -native village.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On this particular day in September they came -running back in great excitement to say a white man's -</span><em class="italics">safari</em><span> was approaching. It could be seen in the -plain below ... quite a small army of black men -headed by one white man, coming in single file over -the burnt grass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rumour had flown ahead of it ... as it did in -Africa, in pre-telegraph days. The white man was a -great English consul coming to make a treaty with -Ulunga, or coming to fight the Arabs, or to turn the -Wa-dachi out of the country and to place Nguru under -the Woman chief of the English. Mbogo the chief -had already run up his English flag....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy's heart stood still and she sat on her camp -stool too much overcome to remain standing. Could -it ... be ... Roger?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Halima fumbled in her basket and produced a restorative. -Presently Lucy rose to her feet and said in -a decisive tone:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take me to meet the white man...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They met about three miles from the Mission -Station. Seeing the machila approaching, heralded by the -boastful singing of its carriers, anxious to do their -mistress honour, Brentham had got off his riding -donkey and handed it to a follower carrying his sporting -rifle.. He walked to meet the unknown person -swaying in the jaunty advance of the delighted porters. -The machila stopped. Lucy emerged from it, then -overcome with dizziness sank down by the wayside. -Quickly he had raised her, unthinkingly and -instinctively their arms were round each other.... "My -dearest girl! You are safe then? Your station has -not been attacked?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My darling </span><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>! you have come for me ... take, -oh, </span><em class="italics">take</em><span> me away!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus they spoke instinctively in continuation of -thoughts long sanctioned by their inner consciousness, -but never outwardly expressed. There were no -listeners who could understand what the avowals meant. -Nevertheless they hastened to resume a correct parlance -as between old acquaintances and nothing more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think," said Lucy, "you had better send one or -two spare men on ahead with a brief note to my -husband saying you will be arriving at our station in about -an hour, that you met me on the road and will bring -me on with you. This will give our people time -to—to—plan where to put you all. There won't be room -for everybody inside the stockade. Then when you've -sent off the note we can rest for half an hour or so in -that piece of shade, where there are the euphorbias and -the fig trees, and I shan't feel quite so shaky. I've been -rather ill—I'll tell you all about it when you've sent -off the note."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger scribbled the message on a leaf out of his -road-book.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is our station," said Lucy, "about two miles -off, on that great spur that comes out from the -mountain. You can see the white houses and the red brick -chapel and the glint of the corrugated iron. And away -to the—well, I s'pose it's the south—is the chief -Mbogo's principal village—all those little brown -huts...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two impatient messengers scarcely waited for -this information but bounded off to deliver their -message and find some resting-place for the caravan, -extenuated as it was with the long, hot march.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy took Roger's arm—how it thrilled her, how -like an impossible dream come true!—and followed -by Halima and the machila reached the patch of blue -shade made by a group of candelabra euphorbias and -fig trees with thick glossy leaves and pendent branches. -The ground underneath was absolutely clear of any -cover for snakes and was whitish with the ashes of -many a cooking fire, lit here by caravans arriving at -evening and preferring to postpone their interviews -with Chief Mbogo—sometimes a rapacious gentleman -over his dues—till the morning light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whilst Brentham's cook was preparing a cup of tea, -Lucy poured forth tumultuously her story of the chief -happenings of the past six months. Brentham said in -reply that she must have gone through a beastly time; -but she might now take heart. He had come with -definite instructions to take her away to the coast and -her husband too, if the men-folk agreed. "Any -other English woman at the station?" he inquired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy told him there was Ann Jamblin, but did not -think the present moment the right one in which to -expatiate on the irritating side of Ann's disposition. -Moreover now that she was going back to England, -why run down Ann? If Ann stayed behind, as she -was convinced she would do, she might be a great -comfort to John. "Don't think it odd of me," finished -Lucy, "if when we reach the station I go straight to -my house and to bed. I feel really too much shaken -to take part in any discussion. I would much sooner -you settled everything with John. I'm sure he won't -oppose my going."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Brentham reached Hangodi he was introduced -to Ann, who listened to his polite phrases rather -impatiently and seemed a little incredulous about any -danger from Arab attacks. What exercised her mind, -she said frankly, was how to keep the hundred men of -his caravan from too close contact with her twenty or -thirty maidens who lived in—what it was hoped -was—"maiden meditation, fancy free," within the -stockaded boundaries of the Mission Station. The -local young manhood of the near-by Ulunga villages -was supposed to stand too much in awe of Ann and -to obey too strictly their chief's prohibition of -interference with the young women of the Mission to annoy -them with any amorous advances; but already Ann -thought she had seen bold glances cast at her pupils—whom -she was training to be Christian wives of Christian -husbands—by the love-famished stalwarts of the -caravan; and a coy recognition of this admiration on -the part of the plump "Big-geru." To ease her -apprehensions the men were soon all drafted off to billets -in the native villages a mile away. To Brentham and -his personal servants were alotted the Boys' School -and the Chapel for their accommodation, the Consul -being told that under all the circumstances of his visit -there could be no thought of sacrilege in his using the -House of God as a dwelling-place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Brentham had told them as soon as he arrived that he -was charged with instructions to escort all the white -</span><em class="italics">personnel</em><span> of Hangodi to some safe place on the coast -whilst this war between Arabs and Germans was going -on. He had started from Medinat-al-barkah and had -with great difficulty and by making the utmost use of -the British flag and of the presence of British war -vessels off the coast, pushed his way past the insurgent -Arabs and Waswahili that were attacking the German -strongholds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By forced marches he had reached the mission -stations of Uluguru and Usagara, and had advised the -retreat of the older men and all the white women -towards the Kilwa coast, not at present in revolt. He -left them still undecided whether or not to take his -advice, but he had furnished them with a reinforcement -of porters and arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no time to lose, so he was now hurrying -on to Ulunga and Ugogo to put the same proposition -before the members of the East African Mission, -except that the safest route to the coast must now be a -great detour towards Kilimanjaro.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whatever the men decided to do, the women should -at any rate come away with him. He would proceed -westward and try to pick up the Stotts; then with his -stout-hearted Wanyamwezi soldier-porters they would -all find a way round the routes and villages dominated -by the Arabs and Wangwana[#] and reach the coast at -Mvita, where there was a British Consulate and where -British gunboats were lying off the Arab town. But -time was precious. Already he had heard that bands -of plundering Wangwana and Ruga-ruga[#] were -approaching Ugogo from the west.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] Wangwana was the general term in the East African interior -by which the "Black Arabs," the Muhammadan Arabized -negroes, were known.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] Ruga-ruga was the name given to war-like negroes—not -necessarily Muhammadans, armed by the Arabs with flint-lock -guns and sent to raid and ravish those tribes which rebelled -against the slave-traders.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"How long can you give us?" said the anguished -John, torn between his sense of duty regarding his wife -and his extreme reluctance to abandon his Mission -Station to certain destruction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, not more than forty-eight hours."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Brethren," said John, "we must meet in conference -and decide this. Sister Lucy has retired to bed—I -advised her to do so. She has left it to me to -settle what she had better do. But for the rest of us, -let us meet after supper in the mess house and talk it -over. You, sir," he said, to the worn and -weary-looking Brentham—who, whatever he might appear -in Lucy's eyes as paladin and parfit gentill knight, was -streaked with black and brown after having ridden and -walked through the charred herbage of the burnt plains -still smoking with their dry-season bush fires—"You, -sir, would like a rest and a wash and a meal. Shall I -show you your quarters?..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the little party met in conclave, how unreal -the threat of war and violence seemed! The open -square of the station was bathed in silver moonlight -from a moon three-quarters full; there was the distant -twanging of a native guitar played by some musical -porter; a village dog sent up a complacent howl or two; -a goat-sucker churred; a laugh came from the -Big-geru's quarters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John, not without a hope the Consul might be -exaggerating their danger, said: "Brethren and Sister -Jamblin, each of you shall speak in turn, but as I am -regarded as your leader I will give my opinion first. I -have decided that my wife shall leave with the Consul -for the coast, perhaps even for England, unless she -recovers her health and things quiet down. Cruelly -hard as it is for me to part with her, I feel it is the -right thing to do. As for me, it is also the right thing -that I should stop here till all danger is over and my -place can be taken by some one else. Sister Jamblin -must go with Lucy." (Ann murmured she would do -nothing of the kind.) "Yes, Ann; I must insist. -Lucy could not possibly travel alone—it is not to be -thought of...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Ann</em><span>: "Why, she can take Halima——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I say," continued John, wiping the perspiration -from his heated face, "it is not to be thought of. As -an unmarried woman, Ann, you could not remain here -with us men——" (Ann: "Pooh, nonsense!") -"Supposing we were really attacked by the Arabs and -we men were killed, I dare not think what might be -your fate! Brother Bayley, what do you say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Bayley</em><span>: "Why, that I'll stay with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Anderson</em><span>: "And I say the same. You've both -spoken like jolly good Englishmen. And—er—let's -trust in the Lord, brethren. </span><em class="italics">He'll</em><span> see us through, -He won't leave His servants in the lurch. To think -of all the work we've put into this place and all the -money what's been spent on it! What are we going -to do with our trade goods if we cut and run? The -Consul can't load himself up with them—and our -ivory and gum copal..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Brentham</em><span>: "I might mention here I can only spare -about twenty-five porters for the whole five of you. -We must travel as lightly as possible, especially if the -Stotts want help. They have young children, I believe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Anderson</em><span>: "Then I vote we stop. Let the women -go. It wouldn't be right to expose them to the risk.... -Ann, what do you say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Ann</em><span>: "I say this. Let Sister Baines go to the -coast. She's always ailing and would only be a drag -on us if we were hard-pressed. But for my part I -stay with the men, at any rate till things have calmed -down. </span><em class="italics">I'm</em><span> not afraid. I'll soon learn to handle a -rifle, and I'm pretty good at dressing wounds. And -there's my class of girls. It'd pretty nigh break my -heart if I went away and they came to grief after all -that training I've given them—to make them good -wives some day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">John</em><span> (shortly and decidedly): "You can't remain. -I've already told you why. In this matter you must -bow to my authority. Lucy in any case is too ill to -stay here—under these circumstances—and it is -common humanity that you should not let her travel -alone to the coast. When our anxiety is over, you and -she can come back...." (Ann: "Thank you for -nothing!") "Well, sir, you shall know our definite -decision in the morning. Meantime you must be tired, -very tired indeed. We thank you heartily for coming -to our assistance. I'm sure you'd like now to retire." -(Brentham withdraws.) "Brethren, before we separate -let us put our case before God, that He may guide -us aright...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next morning the decisive answer tendered to -the Consul was that the men would remain and defend -their station. Sisters Baines and Jamblin should -return to the coast with Consul Brentham.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy forgot all about her anæmia and weak back -and tendency to dizziness in an excited packing up of -necessaries for the journey. She would not have to -take with her more than her clothes and a few invalid's -provisions and appliances. She felt terribly elated, -wildly happy at times. No thought of danger entered -her head—how could it, with Roger as escort? At -the same time, the sight of poor John's silent -grief—too deep for words—smote her with reproachfulness; -and Ann's scornful observation of her moments of -sparkling gaiety seemed sinister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The situation was eased by Brentham taking John -away for three hours to confer with Chief Mbogo and -his counsellors. Mbogo was sure he could drive off -any number of Arabs or Wangwana if they came to -attack his villages or the Mission Station. He would -send out word to the Masai. The Masai were now -his friends through the peace-making of the missionaries: -they hated the Arabs and the "coast people," -and said they would side with the Whites. At the -same time he accepted gratefully Brentham's present -of ten Snider rifles and two loads of ammunition. -Another ten rifles and a thousand rounds of ammunition -were added to the armoury of the Mission Station, as -well as two revolvers, one of which Ann took over, -for her own defence on the road or that of her "Big-geru."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Brentham also tendered some expert advice to the -Chief on the subject of entrenchments round his -stronghold. The Mission Station already possessed -a pretty strong stockade and a moat outside it. A few -years previously attacks from any quarter might be -expected—Muhammadan slave-traders, impulsive -Masai, thievish Wagogo. If the first rush could be -checked the attack was seldom persisted in.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Consul's </span><em class="italics">safari</em><span> as it passed down the western -slopes of the Ulunga Hills[#] must have looked quite -imposing to the natives who watched its departure -behind their dracæna and euphorbia hedges. First -marched Brentham himself with a stout staff and with -his gun-carrier at his heels. Then came the caravan -headman and guide, the Mwinyi-mpara or Kiongozi, -as he was styled. He carried a small British ensign -and was followed by twenty-five armed porters with -Brentham's personal loads, each, however, with a -Snider rifle and a neat uniform of cotton vest and -breeches. Next followed Ann Jamblin, riding astride -the Consul's Maskat donkey, every now and then -glancing back on her fifteen Amazon porters, the pick -of her Big-geru class who carried their mistress's -effects in bundles on their woolly heads. Behind them -was Lucy in her machila, its long pole borne on the -shoulders of two strapping Walunga, with a relief crew -behind of four other men of fine musculature. After -that followed about fifty porters poising on their heads -the heavier baggage—bundles of tents, bedding, -water-tight tin boxes, bags of rice, bales of cloth, boxes -of beads, cases of ammunition, cooking implements. -Trotting by the side of this long file of men were two -milch goats, bleating and baaing, but thoroughly -enjoying the journey; they were intended to provide milk -for the ladies' tea. One of the two was a special pet -of Lucy's. To look after the goats was a little naked -Mgogo boy—a released slave—who ran and frolicked -with them, and kept the porters amused by his -impudent mimicry of the white people. Lastly in the -rear of the caravan was a guard of ten gunmen -without loads to embarrass their quick movements.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] Ulunga was the southern portion of a country called "Ngulu" -or "Nguru."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Brentham and his charges were bound for the Stotts' -station of Burungi, three or four days' journey—say, -fifty miles—to the west. Lucy felt already many -degrees better in health, though she thought it only -decent to conceal her returning vigour and new-found -animation. The picnic meals by the road side stimulated -her appetite; her eye took pleasure in the changes -of scenery, the new panoramas of plain and wilderness -that unfolded themselves as she was swayingly borne -along. Ann seemed sombre and preoccupied, as though -noting land-marks for after recognition. Occasionally -she pointed to this and that feature in the -landscape and asked her Big-geru for its native name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The very hot weather which closes the dry season -made itself felt, so that the start from Hangodi had -been begun in the early morning twilight, and each -succeeding morning they took to the road at 5.30. -They jogged along, with an occasional five minutes', -rest, till half-past ten or until about that time they had -found a stream valley or a water hole which contained -water not too bad for cooking purposes. Then the -caravan halted for the day in such shade as might be -found, and the march was not resumed till 5 p.m.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Owing to the brilliancy of the moonlight it might be -continued well into the night. During the long -mid-day halt, the Goanese cook, aided by Halima and -several porters and Brentham's Swahili butler, would -prepare really very creditable little meals, and after eating -the travellers would lie on unfolded deck chairs in -some piece of shade where the hard ground had been -swept clear of snakes, insects or scorpions. Brentham, -if the heat were not too scorching, might wander with -a shot-gun near by to try for the chance of a -guinea-fowl or francolin or tiny antelope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At four o'clock they had tea with goat's milk; and -at five resumed their journey. The tents were pitched -by moonlight and the beds made by the light of a -candle lantern. Toilet processes were very summary; -there was all too little water to wash in and the -travellers must just sleep in their clothes and put any ideas -of effective ablutions out of their heads till they reached -the water supply at the Stotts' station. The night -camp was hastily surrounded by a thorn hedge cut -from the acacia trees, and big fires were lighted to keep -off lions and hyenas. Blacks and whites had to sleep -in close proximity and the treasured goats and donkey -in the middle of the circle of loads.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The country they marched over—a northward -extension of the "Mkunda mkali" or "Bitter waste"—was -at first steppe-like, then rocky and rising in a series -of escarpments. Almost its only trees seemed to be -flat-topped acacias, without leafage at this season, -glistening in the blazing sun and studded with long white -thorns. The thin grass was mostly burnt; nevertheless -it was frequented by much game, and the land was -apparently devoid of human inhabitants. Brentham, -always obsessed by the fear of food scarcity, but -hardly liking to absent himself from the line of march -and his following caravan, started each morning a -few minutes ahead of the rest and walked in advance -as a pioneer, with his gun-carrier at his elbow. In this -way he sometimes brought down, close to the path, an -inquisitive Grant's gazelle or hartebeest; or a zebra -out of the many herds which closed up to espy the -distant concourse of men and then dissolved into a -cloud of dust at the report of the gun. Even at this -lean season of the year the male zebras were in good -condition. Their yellow fat and juicy, sickly-sweet -flesh delighted the hungry porters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the early morning of the fourth day, the expedition -passed a few parched native plantations and one -or two burnt huts and, as the sun rose, marched into -the irregular circle of the Stott station, across a -half-dry water-course, and found no human being to greet -it. Silence and partially burnt buildings of clay and -thatch, torn paper, vultures on the scorched trees, -broken crockery, scraps of cloth, one or two pools of -dried blood, empty cartridge-cases, and the torn -sacking and splintered boards of packing-cases.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"This is pretty ghastly, Miss Jamblin," said Brentham, -returning to the hastily-cleaned camp amid the -ruins of the Mission Station.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy, feeling she could do nothing to help and had -better not look at the caked patches of dried blood -which the porters were removing, had withdrawn -herself to a folding chair placed by Halima under the -thin shade of a fire-scorched tree. Ann was examining -the vestiges of the Stott property which the looters -had left behind: school books and primers in the -Swahili language, empty ink-pots, broken slates, enamelled -iron plates and some substantial tables of native -timber, too heavy for either the fugitives or their enemies -to carry away. Ann's white solar "topi" and white -dress were already smudged and sooted from the burnt -wood and thatch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ghastly, isn't it!" he went on. "I've just -returned from a reconnaissance in which we rounded up -three Masai youths—not warriors but the hulking -boys that attend on the spearmen. Two men in my -</span><em class="italics">safari</em><span> understand Masai and they are now trying to -make out the story these boys tell. They evidently -deny emphatically that the Stotts were killed. They -keep pointing to the north-west as the direction in -which they have gone, and say every now and then -'Irangi.' My interpreters infer that this place was -attacked about a week ago by a party of Ruga-ruga -coming from the Nyaturu country and travelling towards -the coast. They besieged the station, and killed -some of the Mission boys, but the Stotts apparently -were not hurt. They defended themselves for some -time, till a party of Masai came to their relief, and -then the Ruga-ruga and 'black' Arabs were beaten -off. Nevertheless the Stotts left the station afterwards -and went away to the north-west with the Masai -escorting them.... I want to see if I get on their tracks -or if I can find any real natives who saw the attack.... -You seem to have a head on your shoulders ... and -an influence over the natives. I'll leave all but -five of the men here under your orders. Already -they're at work reconstructing the 'boma.' I propose -skirmishing around and finding out also if the Arabs -and Ruga-ruga are still in the neighbourhood. I'll be -back before dark...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Ann</em><span>: "You'd much better give up such a wild-goose -chase as looking for the Stotts. Make for Kilimanjaro -and the Mvita coast with Lucy. We've got -mission stations in Taita and at Jomvu, near Mvita, -where you could place her in comparative safety. I'd -much rather return to Hangodi instead of floundering -about in the wilderness, mad with thirst and unable to -wash. I'm only a drag on you with my women -porters whom your men can't leave alone—I daren't take -my eyes off them. Lucy'll soon be well enough to -ride your donkey—which I'm at present using. If -the Arabs haven't plundered the Wagogo or if there -are Masai bands in the neighbourhood you could easily -buy a few donkeys—Masai breed, you know. -They're quickly broken in to riding, especially with -your Maskat donkey to show 'em how. And then -you could travel much quicker. I don't think you'll -have trouble with the Arabs farther north. It's a -Masai country, and the Masai and the Muhammadans -are at daggers drawn...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Brentham</em><span> (hesitating): "No. I don't think I -ought to let you go ... I ..." (His thoughts were -saying: "</span><em class="italics">Let</em><span> her go. She's a tiresome termagant, -she, with her fifteen women porters who'll cause the -deuce-and-all of a lot of trouble before we've gone far. -It would be lovely to have a long journey back to the -coast with Lucy. </span><em class="italics">Of course</em><span> I'd respect her. I should -simply treat her as a sister" ... and his pulses -quickened)....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Ann</em><span>: "</span><em class="italics">Let</em><span> me go? I'm my own mistress and not -going to be ordered about by anybody. If I choose -to go back, I'll go, even if I have to walk all the way. -But there! I don't want to be tiresome. You go off -on your prospecting and leave Lucy in my charge. I'll -promise not to do a bolt till you return—and -whenever I promise, I keep my promise."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>(Lucy came up at this juncture and was told rather -impatiently by Ann the dilemma in which the three of -them were placed.) Captain Brentham turned away, -called up his headman, gave him instructions, and -finally went off with five gunmen and the three Masai -youths. These were put in a good humour by being -crammed with broiled meat and rice, the latter a food -they had never tasted before, but accepted without -demur at the hands of the godlike white man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann, thus placed in authority, set to work to carry -out her plans. She had the interior of the station -circle cleaned as much as possible of half-burnt house -material, and gathered together what remained in the -ruins of books, clothes, trade goods. The looting had -evidently been very hurried, and no doubt the Stotts -had conveyed some things with them on their retreat. -Lucy, sharply ordered by Ann not to over-exert herself, -sat in the shade in a deck chair, very apprehensive -as to the future and worried that Roger should have -gone away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The news that white people were back at Burungi—as -this station was called—penetrated quickly -through this seemingly deserted region. So often in -Africa there occurs this wireless telegraphy, really due -perhaps to the lurking here and there in the brush and -herbage of invisible natives, observing what goes on -and bounding away noiselessly to carry the news to -other prowlers. In the afternoon when Ann within -the thorn enclosure had made things a little more tidy -and presentable there appeared in the middle distance -numbers of Wagogo warriors gazing at the new -arrivals with kindly neutrality, occasionally calling out -friendly, deprecatory greetings. Encouraged by Ann's -answering shouts in Kagulu they approached the -"boma," and even ventured within the camp enclosure, -squatting then on their heels to exchange information. -Their confidence was sealed by little gifts of tobacco. -The attack on the Mission Station was described. The -white people had been taken by surprise, but had held -their own till the Wagogo and Masai came to their -assistance. The Ruga-ruga shot fire-arrows in among -the thatched roofs and set fire to some of the houses. -They even broke in through one part of the "boma," -but three of them were killed by the white man's people.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fight had lasted half-a-day and one day. Then -the Wangwana had drawn off—to the south. Two -days more and the white people had gone—there were -the white man—"Sitoto," they called him—and the -white woman chief—she was a great "doctor"—and -three white children ... they had all gone off with -a party of the Masai—to the north somewhere. The -Masai had sold them donkeys to ride. Some Wagogo -had gone with them. It was perhaps four days since -they went away. No! the Wagogo had </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> plundered -the white man's place. They were frightened to come -there because of the white man's "medicine." ...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then how did you get that?" said Ann, pointing -to a soiled white petticoat which an elderly man wore -over one shoulder and across his chest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That? That had been given him by the white -woman herself for running to summon the Masai." ...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"See here," said Ann, in fragmentary Kagulu. -"You've got donkeys—Masai donkeys—among you. -The Ruga-ruga have not raided </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>. You bring me -here </span><em class="italics">three good strong donkeys</em><span> and I will buy them -for a good price: white cloth, brass rings, iron wire, -red cloth and gunpowder."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They conferred among themselves and thought they -might produce three donkeys—for a price.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then fetch them—</span><em class="italics">at once</em><span>. Otherwise the -big white man, the great chief of all the white men on -the coast, the Balozi, will believe you helped to plunder -this station and make you give up the property you've -stolen." ...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger returned late that evening in brilliant -moonlight to find that Ann had purchased with his trade -goods three good stout grey asses with broad shoulder -stripes. One she reserved for herself, the other two -she transferred to Brentham. They would serve for -him to ride and also provide his Goanese cook with a -mount. [This Portuguese-Indian was a very poor -marcher and much inclined to fever; yet in some ways -the second most important person of the caravan, -decent cooking being such an enormous help to good -health in Africa.] Lucy, who had grown much -stronger for this change and excitement, could ride the -Maskat donkey and her hammock men could return -to Hangodi with some of Ann's loads.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann would further borrow five of Brentham's -gun-men to escort her and her fifteen women-porters—her -Big-geru—back to Hangodi. She had also engaged -at extravagant pay a dozen of the Wagogo, fleet of -foot and brave hunters. These, armed with their -long-bladed spears, would guide and precede her little party, -scaring away the wild beasts by their cries. Lions -and rhinoceroses were distinctly a danger to be -reckoned with.... By forced marching, especially at -night, Ann would be back at Hangodi in two days. -It was therefore unwise to miss a single moonlight -night as the moon would soon be on the wane. The -Ruga-ruga and Wangwana never attacked at night, and -if they were anywhere in the neighbourhood—which -the Wagogo scouts would soon find out—the party -would hide in the daylight hours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meantime Brentham and Lucy could remain encamped -at Burungi awaiting the return of Ann's escort. -If the message was "All's well," they could start off -for the coast by the roundabout northern route....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You seem to be a very capable woman," said -Brentham, "as well as being an obstinate one. I agree -to your plan, though I have a presentiment I may -regret it. If you change your mind and come back -I shan't reproach you for being fickle. And besides, -you may bring us later news. I must in any case -stay here for a few days to prepare for the big march. -I must shoot game and have a lot of 'biltong'[#] made -for the men...."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] Strips of lean meat dried in the sun and thus -preserved for a considerable time in dry weather.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"I'm glad you agree," said Ann. "I know I shall -be in the right place at Hangodi—for many reasons. -As it is, I've already had an idea. The Stotts seem -to have been saved by the Masai. The Masai that -our Walunga people call 'Wahumba' are on good -terms with us. We brought about peace between them -and Mbogo. They come to our station to trade and -we have cured several of their wounded men from bad -lion bites. We will send messengers to the Humba -Masai asking for a large war party of spearmen to -await down below in the plains any attack by the -Arabs. I think the mere knowledge the Masai are -there will keep the Arabs from coming near Ulunga."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the next morning Ann rode off at five o'clock -astride her Masai donkey, on which some makeshift -arrangement of padded cloths had been tied by way of -saddle. Her buxom Big-geru hoisted their light loads -and struck up a Moody and Sankey hymn translated -by Ann into Kagulu. The grinning Wanyamwezi -gunmen brought up the rear, and the wild, unclothed -Wagogo with fantastic ostrich feather or zebra-mane -head-dresses dashed on ahead, whooping and leaping -and shouting their determination to scare away the -beasts of the field from the white woman-chief who -talked like a man.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-happy-valley"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE HAPPY VALLEY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Roger, left alone with Lucy, resolved he would -"do the right thing," clenched his teeth so to -speak on the vow. He was the more fiercely -determined to act honourably because he felt himself to be -fighting against her own weakness of fibre, against her -overpowering inclination as well as his own. Her -attractiveness for him had greatly increased since the -renewal of their comradeship. In the early days of the -acquaintance, though her prettiness and virginal charm -were appealing, she had the naïveté and insipidity of an -inexperienced girl which soon weary a man of the -world who tires of the relation between master and -pupil. Now she was a married woman; tempered, -rendered more subtle by suffering and experience of -mankind, who was readier to express her feelings -through her eyes and her reticence than by direct -speech. She talked less unreflectingly, and the things -she said were more due to her own observation and -reasoning than second-hand opinions picked up from -other people.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann, in the week in which he had seen the two -women together, had been just the right foil to throw -up Lucy's charming femininity, her refinement in dress -and appearance and in the tones of her voice. Ann -by contrast was an impudent self-assertive virago with -the worth at best of a good drudge. After a year and -a half's absence from Europe he made this rediscovery -of Lucy, set against a background of Savage Africa—coarse -landscapes, jagged rocks, unwieldy trees, bush -conflagrations, naked men, wild beasts just kept at bay. -(On moonlight nights they could actually descry the -grey-white forms of lions and hyenas padding -noiselessly round the precincts of their boma.) These -violent incongruities made her seem to him a being of -exquisite refinement and yet of physical charm. -Returning health, intense happiness, the dawning hope -of a bright future were dispelling the anæmia and -giving back to her face and neck the tinted white of a -healthy skin, warmed in tone by a good circulation. -There was a sparkle of animation in her violet eyes -and a new lustre in her brown gold hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It would be a good thing for both, he felt, if he -found the Stotts as soon as possible and induced them -to join company in a march to the coast. His -career—Yes, he must remember that. His career above all -things. He must not be turned aside from his great -ambitions by any woman. Yet he had missed fire over -the Unguja appointment and wanted consolation -elsewhere. It was rather weary </span><em class="italics">always</em><span> to be at work, in -an office, or in the field: never to settle down to a -honeymoon and the joys of domesticity. Perhaps he -should have taken another line—the Colonial Office -and administrative work, not the Foreign Office and -adventurous diplomacy in Savage Africa.... He -wanted to explore, create, and then administer a great -African Empire, tasks infinitely above the mean -capacity of a Godfrey Dewburn or a Spencer Bazzard. -Why could he not now—straight away—plunge into -the vast unknown which lay before him to the north, -to the north-west? Where had Stanley disappeared -to? What had become of Emin? What was happening -in Uganda since the death of Mutesa? What -unsolved mysteries lay west of the Victoria Nyanza, -north of Tanganyika, south of the Bahr-al-ghazal? -Should he take Lucy to his heart, throw conventions -and commissions to the winds, and start away with her -on a wonderful journey of discovery, leaving the world -and the Rev. John Baines to say what they liked, and -covering his private treachery by his amazing discoveries?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nonsense! Why, Queen Victoria would never -overlook this act of adultery. He might discover -twenty lakes and name them all after princes of her -family or annex gold mines and pipes of diamonds -and she would refuse the accolade, and Society at her -bidding would close its ranks against the dishonoured -missionary's wife. Besides, he had barely enough -trade goods with which to pay his way back to the -coast, especially by a round-about route. The -African soon looks coldly on the god-like white man if he -has no more beads, cloth, copper wire, knives, and -gun-caps with which to pay road dues, "customs" or -good-will presents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And his armed porters? They were only engaged -for a six-months' </span><em class="italics">safari</em><span>. They must be fed and paid -or they would desert.... He must put all this -nonsense out of his head—take a few pills, a little -bromide—tire himself out every day big game shooting -or scouting till the men sent with Ann Jamblin -returned with their news.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If he took all this exercise, he would not lie awake -at night in his hot tent, under his mosquito curtain -longing, aching to go to Lucy's quarters and say, "I -love you: let us fight against it no longer. We may -all be dead a month hence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To guard against such impulses he had insisted on -Halima's sleeping on an Unguja mat in her mistress's -tent, and had surrounded the tent with a square of -reed fence which gave her a greater degree of privacy -than the wretched tent afforded. Within this there -was space for a bathroom and a "sitting-room," a -shaded retreat to which she could retire for a siesta or -a confabulation with Halima who was still giving -instruction in Swahili. Outside this "harim"—as -his men who constructed it certainly took it to -be—there was a "baraza" common to them both: a -thatched shelter open all round. Here the camp table -was placed for meals.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger determined to shut Lucy out of his thoughts -as much as possible, to think only for the day, for the -dangers by which they were surrounded, the hundred -risks which attended their ever getting back to -civilization.... As soon as they could reach the coast he -would send Lucy to England and return to his -Consulate at Medinat-al-barkah.... Of course, should -John Baines die of fever—missionaries often -did—or—if—he were killed? ... Suppose his station -really was attacked...? But then, again, such -thoughts as these were of the order of David's when -he hankered after Bathsheba....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then Lucy, again, Lucy might die of fever—she -scarcely seemed cut out for an African life, which -is why he had begun pitying her.....</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"I've had perfectly splendid sport to-day," said -Roger, standing before Lucy's "baraza" where the -camp table was laid for tea. "I've shot a rhino—they're -cutting it up now—two hartebeests, and two -impala. That'll give us all the 'biltong' we can carry. -I'm filthily dirty, as you can see—ash and charcoal -from the burnt bush, and sweat—God! It </span><em class="italics">has</em><span> been -sweltering!—and the run after that—and </span><em class="italics">from</em><span> -that—rhino! No. I'm not wounded—there's no -need for emotion—but the rhino as he charged—and -</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> doubled—squirted blood over me from his -nostrils—I must look like a fighting chimney sweep—I'll -go and have a bath and then you shall give me tea."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be long," said Lucy. "There's </span><em class="italics">such</em><span> lots to -talk about. Your men have come back from Hangodi -with a note to me from John! He says so far 'all's -well.' And two Masai, Halima says, are waiting to -see you. They keep saying 'Sitoto,' which means, I -suppose, some news about the Stotts' whereabouts. -</span><em class="italics">How</em><span> exciting it's all getting. I </span><em class="italics">am</em><span> enjoying it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Halima" (to her maid): "Waambia watu wa -mpishi tunataka chai, </span><em class="italics">marra</em><span> moja!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Four days afterwards, everything being ready for -the fresh venture into the unknown, loads lightened -and tightened, and the biltong sufficiently dry to be -tied on top of the loads (imparting a disagreeable smell -of a butcher's shop to the caravan as it passed in single -file), they set out with Masai guides to find the Stotts. -They travelled over the water-parting from the rivers -flowing to the Indian Ocean to those that ended in -vague marshes and bitter lakes. They climbed great -escarpments and descended into broad valleys between -high cliffs and found themselves amongst strange -peoples, chiefly pastoral, keepers of great herds of sleek, -humped cattle, of dwarf African goats and fat-tailed -sheep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The first of these, the Warangi, were fortunately -allied in speech to the Wagogo—so could be communicated -with. They were a truculent lot, inclined to -make trouble with strangers. They seemed on this -occasion, however, too much excited over affairs of -their own to be much interested in the arrival of white -folk, whom they had probably never seen before except -in the form of pale-faced Arabs. They replied briefly -that a white man and woman and their children had -preceded Brentham's party by a few days—when the -moon was still at the full. They were accompanied -by a band of Masai with whom the Warangi were -friends....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are there any Arabs here?" asked Brentham -through his interpreter. "Waalabu?" No! They -came sometimes to buy ivory, but on their last visit -they had tried to carry off some Rangi people as slaves, -and if they showed their faces again in Burangi, they -would be driven away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then what are you all so excited about?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They replied it was an affair of their clan, of the -people who lived in these villages. Their young -married men had gone out this dry season to kill elephants -as was their custom, but had returned after three -months with no luck at all: hardly a tusk worth looking -at, very little meat, and two men killed by the elephants. -There could be but one explanation for this. Their -wives had been unfaithful to them as soon as their -backs were turned. It was well known that if a wife -and husband were separated and the wife was unfaithful, -a misfortune at once fell on the husband. Consequently -the custom of their tribe in such cases was to -burn the guilty women on large pyres of brushwood. -These pyres were now finished—the white man could -see them there along the bank of the river.... -Presently the adulterous ladies whose husbands had -returned from the luckless elephant-shoot would be led -out, tied to the brushwood bundles, and set on fire. -He might stay and witness the imposing spectacle if -he chose. They learnt that he too was accompanied -by a wife—a white woman. It might be a moral -lesson to her—if white women were ever unfaithful....</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Roger begged the Warangi to spare the women this -time. By and bye he would come back to them and -explain the whole mystery of luck in sport and the -ensuring of an accurate aim, perhaps give them a -"medicine," to produce the result they wanted. But -meantime he assured them that if they burnt so much -as one woman's little finger a terrible curse would fall -on the land.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy asked what all this talk was about, and he -replied: "Oh, nothing very important—big game -shooting." She was preoccupied with pleasanter -subjects, the greater coolness of the air now that they had -ascended to a higher level, the new green grass of -the coming spring, and her own greatly improved -health....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If all goes well," said Roger, "we ought to reach -the place where the Stotts are in two long days' -march."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall we? I'm rather sorry, as though something -was going to break our delicious dream. I should like -to go on and on like this for a year...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what about my official duties? I, too, am -enjoying this to the full, but I am worried about -whether I have done the right thing.... With a -desire to please every one all round I sometimes fancy I -have embarked on a perilous adventure.... However -we must hope for the best. Of course all this is -absolutely new ground. I ought to be earning a -Geographical medal; instead of which I shall only get an -official rebuke.... Did you notice that we seem to -have entered a new watershed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Lucy</em><span>: "Although I taught Geography at school, I -never really understood what a 'watershed' was. -What is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "I suppose it means the area in which all -the waters flow to the same receptacle—a sea, a lake, -a marsh. We've just left a river which was flowing -steadily to the south, to some unknown end. We rode -up a small rise, and now, see, the gathering streams are -all flowing northwards. The Masai say these brooks -unite farther on to form a river which ends in a lake. -Think of </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>, Lucy! We shall discover a new lake! -It ought to be called 'Lake Lucy.'..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Lucy</em><span> (blushing): "Oh no, indeed, I should feel -quite uncomfortable if I were made so prominent.... -But the country seems to get lovelier and lovelier...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The new streams to which Roger referred irrigated -a broad and even expanse of fertile plain sloping gently -to the north, and seeming to terminate at the base of -gigantic cliffs or lofty mountains which surrounded -this valley on three sides. They could only make out -dimly the forms of the highest mountains because of -the dry-season haze, but they seemed like the craters -of volcanoes. Riding to the top of an isolated hillock -Roger obtained confirmation of the guides' story. The -valley ended in a lake of respectable size.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The grassy flats between the converging rivulets -swarmed with big game which showed comparatively -little fear of man and might be seen grazing with herds -of the natives' cattle. A succession of exclamations, -half wonderment, half fear, came from Lucy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! ... I ... </span><em class="italics">say</em><span>! ... I thought those were -great tree trunks till they moved, but ... they're..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They're </span><em class="italics">giraffes</em><span>, by Jove! I wonder whether I -ought to bring one down? Better not ... might -delay us ... and I don't know how the natives 'ud take -it...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A herd of six or seven stately giraffes suspended -their browsing on the upper branches of an acacia tree, -and gazed at them with their liquid eyes, flicking their -satiny bodies with tails that terminated in large black -tassels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O-oh!'" came from Lucy, as she reined in her -donkey. "</span><em class="italics">Look</em><span> at those things over there! Like houses -or great rocks, but they're moving too!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She pointed with her riding whip to some grey bulks -in the middle distance which, as they swished through -the herbage, showed here and there a gleam of polished -tusks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shoot! Master, shoot!" exclaimed the Wanyamwezi.... -"Elephants, Master!" But Roger called -for silence and held his hand. Supposing the elephants -charged down on Lucy? And then he did not know -how the sounds of guns would be received in this new -country, what the unknown natives might think, and -lastly, perhaps there was beginning to dawn on him an -appreciation of what this spectacle meant: a piece of -absolutely unspoiled Africa, not yet ravaged by the -white man or the native hunter, armed with the white -man's weapons. His caravan had plenty of dried meat. -They should not break the charm of the Happy Valley—the -phrase came suddenly into his mind, some dim -remembrance of Dr. Samuel Johnson's ponderous romance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they advanced northwards the scenes grew more -idyllic. Herds of gnus, hartebeests, elands, and zebras, -intermingled with reed buck and impala, alternately -stared in immobility, then dashed off in clouds of -yellow dust, and once more stood at gaze. Gazelles with -glossy black, annulated horns and bodies brilliant in -colour—golden-red, black-banded, and snowy-white -below—cropped the turf a few yards from the faintly -marked track which the caravan was following; and -though the bucks lifted their heads to observe this -advancing file of human beings they scarcely moved away -more than a few yards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Valley was not entirely given up to wild life, -though it seemed likely that it was only used by man -as a pasture ground, and that he preferred the higher -country, the hillocks on either side of the plain, for his -habitations, out of the way of floods and swamps. But -large herds of cattle browsed among antelopes and -zebra and were watched over by herdsmen who -displayed singularly little curiosity over this first invasion -of the Happy Valley by the white man. The Stotts -who had preceded Roger and Lucy seemed to have -satisfied their curiosity, once and for all. These -cattle-tenders were different in physical type to the ordinary -Bantu Negro. They were tall; gracefully, slenderly -built; and reminded Brentham of Somalis, though their -head-hair was close-cropped. Such women as were -met showed no sign of fear. They were clad in ample -garments of dressed leather. But the men had all the -gallant nakedness of the Masai—a skin cape over the -shoulders, otherwise only ivory arm-rings and -metal-chain necklaces.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Masai guides occasionally plucked handfuls of -grass and exhibited them to the groups of herdsmen as -a testimony to the peaceful intentions of the white -man's caravan. This voucher was further confirmed -by the returning band of Masai who had escorted the -Stotts to this Arcadia and were now returning to -northern Nguru. They exchanged musical salutations with -Roger's guides and told them the "Sitoto" were -camped in a village one day's further journey to the -north, near the shores of the lake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all right," said Roger, his mind greatly -relieved. "Then let's give our </span><em class="italics">safari</em><span> a half-holiday -and take things easy. We'll pitch our camp on that -knoll. How delightful is this short green turf after -the miles and miles of burnt grass we've passed -through. The spring has begun here a month earlier -than in the lower-lying country. I expect the high -mountains to the north have attracted the rains, though -it's only October. Have you noticed, also, since we -entered this valley we've had no mosquitoes? I -wonder why? Something p'raps they don't like in the -water, or not enough long grass?..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As soon as the camp was finished, the pastoral people -brought them rich, sweet milk for sale, in tightly-woven -grass receptacles, in calabashes, or clay pots. -Sometimes this milk had a smoky taste from the rough -methods by which the milk pots were cleansed. But it was -as sweet as a nut and seemed to Lucy, who had long -been deprived of milk, except doled out in small quantities -for tea, incomparably delicious as a thirst-quencher. -And these Egyptian-like people—so often showing a -Pharaonic profile and speaking a language which Roger -afterwards declared not very far removed from Gala—also -traded in honey, honey flavoured with the scent -of the acacia blossoms, appearing now as golden fluff -on the awakening trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next day, the seventh since they left Burungi, -Brentham's caravan came into full view of the lake, its -shores lined with dense ranks of pinkish-white -flamingoes. To the south-east was a native village of long, -continuous "tembe" houses, arranged more or less in -parallelograms, or hollow squares, enclosing for each -family or group a turfy space where the cattle passed -the night and family life was carried on in the open -air and in security.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One of these enclosures had evidently been given -over to the Stotts for a temporary home. And from -out of it Mr. and Mrs. Stott might be descried, -hurrying to meet the caravan. Before they could arrive, -Roger halted his men and surveyed the whole scene -before him from a grassy mound where he thought to -pitch his camp. Projecting mountain buttresses shut -in the valley and the lake, west, north and east. West -and north these mountains almost overhung the flat -lake shores in an abrupt escarpment, blue, without -details, in the afternoon shadow. To the east of the lake, -though there were great heights and in the north-east -a hint of giant summits capped with snow, the rise was -not so abrupt, more broken, and the rocks more arid, -but vivid and variegated in colour—-red, yellow, -greenish grey, purple black and creamy white. The -mountains on the west were diversified with combes -and glens, were carved, moulded, seamed with -watercourses; embroidered and mantled with dark green -forests. Where the lake was deep its waters were a -pure cobalt, but its shallows were whitish-green with -salt or soda, and the level shores from which the waters -had retreated were greyish white, probably with the -guano of the countless flamingoes, who had their -nesting-stools some distance back from the water's edge. -Herds of cattle browsed peacefully on the green -water-meadows of the river-delta; nearer at hand flocks of -black and white sheep mingled with half-shy gazelles -of golden brown. Great Secretary birds—grey, -black, and white—stalked through the herbage -looking for snakes and lizards, knowing no fear of man in -their honourable calling. Blue whorls of smoke arose -from the fishermen's fires on the lake shore, where fish -was being smoked on wooden frames. All this was -irradiated by the yellow light of the westering sun. -Before, the Stotts could reach them and break their -silence of contentment, Roger turned to Lucy and said: -"This </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> the Happy Valley!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Stotts were of course full of questions and -wonderment. Mr. Stott was a middle-aged man of -strong build, honest hazel eyes, clipped beard, tanned -face and generally pleasing appearance. He had never -before met either Lucy or Brentham, so Mrs. Stott had -to make the introductions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After these surprised and joyous greetings, an -adjournment took place to the Stotts' quarters. -Although they had only been about a week established -here, in a portion of the village of Mwada lent them -by the native chief, the practical and never defeated -Stotts—-the born colonists, the realized Swiss Family -Robinson—had already made themselves a new home -in the wilderness. They had swept out and cleaned -the "tembes," the continuous huts of wattle and daub, -divided into many compartments, which enclosed the -turfy square; and in the centre of their "compound" -had erected a circular building of stout palm poles and -grass that covered a swept space of ground. In the -middle of this they had fashioned a table of reed-bundles -fastened to upright posts and had manufactured -rough forms and stools of hyphaene palm trunks. -This was their "baraza" or reception-room, their -eating-house, and shaded playground for their hardy -children. Within the enclosed ground they kept their -milch goats, sheep, and riding donkeys. Of these they -had quite a troop, purchased from the Masai. These -asses had proved most useful as beasts of burden for -the transport of their loads, so that they almost -managed without human porterage. Mr. Stott had -constructed very practical pack saddles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come along to our baraza," said genial Mrs. Stott. -"Let us try and make you up some kind of a meal -before we begin talking."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger gave a few directions about his own camping, -a quarter of a mile distant, and then joined Lucy and -the Stotts, who were walking to "our new mission -station," as Mrs. Stott called it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know we are </span><em class="italics">never</em><span> down-hearted; we </span><em class="italics">know</em><span> -God orders everything for the best! I am sure He -thought we were settling down too comfortably among -the Wagogo, and so gave us a hint to press farther into -the interior. </span><em class="italics">Of course</em><span>, when things quiet down: for -either the Germans or the English </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> conquer East -Africa: it would be sickening to leave the Arabs and -Ruga-ruga in control—we shall build up again our -Burungi station and put capable people in charge of it, -people who'll get on well with the Wagogo.... They -want a bit of managing. You see how well it would -suit as a halt on the way to this wonderful -country—What do you call it? 'The Happy Valley'? Yes, -</span><em class="italics">that</em><span> shall be its name. </span><em class="italics">How</em><span> the Lord's ways are </span><em class="italics">past</em><span> -finding out! I felt </span><em class="italics">so</em><span> sick at heart when we were -leaving Burungi.... I'll tell you how it all happened. -Our Masai friends had beaten off the Ruga-ruga, but -the Wagogo thought they intended to return, probably -with real Arabs in command. My husband is obliged -to shoot game; otherwise we couldn't live, much less -feed our people. They raided us chiefly for arms and -ammunition.... We beat them off, but the Wagogo -thought they would be sure to return—much stronger -next time. So after thinking it over and putting our -case before God in prayer we decided that night after -the attack ceased, to spend the hours of darkness -packing. The next morning we bought ten more donkeys -from the Masai, besides the ten we had already, loaded -them up and then said to our Masai friends—my -husband speaks Masai pretty well: 'Now, can you -guide us to some country where we can be safe from -the Lajomba—their name for the Arabs—for a -time?' And they led us here ... let us say, rather, -they were God's agents in leading us here. Isn't this -a </span><em class="italics">wonderful</em><span> country? We have never seen the like. -Somehow we feel so </span><em class="italics">safe</em><span> here. You can't think of any -enemy coming over those high mountains—one of -them has snow on the summit—or over the cliffs. -They can only come up the river valley. And to do -that they must fight their way through the Rangi and -Fiome peoples. The Rangi people speak a language -like Chi-gogo, and so—oddly enough—do the fisher -folk round this extraordinary lake. But the others -don't look like ordinary Negroes. They are more like -Somalis. And I can't make anything out of their -language. But although they're different to the Masai -they seem to have some kind of alliance with them, and -they received us here as friends, because the Masai -brought us. </span><em class="italics">What</em><span> a field for the Lord's work! And -to think I almost </span><em class="italics">doubted</em><span> God when He let the -Ruga-ruga attack Burungi!...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But here we are, at our temporary home, and I -must go to the cook-house and see about your meal. -You won't mind native stuff, will you? You see we've -lost most of our tinned provisions, and indeed we had -been living on the country long before the Ruga-ruga -attacked us. Like all the other missionaries of late -we've had very few caravans from the coast."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Stott led the way to the "baraza" with its -rough table of reed-bundles on a framework of sticks -and its palm trunks to sit on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Stott children were playing on the dusty turf of -the cleared ground in front of the baraza.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm afraid you'll think our little 'uns rather -uncared for," said Mr. Stott apologetically; "but my -poor wife's had too much to do in our hurried flight -and after we got here to spend much time on their -clothing or even getting them clean!" The eldest of -the three was a pretty boy with light flaxen hair and -blue eyes, very tanned of skin, very grubby of face and -hands. He wore a tattered smock and short breeches, -vestiges of a "sailor suit." On his feet were cleverly -made native sandals, as on those of his younger brother -and little sister, whose legs and feet were otherwise -naked, and the two smaller children had little on but a -yard or two of calico wound round the waist. Lucy -recognized in the youngest the solemn baby she had -seen at Unguja playing with the large cockroaches; -and said so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," replied Mr. Stott. "Afraid of nothing, -poor little mite. When the Ruga-ruga came I -hurriedly built up a sort of zariba of boxes and stones, -and put a tarpaulin over it and told the little 'uns to -keep quiet; and there they were, all through the -fighting. Mother and I would go and give 'em food every -now and again, and Edgar here"—pointing to the -boy—"'ud say, 'How's the fight going, Daddy?' And -Edgar's bin a rare good boy since we came here, -helping to tie these bundles of reeds and making -himself useful. Our eldest's at home in Ireland with her -grandmother—for her education. The next one we -buried years ago in the Nguru country, and the very -youngest—bless her—died of infantile diarrhoea last -March at Burungi. That accounts for the six of 'em; -and I'll lay there aren't many British children have -had such an adventurous bringing-up, 'cept the young -Livingstones and Moffats."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Stott was now spreading a wrinkled, grey-white -cloth over the reed table-top. And the children -were up on their feet helping her and a native servant -bring the meal from the cook-house to the baraza.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We're giving you just the native </span><em class="italics">ugali</em><span>—porridge, -you know," said Mrs. Stott, "but there's a lovely pot -of fresh milk from the natives' cattle. Here's some -honey in a calabash. Here are the rest of the scones -we had for breakfast. I've made you some tea—rather -weak, but it is so precious. And whilst you're -tackling </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> I'm going to fry some fish we got from -the lake this morning—bony, but very sweet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During their meal Roger and Lucy tried to give in -instalments a description of the extraordinary -circumstances which had brought them here in company. -Mrs. Stott, who had fetched her sewing so that she -might not be wasting time (Mr. Stott had excused -himself, having urgent work to do till the evening), looked -a little puzzled and not quite acquiescent over -Brentham's explanations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, children! You go now and help Brahimu -and Kagavezi. Don't get into mischief. Keep out of -the sun, don't pick up scorpions, and don't go outside -the boma.... I'm an outspoken woman, you know, -Lucy. I can't help saying I think you ought to have -stuck by your husband."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I was so </span><em class="italics">ill</em><span>, Mrs. Stott, and John </span><em class="italics">insisted</em><span> on -my going. Didn't he ... Captain Brentham?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He did really, Mrs. Stott. I had instructions to -advise all the missionaries to leave their stations and -return to the coast—indeed, I come here to you with -that message, but I suppose you won't obey it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed I won't, Captain Brentham, though I thank -you for your efforts to find us and help us. I do -indeed. But wherever my husband is, there will I be too, -unless he absolutely ordered me to go away.... And -I saw it was the will of God that I should go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well: that was what John did to me—absolutely -</span><em class="italics">ordered</em><span> me to go," said Lucy, beginning to cry. "He -ordered Ann to go with me. It isn't my fault—our -fault—that Ann has gone back, in spite of John's -</span><em class="italics">positive commands</em><span>. Ann never obeys any one. Oh -dear, oh dear! </span><em class="italics">what</em><span> should I do ... I feel if I go -back to that place I shall simply die ... and yet I -shall lose your good opinion ... if I go to the coast -with Captain Brentham...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I don't say that. I'm not one for passing -judgments on my fellow creatures. It's between them -and God. But look here, Captain Brentham: I don't -want to keep you idle. I'll be bound there's a hundred -things you want to see to in your camp. I'll keep Lucy -with me. She and I are old friends, as you know. If -you'd send over her loads and her native woman—let's -see, what was her name? I remember how she -nursed you when your poor baby came—and -went—Halima? Yes. Well, send over everything that -belongs to Lucy and her tent shall be pitched inside our -boma whilst she stays here. She and I will talk things -over a bit and then, maybe, we'll call you into consultation. -I'm sure you want to do what's best for us all. -What a </span><em class="italics">strange</em><span> place to meet in! The last time we -spoke together was in your grand Arab house at -Unguja and I was more than a bit afraid of you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Stott rose up from her sewing, walked with -Brentham to the exit from the compound, and gazed -across the outer greensward to the very blue lake, with -its whitish rim of scum or salt. In the distance the -blush-tint flamingoes flew with wings of black and -scarlet in V formations, against an azure background -of colossal mountains rising tier above tier; or, their -glistening plumage showed up more effectively against -the violet shadows of the western cliffs and wooded -gorges bordering the lake, and still more strikingly -when contrasted with the cobalt surface of the lake -itself. Other flamingoes waded into the lake, filtering -through their laminated beaks the minute organisms -evidently abundant in its water. Hundreds, perhaps -even thousands, of these birds stood in serried ranks -along the curving, diverging shores. The rear ranks -were composed of immature birds of dirty-white -plumage streaked with brown; but these were masked by -the front rows of adults, affectedly conscious of their -beauty of plumage and outline. They exhibited a -hundred mannerisms in their poses: lowered their kinky -necks to dabble in the ooze, or raised them perpendicularly -and "honked" to let the humans know they were -on their guard (though never a man in these parts -thought of harming them). Or they cleaned their -backs with rosy coils of neck, stood on one vermilion -leg and bent the other limb beneath the belly feathers. -Or they fenced at each other with decurved bills of -purple and red in make-believe petulance, and because -life-conditions were so perfect that they had nothing -whatever to grumble at.... Some Wambugwe canoes -were approaching the lake shore with fish to sell -to the white men. A considerable section of the -flamingoes rose into the sky with a display of roseate -tints against the blue ... then landed and folded their -wings in assurance of safety.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," continued Mrs. Stott, "I little thought we -should meet under circumstances like these. Aren't -those flamingoes </span><em class="italics">wonderful</em><span>? Like a revelation of -God—almost. I shall stay here if only to look after them. -</span><em class="italics">They</em><span> shall be the roses in my garden. I shan't want -any others. You see they're not afraid of man and -they don't get in man's way. They aren't good to -eat—much too fishy. And, as far as I can see, they -don't eat fish; only mud, seemingly—shrimps, -p'raps...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Consul: come again at supper-time; and if -I'm too stingy over my precious tea, at any rate I'll give -you hot milk and pancakes and honey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Left with Lucy, Mrs. Stott first took her to the -washing hut and provided the means for a good bath -and next lent her some garment of the dressing-gown -order with which to clothe herself till her luggage and -her attendant arrived.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll tell you what I am going to advise Captain -Brentham to do, Lucy," said Mrs. Stott. "Come what -may, you'll be none the worse for a good rest here. -This place is evidently far healthier than the lower -country. The Consul shall bargain with your Masai -guides to go as fast as they can back to Ulunga and -find out what has happened at Hangodi. If things are -still quiet there, the probability is they are going to -remain quiet. In that case—if your husband does not -absolutely forbid it, Captain Brentham ought to take -you back to Hangodi and leave you there. He can -then find his own way </span><em class="italics">somehow</em><span> to the place he lives -at—Medina. If the messengers come back with </span><em class="italics">bad</em><span> -news about the Arabs, or if John Baines positively -vetoes your returning, </span><em class="italics">then</em><span> all you can do is to put -yourself under the Consul's care and travel with him to -Mvita ... unless you like to stop with me and live on -country produce. I think we can—whilst you're -waiting here—get in touch with the Masai beyond the -mountains and by giving them a present induce them -to guide you to the Kilimanjaro country, to one of the -mission stations there—Evangelical or Methodist, -don't matter which. After that all would be plain -sailing, for I don't believe the Arabs of the British sphere -are going to rise."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When in the evening of that day, by the light of a -camp fire—they had practically no artificial -light—Mrs. Stott put this plan before Roger, he promptly -agreed. It would show he had done the right thing. -It would go far to save Lucy's good name, especially -among Mission folk. And it would give him nearly a -month to stay and explore the Happy Valley. He -had spent much of the day with James Stott helping -him in his work on the embryo station, and Stott had -told him of wonderful things he had seen or had -gleaned from native information. There was the new -lake to survey roughly; there was a paradise of big -game to shoot in. Here Mrs. Stott intervened: "I -hope you and my husband will go slow as regards -shooting. I know we must have the meat and we're -so nearly bankrupt at the coast that a few tusks of -ivory would come in handy. But somehow I should -like to think of this Happy Valley as a sort of -preserved zoological gardens where all these innocent -creatures of God's handiwork——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shouldn't call a rhinoceros innocent, Mrs. Stott," -said Roger, smoking his pipe with such contentment as -he had not known for months—"I have rather a tender -conscience about antelopes and zebras, but rhinos -attack you absolutely unprovoked...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Mrs. Stott</em><span>: "Only because men began humbugging -them first of all, long ago, I expect. However, -if ever I lived to see our mission stations self-supporting -and growing all the food they needed, I'd never -let James fire another shot at the game."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next morning the two Masai guides, well -rewarded, started off with a package. It contained -letters home from the Stotts, telling of their wonderful -deliverance; a brief despatch from Captain Brentnam -to H.M. Agent at Unguja, and letters to John Baines -and Ann Jamblin. John was asked how things were -going, and whether on second thoughts he would prefer -Lucy to return to Hangodi, and if he could take the -next opportunity of having the accompanying letters -sent to the coast; and Ann was given—curtly—information -as to Lucy's reaching the temporary station -of the Stotts. However expansive the Stotts might -be, within the compass of one sheet of paper, they said -very little about the situation of the Happy Valley; -and Brentham was still more reticent. Both no doubt -for the same reason, that the Happy Valley was too -good a proposition to be given away lightly to a greedy -world. Mrs. Stott still hoped, despite concluded -boundary conventions, it might be brought within the -British sphere; Brentham did not want any other fellow to -have a go at its big game or an examination of its -alluring secrets till he had had a chance to return.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whilst these letters were being carried to their -destination by two lithe, naked men of red-brown skin, with -hair done up in periwigs of twine soaped with mutton -fat and the same red-ochre as coloured their sleek -bodies, men who carried knobkerries in their -waistcords and long-bladed spears in the right hand, great -oval shields on the left arm, and who ran on sandalled -feet a steady six miles an hour when they were on the -road: Lucy and Roger disposed themselves to await -patiently the news which—they felt—was to -determine their fate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Twenty days went by in the Happy Valley in -blissful sameness. Lucy had her very limited wardrobe -washed in the lake waters which had some oddly -cleansing, blanching effect—something chemical which both -Roger and Mr. Stott would discuss in muttered phrases. -Lucy and Mrs. Stott together, with many a laugh at -blunder or foiled hopes of success, at length succeeded -in ironing the skirts and bodices and petticoats and -linen with a parody of a flat-iron, made for them by a -naked Elkonono blacksmith in a native forge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Brentham and his Wanyamwezi porters helped -Mr. Stott complete his new station. Or they organized -great shooting parties which enriched Mr. Stott with -ivory that he might some day sell, as against trade -goods and tea; or they accumulated biltong for Roger's -expedition, besides finding meat for the day-by-day -food of these hungry Wanyamwezi. To meet Mrs. Stott's -scruples and objections they had themselves -paddled in Wambugwe canoes farther up the lake and -shot elephants, zebras, buffaloes, antelopes, on the flats -twenty miles to the north of the Stotts' station. Or -they rode donkeys and travelled twenty miles -southwards, back along the road they had come (and got -faint, far-off rumours of men fighting, leagues and -leagues away, which made them anxious).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Or they laid out plantations in the rich alluvial soil -behind the station and fenced them in. There Mr. Stott -could plant his poor remnant of English vegetable -seeds, or with greater hope the maize, pumpkins, sweet -potatoes, ground-nuts, beans, and manioc of the -agricultural and fishing Bantu population.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, on the twenty-first day of this busy three -weeks, the Masai messengers once more squatted before -the Stotts' baraza. Silently one of them tendered to -Mrs. Stott a little package of dried banana leaves, tied -with some native fibre. Inside a fold of old newspaper -and a makeshift envelope made out of a copy-book -cover, on one half-sheet of dirty copy-book paper, Ann -sent Lucy this message:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Mbogo's Village,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>NOVEMBER SOMETHING OR OTHER, 1888.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAR LUCY,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Your messengers arrived yesterday, but I had to -keep them waiting for an answer and now they are -impatient to go. The station has been attacked—I -think it began at the end of October, but I am muddled -about dates. John and Mr. Bayley were killed on the -second day. Anderson and I are only wounded; we -are recovering, though my headaches are awful. -Josiah is dead, tell Halima. Help has come at last. -But don't come back this way. The Ruga-ruga are all -over Ugogo and there is fierce fighting in Nguru. The -Masai fought splendidly on our side. Go on to the -coast quick as you can, northern route. Can't write -more now, but will send through more news to Unguja -if I get the chance. Good-bye. John talked of -nothing but you when he was dying. It's about broken my -heart.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>ANN JAMBLIN.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Lucy and Mrs. Stott looked at one another in horror -and consternation as this note—written by a pencil -that had been frequently moistened—fluttered to the -ground from Lucy's nerveless fingers. She felt it was -the only tribute to her husband's memory, to her real -horror and remorse to assume a faintness she did not -feel while Mrs. Stott led her dry-eyed to her tent and -couch.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-attack-on-the-station"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE ATTACK ON THE STATION</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics">From Mrs. Anderson, E.A.M., to Mr. Callaway, -<br />Agent of East African Mission, Unguja.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Mbogo's Village,</span></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Ulunga, Nguru,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">Novr.</em><span> 30, 1888.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>DEAR MR. CALLAWAY,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You may have heard some rumour of what -has happened to us here. You will find much of it -described in the letter I have written to Mr. John -Baines's mother. You can read this letter. Read it -and then take notes. You have several clerks and -none of them with a broken head like mine, I'll be -bound, and plenty of good pens, ink and stationery. -All I've got to write on is some old ruled exercise -books and no envelopes. Well, make up some sort -of a letter out of what I've written to Mrs. Baines -senior, and then send it to the headquarters of the -Mission in London; and post the letter to her, Mrs. Baines, -Tilehurst, Reading. Tell them I'm recovering and -I'm going to stay here till I am relieved and even -perhaps afterwards, supposing I and my husband get quite -well. You may be surprised at my change of surname, -having known me as Miss Jamblin. Just before the -attack on our station (Hangodi) occurred I went -through a religious form of marriage with Mr. Ebenezer -Anderson. Mrs. John Baines had gone away—her -husband sent her off to the coast in the charge of -Consul Brentham—and I did not think it right to stay -at the Mission with three men and me unmarried; so I -accepted Mr. Anderson's proposal. Mr. Baines -married us, but as I supposed it wouldn't be legal without -we were married again before the Consul at Unguja, -we haven't lived together as man and wife, and won't -till everything can be made right and proper. I only -mention this in case either of us died.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You can also tell the big man at Unguja—Sir -Godfrey Something—what has happened in case he cares -to know. I don't suppose he does care. Those big -pots always sneer at Nonconformist Missionaries. -But I want him to know this. We should have all -been killed and perhaps tortured and our station might -have been utterly destroyed and our people carried off -into slavery if it hadn't been first for the Masai, and -most of all for an old Arab, Ali bin Ferhan—I think -he spells his name. He's written it in Arabic on the -piece of paper I enclose. He lives at Momoro, near -the Lingani River. Well, for reasons too long to give -he no sooner heard we were going to be attacked by the -Ruga-ruga and the black Arabs (they were led by that -limb of the Devil, Ayub bin Majidi, whom they -nickname Mnazi-moja) than he came to our assistance. -Mbogo and his people deserve a gold medal—not that -any one will give it—they're only "Wa-shenzi" and -we're only Nonconformists; they fought splendidly; -but they were just giving way when this old -Arab—just like a picture of Abraham he is—came up with -a lot of his people armed with guns and carrying flags. -And he called off the fighting. After that the -Ruga-ruga and their leaders simply disappeared with all the -plunder they could carry and we have been at peace -ever since, with Ali bin Ferhani camped here and -keeping guard over Ulunga. Ali doesn't like the Germans. -He always wanted his beloved "Ekkels"—I suppose -he means Sir James Eccles—to take the country for -the English Queen. But he thinks bad will come if any -white people are killed. He is so afraid the Germans -will think he joined with the other Arabs that I now -tell you all this, though every day I have a splitting -headache. I really began this letter a week ago. I -write a little every day, and now I think Ali will be -able to get it sent through to the coast, to Mvita, perhaps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The other letter—an exercise book tied up—is for -Mrs. John Baines. I don't think any one ought to see -it but herself. So please put it into an envelope and -address it to her "To await arrival at Unguja." She -started off for the Mvita coast with Captain Brentham -a month ago. What's happened to her I don't know. -I sent messengers to tell her her husband was dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saw Mrs. Stott here last July when Mrs. John -Baines had her premature confinement. Since then I -only know that their station at Burungi was destroyed, -but they got away safely somewhere else, where the -Consul and Mrs. Baines afterwards found them.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Yours in the love of Jesus,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>ANN ANDERSON.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>P.S. I ought perhaps to be more business-like, in -spite of feeling so ill, in case there is any trouble about -wills and say that their names were </span><em class="italics">Thomas Aldrich -Bayley</em><span> and </span><em class="italics">John Baines</em><span> and that they died as near as I -can reckon on October 29th, 1888. I haven't found -any wills, but I am trying to get their effects together, -though of course there is great confusion after the -looting. I've also written a note for old Mrs. Bayley.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics">From Mrs. Anderson, E.A.M., to Mrs. John Baines, -<br />c/o Mr. Callaway, Agent, East African Mission, -<br />Unguja.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Mbogo's Village,</span></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Ulunga,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">November</em><span>, 1888.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAR LUCY,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I am beginning to write this as near as I can guess -November 15, but I've got out in my dates and no -wonder. I've also got a broken head—I expect a -touch of concussion besides a scalp wound—and it is -simple agony to write for long. My eyes hurt so. I -must however try to tell you—and John's mother—what -has happened, so I shall write a little every day if -I am fit to and send these letters to the coast by the -first chance. Ali bin Ferhani thinks he can manage a -messenger later on who would cross into the British -"sphere." I expect you got my first message sent by -the Masai? In case you didn't or in case something -happens to me and I can't finish a long letter, I'll tell -you the plain facts first: </span><em class="italics">John's dead, Bayley's dead, -Josiah's dead</em><span>. Anderson and I are wounded. I'm -nearly well. The station is only partially destroyed. -Now you know the worst.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When I returned here from Burungi it was about the -tenth of October, so far as we could keep count. John -was very angry with me at first, for leaving you and -for coming to live with three men and I a single woman. -I well-nigh lost patience with him. But I said, Well -if </span><em class="italics">that's</em><span> all I'll marry one of you, I'll marry Ebenezer -if he'll have me. Ebenezer Anderson didn't look -overjoyed, but John said: That's all right; you came out -to marry him, so the Mission expected, and you're only -now fulfilling the contract. All right, I said, you're a -minister of the Gospel, you could marry us at home, -so you can do it here, only it won't be legal till we're -re-married at the Consulate. But it'll be a marriage -in God's eyes, which is the great thing. I felt reckless -about it somehow. Of course I'm not going to live -with Eb until all this trouble's over and everything is -legal. Well, after that was done with, the country -round seemed to be getting jumpy and Mbogo sent to -say the Ruga-ruga under that Devil, Ayub, were -coming to attack us, coming with lots of men and guns. -So we sent out word to the Masai, and they turned up -well. About three hundred spears. But after a bit -they got tired of waiting, so went off somewhere else -to do some raiding on their own account.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Towards the end of October—perhaps it was the -28th—no sooner was our first bell rung for -dressing—half-past five—than we heard the most unearthly -yelling and a tremendous firing of guns. I just got my -clothes and boots on anyhow and the men turned out in -shirts and trousers and with their boots unlaced. The -bullets were flying like hail above the stockade, first of -all too high. We dared not go to peep through for -fear of being shot. Well, John didn't lose his head one -bit. He gave out the Sniders to all our Walunga who -could use them, and he and Bayley and Anderson took -up the posts they had settled beforehand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the Ruga-ruga made a rush almost up to -the ditch which they seemed not to expect, and John -and the men let them have it. Five or six were killed. -After that Mbogo's Walunga came up and took them -on the flank with guns and spears, and they didn't like -it at all and withdrew for a spell. But I can't tell you -everything—Perhaps some day I will if you ever care -to hear it—I've got to write to John's mother as well -as you.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fighting in the afternoon was chiefly between -the Ruga-ruga and Mbogo's villages. I suppose they -thought they'd better finish </span><em class="italics">them</em><span> off before they came -again to us. They drove Mbogo's people out of all -their villages except the big one near us, where Mbogo -lives. This was higher up, and Mbogo and John had -worked at its fortification on Captain Brentham's -plan—it turned out to be much more easily defended than -our place. Fortunately also the Ruga-ruga and the -Arabs don't like fighting at night—Oh my headache, -I must leave off for a bit....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, during that night we worked like Trojans—Who -were the Trojans and why did they work hard? -You ought to know with your superior education. We -dug out a square pit in the middle of the station and -lined it with dry grass. In it we arranged chairs and -mattresses so that we could rest and sleep here out of -reach of the bullets. We also turned the Chapel into -a living-house and store, because its brick walls and -iron roof made it secure against fire and fairly safe -from bullets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the second day the Ruga-ruga, led on by Ayub, -attacked us on the west side, where our stockade was -weakest and where we were overlooked a little by that -mound we used to call the Snakes's Hill. Brother -Bayley was standing talking to me about some dressings -he wanted for Josiah Briggs who had been shot in -the foot, when suddenly he uttered a shriek, whirled -round and fell at my feet. He died a few minutes -afterwards. John was so infuriated at his death that -in spite of my shouts to be careful, he climbed up to a -look-out post and fired his double-barrelled sporting -rifle at a group of Ruga-ruga on Snakes's Hill. -Whilst he was stooping to reload a poisoned arrow -struck him on the chest and penetrated his lung. A -good many of the Ruga-ruga were Manyema savages, -slaves of the Arabs, and they fought with bows and -poisoned arrows. John scrambled down somehow on -to the ground. Ebenezer Anderson helped me to carry -him into the pit shelter and there we undressed him. -He was streaming with blood and coughing up blood -and fast losing consciousness. Somehow or other—oh, -what a time it was!—we got the arrow-head out -of the wound. I don't know even now how, for we -were both of us bunglers and it had got partly wedged -in the ribs. And we had to cut the poor dear about. -Fortunately we had Bayley's instruments down with us -in this pit. But I can't go into all these details. Shall -I ever get this letter finished?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whilst we were attending to John we heard a -tremendous shouting. It was the Humba war song—the -Masai, you know. They had come at last to our -assistance and taken the Ruga-ruga rather by surprise. -But just before they made their rush up the hill, the -Ruga-ruga had contrived to shoot arrows with flaming -cotton soaked in oil on to our thatched roofs. Fire -was spreading from building to building except the -Chapel and the store. My Big-geru had lost their -heads. Up to that time they had been so good. Our -Walunga were trying to open the doors of the stockade -and dash out into the open country. Then the -Ruga-ruga would have broken in and all would have been up -with us. Fortunately the charge of the Masai came -at that very moment, when I was beginning to doubt if -God had not forgotten us. They killed lots of the -Ruga-ruga and would hack off their heads and throw -them back into our stockade.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the Ruga-ruga seemed to get reinforcements -from the Ugogo direction—quite a large body of -men, they say, led by two Arabs—the two Arabs -whom John had got expelled a year ago by Mbogo for -trading in slaves. They had got a small cannon and -its noise and the landing of a stone cannon ball in the -middle of a party of Masai gave them a fright, so that -all of the Masai drew off from near our station and ran -round to the high ground behind Mbogo's town. Once -more it seemed as though nothing could save us. The -Ruga-ruga fired stone balls at our stockade and seemed -making up their minds to a rush.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ebenezer was just splendid at this time. I'm not -sorry now I agreed to marry him, though the poor dear -is still pretty bad and hardly right in his mind yet. -But just at this critical moment he and Josiah and five -of our men who knew how to handle guns kept up such -a fire with the rifles that they shot down several of the -big men among the enemy. Then poor Josiah was -shot in the stomach and died an hour or two afterwards. -Ebenezer got a splinter of wood in his eye—through -a cannon ball striking a post near him, and he -was put out of action for a bit. Meantime nothing -more happened. There was a lull. The Ruga-ruga -drew off out of sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could think of nothing but John all this time, -though I had a feeling of being stunned and hurt -myself. He recovered consciousness and talked of no -one but you. I think he thought you were with him -all the time, and I confess </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> hurt me. It was Lucy -my darling, my own true wife—and I wondered -whether you </span><em class="italics">were</em><span>—and Lucy you've come back and -now we'll go home together.... He didn't mention -my name </span><em class="italics">once</em><span>, and I can't remember that he said a -word about God. Perhaps he didn't know he was -dying. Towards the last his body swelled dreadfully -and he sank into a stupor. He must have died just -about sunset. When he was going I seemed to be -going too. I suppose I fainted, for when one of my -Big-geru came down into the pit with some broth she'd -made she set up a howling and a yelling saying we -were both dead, that Bwana Fulata, as they called -John, had taken me with him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My girls undressed me and found then that I had -been wounded all the time. A slug or a rusty nail -fired out of one of the guns had ripped across my -shoulders and the back of my head and I'd never -noticed it. It must have been when Eb and I were -helping John down into the pit—I thought some one then -had given me a push. And while I sat beside John -the blood had soaked all the back of my bodice and -caked quite hard. It's left a kind of blood-poisoning, -but I'm getting over it. Only it causes these awful -headaches. And poor Eb before the fighting finished -got hit in the arm, and then from our clumsy attempts -to extract the iron filings which had struck him he got -blood-poisoning too, much worse than me. I can't say -what his temperature went up to because I can't find -any of our clinical thermometers, but to judge from -his ravings it must have been pretty high.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the night following that second day, Mbogo came -with a lot of his headmen and took us three away and -all our Big-geru to inside his own village and put us -in his women's quarters. </span><em class="italics">He's</em><span> a white man if you like, -under his skin. He was afraid we might all be burnt -to death by the fire spreading inside our station. So -we should have done. I lost my senses that night from -weakness or shock or something. When I came to -again I could hardly move my head for pain. But my -girls bathed me and gave me wonderful potions of -their own making and I was able to sit up. Mbogo -came in, but spoke behind the door for modesty. -What do you think of that in a black savage? A -"Mshenzi"! Because he thought I might be -undressed. But he said in Swahili: "Fear no more. -Your friends are coming."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next morning I heard that Ali bin Ferhani, -who'd been a friend of John's—you remember?—had -come with a big party of his followers, and hearing -he was on his way the Ruga-ruga had bolted because -they all respect him as a "Sheikh." He says he is -going to stop here with his men till peace comes, or at -any rate till white people take command here.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Your Masai messengers came two days after Ali bin -Ferhani had arrived, and I wrote with great difficulty -the message I sent you and got the Big-geru to do it up -for me. Some of them write quite nicely themselves -now, but only in Kagulu.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There's lots and lots more I could tell you if we ever -meet again or I ever have time and plenty of paper. -After the Ruga-ruga were gone and the fires were -beaten out my Big-geru searched in the Chapel and the -ruins of the school houses and found three copy-books -and a stone bottle of ink and some pens. I've used -nearly a copy-book each for you and John's mother -and a bit of a one writing to Mr. Callaway and a short -note to Mr. Bayley's mother. I haven't made a proper -search yet, but I can't find any will left by John. I -don't suppose he had much to leave you.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>You'd better go now and marry your Captain. It's -the least he can do after compromising you, whether -it was his fault or not. You never loved John as he -deserved to be loved and you did wrong to become -engaged to him, as his mother always said. If you -hadn't been there he'd have married me. And we -should have been happy as happy because I'd have -slaved for him. I loved him from the time we first -met, because he was kind and polite to me even though -I was not well favoured. He never laughed at my -hymns as you used to do. They may have been -rubbish, but I meant well. In those days I was that -religious it had to come out somehow. I said I loved the -Lord and I did—I thought. I ain't so sure about it -now. His ways are truly </span><em class="italics">past finding out</em><span> and I've -given up trying, though I shall stick to Mission work -for John's sake. John would have said the coming of -Ali bin Ferhani was providential, but why couldn't -Providence have acted a bit sooner and saved John -and Brother Bayley? I suppose we shall know some -day....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, good-bye, Lucy. Let me have a line to say -you got this packet. I've no envelope to put it in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was going to finish up with Yours in the love of -Jesus, but I really don't know....</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>ANN ANDERSON.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>P.S. If you ever get to England and back Reading -way, give my love to the Miss Calthorps and go in and -see my Uncle at the shop and say I'm trying to do my -duty out here and he isn't to bother. I think perhaps -you'd better not go near Mrs. Baines—John's mother. -You never know how she'll take things. She was that -</span><em class="italics">set</em><span> on John.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">December</em><span> 1.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Ali bin Ferhani's pretty sure to-day he can get these -letters through, so off this goes. I forgot to say that -we're going to bury John and Mr. Bayley side by side -in the pit we dug in the middle of the station. Eb is -not in a fit state to be consulted, though his -temperature seems going down. But I've decided for him. -As soon as I can get about without too much aches and -pains I shall see it done. If you get home you might -communicate with the East African Mission and -arrange for a Stone to be sent out to be put up over the -grave. Somehow it seems to me John wants to be -buried there. It may bring good luck to Hangodi.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>ANN.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-return-to-unguja"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE RETURN TO UNGUJA</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Up the scarcely-discernible path they climbed, leaving -the Happy Valley behind them; over the foothills -and under cliff at the base of the northern escarpment, -where the gaily flowering bushes in their early -spring display gave way to tall forest trees, hung with -lianas. The black Colobus monkeys with their -white-plumed tails chattered and showed their teeth and -flopped from branch to branch in the leafy canopy, not -used to this tumultuous invasion of their solitudes. -Then suddenly the escarpment rose like the wall of a -Babel towering into Heaven. How could any way for -human beings walking on two legs be found up these -precipices? But despite its savagery there is scarcely -one of Africa's fastnesses that has not been trodden by -man, and although the practised route into the Happy -Valley was from the south, and though its encompassing -walls of cliff on either side and at the northern end -of its lake seemed impassable, there were ways up and -over them known to the Masai and Hamitic and Nilotic -peoples of this sequestered rift valley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up some such </span><em class="italics">Via mala</em><span> the Masai guides were now -leading Brentham's caravan, with little concern for the -trepidation it caused. The white man and woman -and the silently suffering Goanese cook had been -obliged to descend from their donkeys and trudge with -the porters. The donkeys, in fact, were sent to the -rear of the procession, and Brentham walked in front -with the guides and a few disencumbered porters to -help Lucy over an ascent which would have been -thought rough climbing in the Alps, and here had to be -made without any paraphernalia of ropes and irons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy sometimes had to shut her eyes and hold her -body rigidly pressed against the wall of rock that she -might recover from vertigo and continue with shaking -legs her ascent of a twisting path, sometimes only -fifteen inches broad where it overhung an abyss. Roger -was beside himself with anxiety. He cast about in his -mind for safeguards—Ropes? But they had none. -Lengths of cotton cloth? But how get at them and -apply them, when any extra movement might turn -Lucy giddy and precipitate her into the tree-tops far -below? Their taciturn Masai guides, pledged only to -show them the way to Kilimanjaro, had given them no -warning of what the path was like from the lake shore, -between three and four thousand feet above sea level, -to the top of the escarpment at seven thousand feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once committed to the ascent the caravan had to -continue, as there was no room in which to turn the -donkeys round and descend again to the valley. All -Roger could do was to insist on great deliberation in -the climb and frequent halts, though this policy was -not endorsed by the impatient asses behind. When -the white people in front paused to negotiate some more -than usually dangerous section of the path, the rest of -the caravan had to pause too, the porters with their -loads poised on their heads and their sinewy legs -trembling with the strain, while the donkeys pranced with -impatience to pass them, and nearly pushed some of -them and their loads over into the gulf below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's no good," Roger would say to his companion, -"you can't get round this, walking upright; you must -go on hands and knees and </span><em class="italics">crawl</em><span> over it. Never mind -your dress or your knees. If your skirt is torn I'll -make you one out of buck-skin; if your knees are cut -it's better than breaking your neck."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had never lived through such a nightmare as this -climb, and ran down in sweat for sheer apprehension of -an irretrievable disaster. However it came to an end -at last, and towards that end its difficulties were -tempered by the path's entry into gorges where there were -merciful bays of level ground, places to rest in and -stretch oneself, to put down the loads and regain one's -breath and ease one's palsied legs. From the jagged -rocks grew out horizontally fleshy-leaved aloes with -zebra markings of green and white, and long stalks of -blood-red or orange-yellow, tubular flowers, haunted -by large yellow-velvet bees with probing tongues. -Huge blue-black ravens with arched bills and white -collars perched on pinnacles of rock above the path, -or set out to sail in circles over the gorge below, hoping -no doubt some beast or human would fall and die and -provide sightless eyeballs and protruding entrails for -the ravens' feast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy thought of this in these silent halts—all were -too exhausted to speak—and shuddered. Yet for a -white woman of that period, unsuitably costumed as -she was, she gave no more trouble to her male companion -than she could help, uttered no futile complaints -or queries. They had exchanged but little conversation -during the two days which had elapsed since they -received Ann Jamblin's message. John Baines's ghost, -like a Banquo, came between them. Lucy was—and -looked as though she was—in perfect health. Deep -down within her heart she was quietly content, -convinced now that somehow, some day, she would marry -Roger. Equally certain was she that none of the -ordinary dangers of African travel would prevent her from -reaching the coast under his escort; so that he had in -her a more cheerful and far less sulky or doleful -companion than had accompanied the unfortunate John on -his wedding tour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the ascent of the escarpment they camped two -nights in succession in a strange region suggestive of -the Moon's surface as revealed by a powerful telescope. -There were the crumbling sides of craters, the cones -of extinct volcanoes—extinct, perhaps; but sometimes -a strange and ominous-looking white smoke or gassy -vapour issued from cracks in the ground and through -veins in the obsidian rocks. Vegetation was very -scanty—a few yellow stalks of bamboo in the hollows; -and water was scarce enough to cause anxiety and limit -washing to a minimum. Yet if they could cross this -dry belt of naked rock and barren mountain and the -possibly waterless plain that lay in front of them, to -the east there was a promise of better things. Far -away, a blue pyramid seen against the morning sun, -was Mount Meru, one of the great, unmistakable -landmarks of East Africa. It towered fifteen thousand -feet into the sky and when the sun turned to the zenith -and the west they could see the peak of the pyramid -was white with snow. And behind Meru in the early -morning or in the early evening there came into view -something at first unbelievable, a floating island in the -sky, a Laputa: the great snowy dome of Kibô....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few days of rough, silent travel—seeing no -natives and very few birds and beasts—and they were -in the Kisongo plains. Here it was less arid, and -beneath the burnt stems of the old grass the fresh green -grass was springing. The occasional scrubby trees and -bushes were putting forth fresh leaves, sometimes -quite red in colour, or even purplish black. Big game -swarmed round them unafraid of man, inclined even -to be insolent. Rhinoceroses charged the caravan and -both Lucy and Roger had narrow escapes of being -tossed on their horns, while Lucy was twice flung from -her donkey when it bolted with terror at a tangent -from the unexpected rush of the squealing monster. -A Nyamwezi porter was gored and trampled, his load -smashed and the caravan disorganized. Roger laid -low one rhinoceros; and then, water being near, they -spent all the rest of that day and the next cutting up -its flesh, smoking it, drying it in the sun, and making -of it a food provision greatly wanted by the porters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This much-needed rest however brought another -danger on them. The sound of rifle firing, the -assemblage of vultures, the noise of the porters' excited -voices attracted the attention of a large war party of -Masai, trailing southward to see what was up in this -rumoured war between the Arabs—or, as they called -them, the "coast" people—and the White men -... troubled waters in which they might fish to advantage. -Lucy was sitting in camp in as much placid enjoyment -as she could feel, with the remembrance of John's death -in the background. She forgot, at any rate for the -moment, her remorse and her anxieties "as to what -people would say." It was very pleasant to rest here -and to know that she would not have to rise at five the -next morning and ride nearly all day, and perhaps have -another close shave from a charging rhinoceros....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gradually there stole on her ear a sound like distant -thunder. The sky was clear ... surely it couldn't -be a whole </span><em class="italics">herd</em><span> of rhinos, or a distant -earthquake—earthquakes not being unknown in this region? -Presently the Wanyamwezi looked up anxiously from their -camp employments or their parcelling out of the -rhinoceros meat. Roger was away, shooting more game.... -There went up the fear-inspiring word: "Masai!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then appeared on the north a cloud of red dust and -out of this emerged a small army of red-coloured men -trailing their shields by lanyards, with a rumbling -noise, waving long-bladed white-flashing spears, and -uttering a growling chant, a war-song of bloodthirsty -purport, though its words were not understood by the -people in the undefended camp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Swahili Kiongozi fortunately was on the spot, -and then and at other times never lost his head. He -stood quietly beside Lucy, who was seated in her -deckchair with her white umbrella to shade her from the -sun. "Starehe, Bibi," he said; "usiogope; Muungu -anatulinda. Hawa ndio Masai, kweli; walakini -tutawashinda na akili."[#]</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] "Be tranquil, Lady. Do not fear. God is guarding us. -These indeed are Masai truly, but we shall overcome them with -intelligence."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The porters just stayed where they were. To have -started to run would—they knew—have been fatal. -They just stood about, silent, while the advancing -army—perhaps three hundred in number—suddenly halted -and lay down behind their large, gaily-painted shields. -The two men of the expedition who knew the Masai -language drew up to the Kiongozi—unfortunately the -Masai guides were away, out hunting with Roger. A -hundred yards distant there stood out one superb -Masai warrior, the leader of the party; a naked figure -of perfect manhood, red in colour, with a naturally -brown skin, raddled with ochre and powdered with the -dust of the red ground. The vertical sun seemed to -make a red halo round the outline of his beautiful body. -He held a tuft of grass in his hand and shouted in an -authoritative voice: "Tôtŏna!" (Sit down!)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At once the men of Brentham's caravan obeyed him. -All sat down and plucked tufts of fresh green grass. -Then the Masai spokesman advanced slowly ... wonderingly -... peeringly towards the white woman, reclining -on the deck-chair. "What is </span><em class="italics">this</em><span>?" he asked -the headman and the two interpreters. "This," they -replied, glad to get a chance of making an impression, -"</span><em class="italics">this</em><span> is a WHITE WOMAN of the great race of the -Wa-ingrezi. Her husband is the great chief, the Balozi -of the Wa-ingrezi on the coast. We come now from -the Manyara country, guided by your own people, the -Masai. There is war to the south, in Nguru and -Ugogo, war between the Lajomba and the White men. -Our Balozi is taking his wife to the coast to put her -with his own people; then he will return and finish the -Lajomba."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good," said the Masai war-captain. "We heard -of this war and we are going there to see if we can join -in. We hate the Lajomba."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment there was a stir among the three -hundred warriors sitting apart. It was caused by the -approach of Brentham, filled with apprehension and -anxiety as to Lucy. Unfortunately his own Masai -guides belonged to a southern clan of the Masai, not on -very good terms with this more northern, purer breed. -So there was a ruffle of angry words as each realized -the other as whilom foes. But the leader who had been -sitting close to Lucy rose to his feet and spoke with a -carrying voice—rather than shouted—a command -and once more his warriors sat down. He then took -Lucy's hand, but quite gently. His own hand had -well-trimmed nails and was clean except for the red -dust. He turned back her sleeve a little (she trembled, -but tried to smile). Having satisfied himself that the -arm was even whiter than the hand, he threw back his -head and laughed a full-throated laugh, while his eyes -sparkled with the wonderment of it all. Seeing her -smile he looked at her with such a friendly glance that -she felt completely reassured. Then he sat down -again, took snuff, and was framing other questions -when Roger strode up. "It is all well, master," said -the headman hurriedly in Swahili.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, you're holding quite a court, Lucy," said -Roger, inwardly immensely relieved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ye-es. But I shall be </span><em class="italics">rather</em><span> glad when they all go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Masai leader rose to his feet and held out his -hand to Brentham. The latter took it and White man -and Red man looked for a moment into each other's -eyes. Roger, knowing something of Masai -customs—was he not indeed but three or four marches from -scenes of earlier exploration?—did not shrink away -when the Masai captain spat on his clothing and on -Lucy's dress. He knew it was intended for the friendliest -of greetings, a seal on their good relations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After that, all was boisterous good-fellowship, though -the Wanyamwezi porters were careful to keep together -and half carelessly to reclaim their rifles. The three -hundred Masai agreed to overlook the fact that Roger's -guides had belonged to a once hostile clan. And when -they learnt from these men what a hunter he was and -what an unerring shot, they pressed their friendship -and their red presence on him. They visited his -tent—they were throughout strictly honest—they sat on -his bed, and he had afterwards to do without sheet and -pillow case, for besides leaving red dust wherever they -sat they distributed a flavour of tallow from their -favourite unguent, mutton fat. They insisted on -blood-brotherhood and declared they would escort the white -chieftain and his lady to the coast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As a matter of prosaic fact, they took him no farther -than the base of Meru. There the rainy season began -to break with vehemence. So there they left him and -went off to the drier steppe country and the War in -the south with its possibilities of loot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger longed at this time to ascend Meru and -explore its hidden wonders; and Lucy gazed with awe at -the now fully displayed majesty of Kilimanjaro, rising -above the watery plain of Kahe, with its dome of snow -and ice, and its lesser peak of Kimawenzi.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But being short of stores they made straight for a -newly-founded Evangelical Mission station, at an -altitude of four thousand feet, where it was hoped Lucy -might find shelter for a few days from the torrential -rains, and he himself gather news about the happenings -on the coast, and dispatch carriers to Mvita with -messages which might be telegraphed to Unguja.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After all their adventures this seemed rather a -prosaic phase in the journey, and Lucy found herself -actually depressed at being once more with -fellow-countrymen. There were three missionaries—a -married couple and an assistant bachelor propagandist—at -the station of the Evangelical Mission, but they did not -seem over surprised at this arrival of a white man and -woman from the unknown interior. They received -Lucy's halting explanations civilly but coldly, and -though they gave her a room to herself and nicely -cooked meals, they seemed—to her fancy—to have -purposely adopted an almost penitentiary surfeit of -services and prayers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Captain Brentham preferred to camp out at the -Chief's village, two miles away. He had known this -genial, old, one-eyed ruffian three years before, when -he was exploring the approaches to the great Snow -Mountain, and making tentative treaties to forestall the -Germans. He rather ground his teeth over the changing -scene. Since his first journey, missionaries, -big-game sportsmen, concession hunters, had thronged into -this wonderful country, and had not the slightest -respect for its earliest pioneers. Already there was a -large and flourishing mission station on the site of his -first camp; and when on installing Lucy there he had -drawn the missionaries' attention to this fact, and to -his having made the site ready for them, purchased it -in fact, the present occupants merely said with pursed -lips, "Indeed?"; and Mrs. Missionary added primly: -"Yes: we </span><em class="italics">heard</em><span> from the Chief you had stayed here, -three years ago; but we prefer </span><em class="italics">never</em><span> to listen to </span><em class="italics">gossip</em><span> -about white people. It is so </span><em class="italics">often ill-natured</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so onwards to the Taita Hills and the coast. A -sense of flatness, a leaking-out of all romance in their -adventure. They were no longer alone. Lucy went -to see Mr. Thomas at the East African Mission station -in Taita. He startled her by asking cheery questions -about John, his old college-mate, and supposing John -was with her on this </span><em class="italics">safari</em><span>. He had heard nothing -about the disaster and made rather stupid and -inquisitive inquiries as to the motives of her journey. -Farther on, they had the misery of crossing the red -Maungu desert, with its stretch of forty miles between -water and water; but there was no "adventure" about -this; and midway they met the caravan of a very rich -Englishman with two companions, wearing single -eye-glasses, who offered them champagne and soda-water -at midday to relieve their thirst, and told Lucy he -wasn't surprised at her travelling about with a stray -Consul, as he always contended that missionaries out -in Africa had a jolly good time and did themselves -uncommonly well, and for his part he didn't blame her. -"Gather ye roses, don't you know—while you can—or -was it while you're young? And now I suppose -you're on your way back to Hubby?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old Arab port of Mvita was not much altered -since Roger had seen it last; though there was the -beginning of a stir, for a British Chartered Company was -preparing to make this their head-quarters. Meantime, -the centre of rank and fashion, so to speak, was -the British Consulate. Roger made his way here, with -Lucy and Halima, while he left the bulk of his caravan -encamped across the water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His colleague, the Vice-Consul, was an ex-Naval -Officer, who had given up the Navy for a while to serve -in the East African Consulates, in the idea that they -entailed little office work, good pay, and any amount of -shooting, varied with agreeable </span><em class="italics">safaris</em><span> at the -expense of the Government. This particular example of -his kind had been rather sharply called back to more -humdrum duties and the preparation of statistics by -Roger himself, when he was acting Consul-General. -So now was the time to get his own back:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Hullo</em><span>, old chap! </span><em class="italics">Who'd</em><span> have thought it. Where -have you sprung from? We'd all given you up for -lost—thought you'd gone 'Fanti,' eloped with a -missionaryess for the far interior and were founding an -empire on your own...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've brought here," interrupted Roger, with a set -face, "</span><em class="italics">Mrs. John Baines</em><span>" (Lucy had retreated out of -ear-shot with Halima to the verandah of the -Consulate)—"</span><em class="italics">Mrs. John Baines</em><span>, whose husband has been killed, -I fear, in the Ulunga country. I should be much -obliged if you could put her up here till we can get a -dau to take us over to Unguja.... As for me..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Aw*fully sorry old chap. *Of course</em><span>, I can make -room for </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> ... give you </span><em class="italics">some</em><span> sort of a -shakedown.... You're a fellow </span><em class="italics">man</em><span> and you'll -understand.... But the fact is I'm—I'm not—quite -prepared—er—to entertain a white lady here. -Bachelor establishment you know.... </span><em class="italics">You</em><span> -twig? ... Dare say you're fixed up just the same at—where is -it? at Medina, What?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger turned away angrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lucy! ... Mrs. Baines!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Captain Brentham."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll get a boat and we'll go over to the Mission -station across the Bay. I expect they'll have -room—indeed they must </span><em class="italics">make</em><span> room—for you there till -our dau is ready to sail...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then turning to the Vice-Consul: "Be good -enough to send a cablegram to-day to the Agency at -Unguja stating that H.M. Consul for Zangia arrived -here this morning from the interior with Mrs. John -Baines from Ulunga, and add that I shall arrive at -Unguja to report as soon as I can charter a dau; -unless a gun-boat comes in first. My Camp is at -Kisolutini. You can send on any letters that come for me -there...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, but I say..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger having been joined by the wondering and -disappointed Lucy, who had taken a great fancy to the -picturesque Consulate, strode out with an angry face, -flushed under the tan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No return message came for him from the Agency at -Unguja. And a few days afterwards he embarked -with Lucy and Halima (who had already agreed to -marry the Goanese cook), his Wanyamwezi porters, -and a selected collection of trophies and mineralogical -specimens, in an Arab dau, for the island port of -Unguja. This time—December 27, 1888—Lucy -was too anxious about her future to notice or to care -whether it had bugs or not in its rotting timbers or its -frowsy thatch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meantime, unfriendly forces were at work to -Roger's detriment. Here is a letter which Mrs. Spencer -Bazzard probably wrote to Mr. Bennet Molyneux, -of the Foreign Office. (Like most of the letters -appearing in this book, it is based on my deductions as -to the kind of letter that would have been written under -the circumstances, rather than on textual evidence):—</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>H.B.M. Consulate for Zangia,</span></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Medinat-al-Barkah,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">December</em><span> 23, 1888.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAR MR. MOLYNEUX,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I hope you don't resent my letters. You don't -answer them, but then I told you not to. I shouldn't -like to be a bore to you, or for you to feel—amid -your piles of work—that you had an extra letter to -write to an importunate little person in far-off East -Africa. I said once I should go on writing every now -and again, unless you ordered me to stop. As you -haven't—Well! Here is another budget of East -African news.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We have had alarums and excursions, as Shakespeare -says. You will see by this address that I am on -the mainland with my husband. When Captain -B. disappeared last September into the </span><em class="italics">ewigkeit</em><span> the Agency -at Unguja began receiving disquieting stories as to -what was taking place in his absence. He had only -left an Indian clerk in charge, and complaints arose -from Indian merchants and English missionaries that -no one could attend to their business. So Sir G. D. thought -it best to send Spence over here to take charge, -and, of course, I came with him to help him to interpret.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We found everything (a month ago) in a terrible -muddle. The consulate is filthily dirty, the archives -are just anyhow, and Spence fears a considerable sum -is missing from the Consular receipts, or else that the -clerk is muddled in his accounts. But all this you will -hear officially.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meantime, we are all uneasy about Captain B.'s -disappearance. He left here last August with some idea -of letting the missionaries know there was danger of -ah Arab attack on all white people independent of their -nationality, German or English. He seems to have -translated Sir G.'s brief instructions into a permission -to make a vast tour of the interior—a delightful thing -to do, no doubt, but not when you have a Consulate to -look after. He greatly alarmed all the missionaries, -and, as it appears, somewhat needlessly. Those who -have their stations in Usagara and farther south are -very angry with him. He arrived at their stations -early in September and ordered them to retire on the -coast—or at any rate send their wives and children -there, as the Arabs might attack at once. And after -they had obeyed him the attacks never came off! One -of the missionary ladies was in a certain condition, it -appears, and the hurried journey so upset her that—how -shall I phrase it?—her hopes were disappointed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He next appeared at a place called Hangodi—according -to native report—and was so anxious about -the safety of a fair lady there (the missionary young -woman who travelled out with him and me a year and -a half ago)—that he took her away with him and has -seemingly gone waltzing off to the unknown with this -fair charge. Quite romantic, isn't it? In this case his -warning as to an impending attack seems to have been -only too well founded, if what has been reported to the -Germans is true. Soon after he left this place—Hangodi—it -was apparently attacked and destroyed and -the missionaries all killed—except, of course, the lady -who left with him. Ill-natured people will naturally -ask why he did not stay and defend the station.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is only two days off Christmas, and I can picture -to myself the happy preparations going on at -Spilsbury—the carols the village children are practising for -Christmas Day, and the Christmas-tree which I am -sure Mrs. Molyneux and your daughter are preparing -for their reward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These ridiculous sentimental Germans are, of course, -getting up Christmas-trees, too, and are practising -Carols to be sung round them, though the town is still -more or less besieged on the landward side. </span><em class="italics">Who</em><span> and -</span><em class="italics">what</em><span> was Good King Wenceslaus, and why should we -sing about him at Christmastide? There is no library -here, except the one they have at the French Mission, -and that mentions nothing about Germany.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We are told here that a certain Captain Wissmann -will soon arrive with a large force of Sudanese soldiers -to take command and finish the Arabs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still no news of Stanley, except it be the wildest, -most improbable rumours. If he really emerges from -the heart of Africa it will only be—I fear—to fall -into some ambush laid by the Arabs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With our united kindest regards and best wishes for -1889,</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Believe me, dear Mr. Molyneux,</span></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Yours sincerely,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>EMILIA BAZZARD.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Roger and Lucy reached Unguja in their Arab dau -at the end of December, when the Europeans therefore -were recovering from the surfeit of Christmas junketings -and preparing for another round of New Year -festivities, but a little bit peevish and liverish in the -interval. The arrival of the British Consul for Zangia -was not unexpected, because telegraphic news of his -emergence from the interior had already reached the -British Agency. In the afternoon of December 29th -he walked into the office of the Agency and reported -himself to Sir Godfrey Dewburn....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! my </span><em class="italics">dear</em><span> Brentham, </span><em class="italics">how</em><span> are you? </span><em class="italics">What</em><span> a -time you must have had, to be sure! We all gave -you up for lost, or thought you had gone in search of -Stanley or Emin, or were off to attack the Mahdi. -Well: and how is the fair companion of your travels, -Mrs.—Mrs. ... er ..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Brentham</em><span>: "Mrs. John Baines? She is, I believe, -at Mr. Callaway's at the present moment. I advised -her to go there as he is Agent here for their Mission, -and would probably have definite news about—about—the -attack on her husband's station ... and the -results. Have you heard anything, Sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sir Godfrey</em><span>: "Nothing more than the rumour -that after you left it was attacked, and, I think, all the -Whites were killed ..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment a clerk comes in and says: "This -is a note with an enclosure, Sir Godfrey, from -Mr. Callaway." Sir Godfrey asks Brentham to be seated -and hastily runs his eye over a very long communication. -Five minutes elapse. Then whilst he is still -reading, another door leading to the residential part of -the Agency opens and there appears a handsome woman -of middle age, with the stamp of elegance and fashion -upon her, dressed in some agreeable adaptation of an -Englishwoman's dress for the tropics. She says, -"Godfrey, my dear, tea's ready and as you don't like -it drawn or cold I thought if I came myself—but I -see you have a visitor...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! Ah! ... Yes.... To be sure.... Er.... -Brentham, this is Lady Dewburn—" (They -shake hands. Lady Dewburn looks him over approvingly.) -"You'd better come in and have tea with us -and then we can talk over this extraordinary communication -of Callaway's. It couldn't have come more -appropriately. Evidently it must have been brought by -your dau. It's been sent down by some Arab and it is -all about the attack on the station where these missionary -friends of yours were living. It seems they were -not all killed, two of 'em at any rate ... though I -think the husband of your lady friend </span><em class="italics">was</em><span>.... But -come along and we'll have a confab all about it. The -Bazzards are over at your Consulate on the mainland, -so whilst you're here you'd better take possession of -their quarters. The golden-haired Emily says she left -it in apple-pie order when she departed for Medina.... -This way ... would you like to wash your -hands first? You look quite the Wild Man of Borneo, -and I don't wonder.... </span><em class="italics">Must</em><span> have had a beastly -time.... I should suggest a whisky and soda first -and tea afterwards...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy meantime was reading Ann Anderson's letter, -given in a previous chapter. She had been placed once -more in the bedroom she had occupied in Mr. Callaway's -house before her marriage, and shuddered at the -memories it enshrined. Dear, kind Mrs. Stott was -far away in the Happy Valley ... and she could never -again hear John's voice calling to her from the courtyard -under the great fig-trees that the Sultan's carriage -was waiting hard-by to take them for a drive; or making -some other proposition which she probably snubbed -in fretfulness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was consumed with remorse. Ann's statement -that in his last agonies, dying with poisoned blood, he -had only thought and spoken of </span><em class="italics">her</em><span>, made her heart -ache, almost literally—the aching of unshed tears over -the irrevocable. She had not been unfaithful to him -in body; but in mind, in desire, </span><em class="italics">yes</em><span>: from the day of -the marriage onwards, and never more so than from -the day of her departure from Hangodi. She knew -she had hoped then that somehow this departure, this -desertion of John when danger was approaching—might -be the beginning of her severance from him, and -lead to her union with Roger. To </span><em class="italics">him</em><span> at any time -during the long </span><em class="italics">safari</em><span> she would have surrendered -herself....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet though her upper consciousness—the "speaking -to one's self" (which we almost do sometimes -aloud, as if to an audience that may register our words -and resolves)—asserted that the </span><em class="italics">only</em><span> reparation she -</span><em class="italics">could</em><span> make was </span><em class="italics">never</em><span> to see Roger again—(what a -mercy he had behaved better than she had done!)—her -innermost intention was to stay on in Unguja on -some pretext or other, in the faint hope he might -... </span><em class="italics">might</em><span> ... "do the right thing," as Ann had put it -... might marry her. If he would </span><em class="italics">only</em><span> do that her -whole remaining life should be </span><em class="italics">one long atonement</em><span> to -John. She would </span><em class="italics">never</em><span> forget him and his unselfish -love of a shallow, ungrateful woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Callaway had hinted she might like to take the -next steamer home: there was one going in a -week—back to England. But how could she go back -... and face Mrs. Baines ... and live on her parents? -John had probably no money to leave her; the Mission, -after so short a term of married life, would certainly -give her no pension ... why should it? The post of -National school-teacher at Aldermaston was long ago -filled up. And could she even resume her life there? -At no great distance was Engledene, with Lord and -Lady Silchester. Lady Silchester she vaguely dreaded -as a person who might mock at her.—She must have -heard something about her from Captain Brentham. -What—what—</span><em class="italics">what</em><span> was she to do? Insist on -remaining out in Africa and rejoin the Mission? And -work under Ann? The thought of the altered circumstances -repelled her. Who would care </span><em class="italics">now</em><span> if she were -ill? She had had several illnesses and many fits of -malaise—and tears of self-pity now ran down her -cheeks. And how </span><em class="italics">good</em><span> and </span><em class="italics">uncomplaining</em><span>——here -choking sobs, hiccups, almost a loud wailing -intervened—dear John had been. The cups of broth he had -brought to her bedside, the little meals to tempt her -appetite.... And Roger? ... The equal solicitude—the -interest </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> had shown, even in her whims!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The realization of her bereavement kept Callaway -from intruding on her solitude, even by a message -through Halima. This was a mercy, she thought—at -first—because however well-meaning, he struck her -fastidiousness as "common," not very attractive in -appearance, with a harsh voice, and effluent piety, and -bad table manners.... But need Halima have been -quite so neglectful? Halima latterly was so wrapped -up in the project of marrying the Goanese cook that -she unhesitatingly neglected her mistress and avowed -her complete readiness to enter the Roman Church if -that act could remove Antonio da Silva e Andrade's -last scruple of reluctance to wed with a Negress. She -spent much of her time oiling and combing her fuzzy -hair into a European coiffure, and did not hesitate to -"borrow" details of Lucy's scanty wardrobe for her -own adornment. When she came with Lucy's meals -into the hot ... </span><em class="italics">hot</em><span> ... </span><em class="italics">hot</em><span> bedroom, with its -dreadful insect swarms, from which the iron bedstead, -with its lowered mosquito curtain, was almost the only -refuge, she—Halima—bore a sulky face. She -would evidently </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> stay with Lucy in misfortune....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One way and another, Lucy was fretting and -worrying herself into a state of illness; afraid to go out or -to show herself; loathing life in this low-ceilinged, -vermin-infested bedroom, hot by day, stifling at night, -as she lay inside the mosquito netting in the blackest -darkness, shuddering at the possibilities beyond the -bed. Rats romped and squeaked and occasionally fell -from the rafters into the sagging mosquito net; -scorpions, no doubt, were lurking in the crevices of the -floor-boards to sting her toes if she stepped out of the -insufferably hot bed. Cockroaches alternated their -love-flights from the window with frantic and wily -attempts to get under the curtain. Mosquitoes, all the -night through, kept up a sonorous diapason of -unbroken humming, indignant at being denied access to -her body. And the loneliness! Halima was supposed -to sleep on the landing outside; a polite supposition -which Lucy was unwilling to test, lest inquiry should -lead to a defiant withdrawal from her service.... -Her service! Where were Halima's wages to come from?</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was ten a.m.—more or less. Lucy had risen, -washed hurriedly, and hurriedly put on the only clean -cotton dress left to her. (She really must go out one -day and buy some things for the voyage—only where -was the money?) The door was thrown open by an -excited, more amiable Halima, who shouted "</span><em class="italics">Yupo -Bibi Balosi</em><span>! Anakuita!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A pleasant, high-bred voice explained:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am looking for Mrs. Baines. Is she in here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy scrambled off the bed from under the mosquito -curtain and stood before Lady Dewburn, the -Consul-General's wife....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Broken apologies ... explanations—"Bed only -place where you could be tolerably free from -mosquitoes...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Dewburn is a handsome shrewd-looking -woman of middle age. She wears a single eyeglass at -times, for greater precision of sight, and because she is -the daughter of a permanent official. But though she -inspires a certain awe, she is in reality a kind creature, -irresistibly impelled to interfere—she hopes for the -best—in other people's affairs, especially out here. -Her children are either out in the world or at school in -England, and she is exceedingly bored on this feverishly -tropical, gloriously squalid island. The day before -she had heard all about Lucy from Captain Brentham....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Lady Dewburn</em><span>: "My </span><em class="italics">poor</em><span> child! </span><em class="italics">Please</em><span> overlook -all formalities and come away with me, </span><em class="italics">just as -you are</em><span>. Your woman here—if you can trust -her—shall pack up what you have—you can't have </span><em class="italics">much</em><span>, -I should think, after that </span><em class="italics">appalling</em><span> journey to the -coast.... Come away with me.... Why, you must -have hardly </span><em class="italics">any</em><span> clothes to wear! I don't </span><em class="italics">wonder</em><span> -you stop in bed! We've got lots of spare rooms—as -a matter of fact, Sir Godfrey and I are alone just -now. Come and stay with us till you can look round -and make your plans. It seems to me as though I -ought to put you to bed for a week to begin with...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy's acceptance of this Fairy Godmother proposal -dissolved from words into gulping sobs and convulsive -eye-dabbings and nose-blowing. But she was practical -enough to find her sola topi and white umbrella, to -make her cotton dress look a little tidier, and gasp a -few directions in Swahili to the over-awed Halima. -Halima was wearing Lucy's evening "fichu" all the -time and was uneasily conscious of having blundered -into felony through ill-timed contempt for her lady.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy observed none of this, but followed Lady -Dewburn's fastidious steps down the stairs of palm -planks out into the yard, where Mr. Callaway—really -a very decent sort, who after all had done his best for -Lucy—was awaiting them. He was personally -gratified and relieved in his mind that the first lady in -Unguja should have taken his forlorn little client under -her wing. After picking their way with skirts lifted -high through narrow unsavoury lanes between high -blank houses, they at last reached Unguja's one broad -highway. Here was a handsomely appointed carriage, -and in it they rolled away to the Agency.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="lucy-s-second-marriage"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">LUCY'S SECOND MARRIAGE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics">From Sir Godfrey Dewburn, K.C.I.E., to Mr. Bennet -<br />Molyneux, African Department, Foreign Office.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>H.M. Agency and Consulate-General,</span></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Unguja,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">March</em><span> 15, 1889.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAR MOLYNEUX,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the matter of Brentham, I think a private -letter to you might meet the case better than an -exchange of cables or an official dispatch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I quite understand your Department is annoyed at -the questions put in Parliament last month after the -news about the deaths at the Mission station at -Hangodi. But I cannot help thinking the Department is -disposed to be too hard on Brentham, as though it -were prejudiced from some other quarter than me. I -admit when I first came out here I jibbed a little at his -cocksureness, his assumption that no one knew -anything about Ungujan affairs to compare with his own -knowledge; and it seemed to me he made rather a -parade about the number of languages he had acquired, -which contrasted unfavourably with my acquaintance—then—with -only three (I have tried since to learn -Swahili). And so on and so on. I moved easier and -got my bearings better when I had sent him over to -his proper sphere, the mainland. I also thought his -contempt for the Bazzards a little too marked, though -I must admit subsequently my wife and I have found -that a little of Mrs. B. goes a long way. But I hate -writing disagreeable things about anybody—a climate -like this excuses hair-dye, face-powder, irritability and -even a moderate degree of illicit love (don't treat this -as official!) ... But about Brentham: if his mission -to the missionaries—telling them to clear out before -the Arab danger—</span><em class="italics">was</em><span> a failure, in that in most places -there was no danger, </span><em class="italics">your</em><span> apprehensions and </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> -instructions were to blame for starting Brentham off on -his wild-goose chase. The missionaries in Usagara -seem to cut up rough because they weren't attacked, -were "quittes pour la peur." But that was hardly -Brentham's fault.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Hangodi business is a different matter. There -is little doubt in my mind that B. was a little spoony -on Mrs. Baines—They had travelled out together, -and it seems she comes from near his part of the world -in Berkshire-Hampshire—Jolly district, near the -Carnarvons and the Silchesters.—Ever go there to -shoot? But Mrs. Baines had been ill from one of these -confinements that Missionary ladies—married, of -course—have so regularly, and her husband seems -really to have wished his wife to go away with -Brentham. To make it all right and proper he packed off -at the same time the other woman at their station, a -strong-minded female named Jamblin. (She figures -very much in the dispatches I sent home last -mail.) Well: according to Brentham, this Jamblin woman, -when they had done a few marches and stopped at -another Mission station, insisted, positively </span><em class="italics">insisted</em><span> on -going back to Hangodi, and equally insisted on </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> -taking Mrs. Baines to the coast. He oughtn't to have -agreed. That's where he was weak. He ought to -have returned to Hangodi and helped to beat off the -attack—if it came, as it did—and then have refused -to take the ladies away unless the men came too. -Instead of that, Brentham, having found some missionaries -of whom he was in search, hung about their place -until the news of the attack on Hangodi and the death -of Mrs. Baines's husband reached him. After that he -made for the coast by the northern route, the only one -open to him at that time without fighting. Even -on this route they had some most extraordinary -adventures and spent a devil of a time before they -got back to civilization—as we call ourselves by -contrast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The general opinion among the missionaries, I know, -is unfavourable to Mrs. Baines, and in consequence to -Brentham. But Brentham swears to me on his -honour—</span><em class="italics">and I believe him</em><span>—there was nothing "wrong" -between them. Jennie—my wife—says he's as -straight as a die; though never having seen a "die," I -can't say. At any rate, Jennie, on whose judgment I -always rely, has taken a great liking to Brentham. So -she has also to the young party with whom he has -become involved, this Mrs. John Baines. The poor -girl—she doesn't look her age—26—was stranded -here at their Mission Depôt, and Jennie, after hearing -about her, went over in her impulsive way and brought -her to the Agency. This has put a stopper on local -gossip, which has thus been deprived of a rare morsel -that would otherwise have acted as a real tonic on a -fever-stricken community. Now Jennie says that -although there's never been anything between them but -what was right and proper, they ought to marry as -soon as six months is up from the death of the first -husband—which we presume took place on October -29th, from the accounts of that masterful person who -now calls herself Ann Anderson. Jennie had but to -make the suggestion and they both consented, so the -civil marriage—the only legal one here—is fixed for -March 31. Whether Archdeacon Gravening will -consent to marry them at the Cathedral in addition, I -cannot say. He is thinking it over. The matter has been -speeded up by your intimation that the F.O. intends to -recall Brentham. If he went back and didn't marry -her, things would go hardly with Mrs. Baines. (I -really have taken a liking to her, and I could imagine -when she gets to a good climate she might be quite -pretty. She is very quiet, and in a quiet way is rather -entertaining in her accounts of what they went through -in their wild journey to the coast.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well: when the wedding is over, I propose breaking -to him the F.O. instructions to return and give an -account of himself. I must give him just enough time -to go over to the mainland and try to settle things at -his Consulate there. The Spencer Bazzards—who -have a down on him—report that an utter muddle -followed his departure for the interior last September, -and accuse his Indian clerk of embezzling Consular -funds, and, worse still, of selling the office cipher code -to the Germans. This, if true, is a confounded -nuisance, as it will oblige us to make changes all round. -Fortunately it is only Cipher Q.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I suppose you know Captain Wissmann has arrived -at Medina at the head of a force of over a thousand -picked men to fight the Arabs to a finish? Other -German officers have met him there with further -contingents—Zulus and Makua. Wissmann's people are -mainly Sudanese. I suppose we have done right in -enabling him to raise this force on what is practically -British territory—British or Portuguese? I like -Wissmann personally. After all—as Brentham says—if -we hadn't the pluck to take all East Africa for -ourselves at the time we were first challenged by -Bismarck, it is better that the German share should be -properly controlled and not fall back into a state of -anarchy and slave-raiding. But, of course, what ties -our hands in all these matters is the intense desire of -France to raise the Egyptian question to our -disadvantage.—Therefore, don't think I am girding at the -Office for irresolution. The French here make my life -a burden to me with their intrigues....</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Yours sincerely,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>GODFREY DEWBURN.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics">From Lucy Brentham to Mrs. Albert Josling, Church -<br />Farm, Aldermaston.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Mbweni,</span></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Unguja,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">April</em><span> 2, 1889.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>DARLING MOTHER,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I expect you got my letter written early in January -after I had got back to Unguja. The news must have -come to you as an awful shock. And what it has been -to Mrs. Baines I dare not </span><em class="italics">think</em><span>. I expect I shall get -some sort of answer from you in a day or two when the -mail comes in. But as there is a steamer going -to-morrow I dash off this letter to give you other news: -</span><em class="italics">good</em><span> news this time, dearest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was married on March 31st last to Captain Roger -Brentham, the Consul for the Mainland. You know -all about him from my letters. It is true it is only a -little more than six months since poor John died, and -some people will think it much too soon afterwards -to marry again, but you and Father will understand. -Roger is shortly going home.—</span><em class="italics">Think</em><span> of it, darling -mother! We are going—or should one say, "we are -coming"?—HOME. I put it in capitals. He has -wanted to marry me ever since we knew of John's -death. We both feel sure John would think it the -wisest thing to do, even Ann Jamblin does. Well, -Roger being called back by the Foreign Office, he could -hardly leave me behind here and if he hadn't asked me -to marry him I couldn't have stopped here all by -myself, unless I had joined some missionary society. And -that I didn't feel inclined to do. I don't think I'm -suited for the work. But don't think I want </span><em class="italics">to run -down</em><span> the Missionaries. Far from it, after all I've -seen. Mission work quite changed John. It made -him so </span><em class="italics">good</em><span> and </span><em class="italics">unselfish</em><span>. And although I've many -reasons for feeling sore and angry about Ann Jamblin -that was.—She isn't dead, but she's married in a sort -of a way to that Ebenezer Anderson of our Mission.—Well, -even Ann is twice the woman she was in old days -at Tilehurst. They call her here—at least, the local -paper does—It's run by an Eurasian—I'll tell you -some day what Eurasian means ... they call her -"The Heroine of Hangodi." I believe somebody is -going to write about her in the English papers; and -the German commander on the mainland, Captain -Wissmann—has sent her his compliments, and said he -can always admire a brave woman no matter what her -nationality. Isn't it all funny when we think of what -she was like at school and how greedy she used to be -at the prayer-meetings? There is a missionary couple -here—I've mentioned them in my other letters, -Mr. and Mrs. Stott. You can't </span><em class="italics">think</em><span> how good they've -been to me. I've got lots and lots and lots to tell you -when we meet. But I must be quick and finish this -letter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well: I was married to my darling Roger last -Wednesday, and if it wasn't every now and then that -I think about poor John I should be the happiest -woman alive. Mother, I've </span><em class="italics">always</em><span> loved him since -that first morning we met on the steamer and he -pointed out the Isle of Wight, and then took such care -of me all through the voyage. And he says he fell in -love with me the same time. Isn't that </span><em class="italics">wonderful</em><span> -when you think of all the great ladies he has seen, many -of them I'm sure in love with him. When I asked him -why, he just kissed me and said it was my violet eyes -and my look of utter helplessness. But I feel it is </span><em class="italics">too -sacred</em><span> to talk or write about. I was always a true wife -to poor John. People may think and say what they -like. There is a horrid old cat here on the Mainland, -who also travelled out with me. I'm sure she says and -writes horrid things about me. It's only jealousy. -But even now, Mother, I haven't told you almost the -most wonderful thing of all! I did just say in my last -letter how I'd gone to stay with the wife of the -Consul-General. It happened this way. When we first -landed here from one of those dreadful Arab sailing-boats -that are full of what you </span><em class="italics">will</em><span> call B flats but -what I think—and so does Roger—it is much more -sensible to call "bugs" straight out—when we -landed Roger said, "You'd better go to Mr. Callaway -and stay there first till I can find out what it's best to -do for you." So there I went, and I was just </span><em class="italics">miserable</em><span>. -I didn't like to tell you how much at the time -for fear of its upsetting you. I really felt almost like -committing suicide, only I should never do anything so -wicked. But there I lay, inside my mosquito curtain in -a room like a Turkish bath, crying, </span><em class="italics">crying</em><span> to myself -about poor John and thinking I should never see Roger -again, and what Mrs. Baines would say when I came -back all alone; when in walked Lady Dewburn, the wife -of the Consul-General—"my boss"—as Roger calls -him. She would have it that I was to go away with -her then and there. Mother, I'd hardly any clothes -after that dreadful journey; that was one reason I felt -ashamed to go out. Well, she put me in a lovely cool -bedroom at the top of her house.—It has a flat roof -and I used so to enjoy walking out of my room and -looking at the sea and the natives down below and the -ships and palms. She had my meals sent up to me and -often came up herself to inquire, and for a week she -got Indian tailors to cut out and sew clothes for me to -wear. When they were ready I had got quite well -again, and then she brought me down and introduced -me to her husband, who is the great man of this place. -</span><em class="italics">He</em><span> used rather to make fun of me, tease me you know, -but he was kind under it all. Mother, if I'd been </span><em class="italics">their -own daughter</em><span> they couldn't have treated me kinder. -She wouldn't let me thank her, said I was a distressed -British subject and it was her duty. And after I'd -been staying with them about six weeks and was -beginning to say I ought to earn my living or else go -home, she said, wouldn't you as an alternative like to -marry Roger Brentham? And I said, He'd never ask -me and if he did I should only spoil his career. And -she said, </span><em class="italics">Nonsense</em><span>. And the next day, when they had -both gone out driving, Roger came to the room where -I was working with Halima (who, strange to say, has -married his cook!) and asked me to be his wife. How -could I say anything but "yes"? I know now I -should have died of consumption or something if he -hadn't. But of course I said—"It can't be till poor -John has been dead a year." Then that evening when I -told Lady Dewburn, she said, "Nonsense! I can see -no reason why it shouldn't be at the end of March. -Then if Captain Brentham has to go home you can -return with him." So, of course, I gave in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I'm afraid it'll make lots of people angry, especially -Mrs. Baines. How can we break it to her?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There are a </span><em class="italics">thousand</em><span> other things I can tell you, but -if I don't finish this letter now I shan't be in time to -put it in the Agency mail-bag, which I always think is -so much safer than the ordinary post, and I don't have -to stamp it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So in a few more weeks darling mother you will meet -again</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Your own</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>LUCY.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>P.S. Love to father and the dear girls. </span><em class="italics">Do</em><span> see -what you can do with Mrs. Baines. I feel </span><em class="italics">so</em><span> sorry for -her, and I should so like to tell her about John. -Things might have been so different if only my little -baby had lived, John felt it </span><em class="italics">dreadfully</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Private and Confidential.</span></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>H.M. Agency and Consulate-General,</span></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Unguja,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">April</em><span> 2.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAR BAZZARD,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I take advantage of a British steamer which is -crossing to-day to Medina to send you this hurried -note.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Your colleague, Captain Brentham, was married on -March 31 to Mrs. John Baines, the widow of the poor -fellow who was killed at Hangodi. Brentham will -probably be returning to England very shortly on -leave of absence (I understood from you you were -willing to postpone your leave for a few months). -Before he goes I have asked him to co-operate with you -in getting affairs at the Medina Consulate settled up -satisfactorily, so that you may formally take over from -him and be Acting Consul there till there are further -developments. I am very grateful to you and -Mrs. Bazzard for stepping into the breach caused by these -confounded disturbances which have not only occurred -in the German hinterland but are now beginning in -ours—so we mustn't boast too soon!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Brentham had to leave, as you know, very hurriedly -last September, and if the Arabs had succeeded in -taking the town matters would have been ever so much -worse than they are. He says if there turns out really -to be any deficit in the cash due to the embezzlement -of the Indian clerk—if he did embezzle—but </span><em class="italics">what</em><span> -has become of him? Was he killed?—he is willing -to make it good out of his own pocket. (Rather hard -on him as he could not help leaving this man in charge; -but I may come in like a benevolent arbiter if the -affair is serious.) The loss or disappearance of the office -cipher is a serious business—very—. I don't see -what good it would be retrieving it from the Germans, -as, if they </span><em class="italics">have</em><span> had it at all in their possession, they -have probably derived from it all the information they -want!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whilst Brentham is over at Medina I want him to -have an interview with the German commandant, -Captain Wissmann, as he can convey to him a message -from me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I hope Mrs. Bazzard continues well? She has -certainly shown she can stand the climate. But we -mustn't try her </span><em class="italics">too</em><span> far.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Sincerely yours ...</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>GODFREY DEWBURN.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When this letter reached Spencer Bazzard he took it -promptly to his wife, who was seated before her -dressing-table rubbing a little of the "hair-restorer" into -the very roots of her hair, which had an exasperating -way of not starting gold from the skin-level. She -said, keeping her eyes fixed on the glass, "Read it -aloud." He did so. "Hooray," she exclaimed, with -ordered joy so as not to interfere with the delicate -operation—they were going out to dine that night -with a German functionary—"Hooray! That means -he's scuppered. He's going home, you bet, rather off -colour. They've made him marry her to placate the -missionaries. But he'll never bother us again out here. -Well, we'll be civil to him in the clearing up."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics">From Captain Roger Brentham to Lady Silchester.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Mbweni, Unguja,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">April</em><span> 2, 1889.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>DEAR SIBYL,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I don't think you have any realization of what I've -been through lately or you'd have written to inquire, -or condole, or encourage. I've had a regular -"gaffe"—tell you more about it by and bye. And a -wonderful journey in the interior worthy of a Royal -Geographical Society's medal—tell you more about </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> -too some day—and—don't start—I've got married!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You always predicted I should marry a -"missionaryess." Well: I've done so. Yes, you were right, -true Sibyl that you are. I've married the dear little -girl—for so she seems to me—whom I escorted out -to Unguja three years ago and whom I married myself -to her young missionary husband, who was going to a -station in the interior called Hangodi. There followed -a tragic time. I dare say the newspapers will have -told you all about it. She and I got locked up, so to -speak, in the far interior and I never thought she, at -any rate, would get to the coast alive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well: I felt after all we'd gone through together -there was only one thing—the right thing—to do, -being also very much in love with her. Lady Dewburn -(you know whom I mean) thought precisely the same; -and Lady Dewburn, let me say, is about the </span><em class="italics">best</em><span> woman -I know. I shall </span><em class="italics">never</em><span> forget what she did for my poor -Lucy. Dewburn performed the civil ceremony for us -and gave a small and quiet wedding breakfast after the -"small and quiet" wedding at the Cathedral. My old -friend Gravening ("the Venble. Archdeacon") was -awfully nice about the whole thing ... fully approved -of my marrying Lucy, under all the sad circumstances, -and said he'd fix up the religious part. Because you -know what women are. They never think they've -been properly married unless it's in a Church or if -they do, their mothers don't.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I know I've got some rough places to get over before -I can settle down to work and go full steam ahead, but -I look to you and other true friends, real pals—to pull -me through. The F.O. seems to have a down on me -and a proportion of the Mission World likewise. But -when they hear the whole story they will see I was -simply dogged with misfortune and did all I could possibly -have done. Unfortunately while I was away in the -interior everything went to pieces at my Consulate, and -two awful bounders—the Bazzards, more about them -when we meet—are exploiting it to the utmost.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I am going back to the mainland after a week's -holiday to get things put right at the Consulate. Hope I -shan't take Bazzard by the throat, or lose my temper -with his Bayswater wife. I simply </span><em class="italics">mustn't</em><span>. Well: -when I have done all that and left the Bazzards -properly installed I take the next steamer back with Lucy. -Two years, nearly, have I been out here, and six -months' leave on full pay is due to me. I am going -home nominally to report. Wonder whether they will -send me back? In any case I look to you, dear Cousin -and friend, to give me a helping hand—not so much -about Consular matters—I feel there if common -justice is dealt out I can stand on my own—but as -regards little Lucy. Her father's status and that of my -father are not very different, when you come to look -at it, except that Josling is probably a much more -useful member of the community. But she may want a -helping hand when we come home, if we are asked out -and about. Of course, with her extraordinary African -experience behind her she will be quite as interesting -to meet as a Lady Baker, a Miss Gordon Cumming, or -Isabella Bird——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I've written a short note to good old Maud and a still -shorter one to the Pater. Rather rough on a man -after only two days of honeymoon to have to sit down -and compose all these epistles, even though it is in a -tropical paradise like Mbweni—but with the thermometer -at ninety something in the shade. I am sure -Maud will take to Lucy; not so sure about you. You -have become so grand. As to the Pater, he'll hardly -pay much attention to us unless we could consent to be -buried at Silchester and excavated by him! Maud -wrote some time ago to say his neglect of his Church -work for excavation of Roman sites was becoming such -a scandal that they'd had to engage a curate for Farleigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And that the curate hadn't been there two months -before he had proposed to her, been refused, and then -settled down to a "filial" manner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How is Silchester? It's getting on for a year since -I had a letter from you; but I saw in a recent -newspaper he'd been down with influenza but was "making -good progress." That always reads ominously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Look out for me sometime in May. I hope I shall -be as welcome as the flowers of that same. I'm bringing -you home some leopard skins and an African rattle -for Clitheroe. So long!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>ROGER.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A week after these letters were put in the Consular -mail-bag, Roger had packed up and was waiting for a -gun-boat to convey him across to the mainland—where -he was to have an important interview with -Captain Wissmann, fresh from a great victory over -the Arabs. Sir Godfrey, taking leave of him, said: -"Looked at the Reuters this morning?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "No! What's up?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sir Godfrey</em><span>: "Your friend Lord Silchester is dead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Phew!" said Roger, or as near as he could get -to that conventional exclamation of surprise and -speculation as to what might have been....</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-england"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">IN ENGLAND</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Captain and Mrs. Brentham arrived in London -from East Africa at the end of May, 1889. You -must picture Brentham with a reserve of savings of -about five hundred pounds lying to his credit at Cocks's, -and a salary at the rate of seven hundred a year which -will go on till some time in October. After much -consideration and discussion during the voyage they have -taken a furnished flat on the eighth floor of Hankey's -Mansions, St. James's Park, as having a better -address—"being close to the Government offices and the -clubs, don't you know, and of course if you have the -lift going night and day it don't matter whether you're -on the first or the eighth floor, to say nothing of the -view." Lucy had timidly suggested Pardew's Family -Hotel in Great Ormond Street as being very cheap for -relations of Aunt Ellen, but Roger with that wistful -snobbishness of his class decided it would be rather a -come-down to hail from the West Central part of -London when you were wishing to impress the Foreign -Office favourably; so Hankey's it was, with lots of -sunlight, superb views over the Park and the barrack -ground with its military challenges and cries.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Molyneux's room at the Foreign Office.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Brentham! Thought you'd soon be turning -up. Dewburn's been writing to me about you.... -Have a cigar? There are the matches. Well. -Horrid thing to say, when a man's only just arrived, but -you've stirred up a reg'lar hornet's nest among the -unco' guid. This confounded Nonconformist -Conscience that Stead's invented or created. There's an -obvious reference to you in the last </span><em class="italics">Review of Reviews</em><span> -and Labby's put a very caustic article in last week's -</span><em class="italics">Truth</em><span>, trying to get at the Government's East African -policy through you. All this has mightily upset the -Old Man——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger endeavours to give a lucid and not too lengthy -account of the whole sequence of events which led up -to his marriage at Unguja; expresses the most justly-felt -wrath against the mosquitoes of the Press; offers -to horsewhip them or have them up before a court of -law....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Molyneux</em><span>: "My </span><em class="italics">dear</em><span> fellow, what </span><em class="italics">are</em><span> you talking -about? You'd simply do for yourself and have to quit -the career. First place, horsewhipping's out of -date—dam' low, in any case—in the second, there's -nothing </span><em class="italics">libellous</em><span> in what they've written—only general -application, don't you know. If you took any action -on it you'd just dot the </span><em class="italics">i</em><span>'s and cross the </span><em class="italics">t</em><span>'s and get -laughed at. And as to what they say in Parliament, -can't call them into court over </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>. No. Best leave -it alone. </span><em class="italics">Most</em><span> unfortunate. Dare say not a </span><em class="italics">bit</em><span> your -fault. Still I think you might have been a trifle more -prudent, not—so to speak—have run your head into -the noose. </span><em class="italics">Quite</em><span> agree with Dewburn you've done the -</span><em class="italics">right</em><span> thing in marrying her....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well: so much for that. Now how about this -missing cipher? Not sure </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> don't upset us a bit -more than your carryings-on with missionary -ladies...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger: "But I </span><em class="italics">didn't</em><span> carry on—I—I—really -must protest against these assumptions——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Molyneux</em><span>: "</span><em class="italics">All</em><span> right. Keep your hair on.... -Don't get into a wax.... I'm only talkin' for your -own good.... But tell us about this cipher."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span> (still with an angry flush): "What </span><em class="italics">can I</em><span> -tell? I arrive at Medina and am told all in a hurry to -re-organize the Consulate there. There was no one -but an Indian clerk in charge. I simply take him over. -I put my cipher in the safe, but I had to leave the key -with the clerk when at very short notice I started for -up-country to warn these confounded missionaries.... -Wish to </span><em class="italics">God</em><span> I'd paid no heed to your instructions" -("I </span><em class="italics">say</em><span>, old chap, draw it mild ... and mind -what you're doin' with that cigar-ash." Roger strides -to the fireplace and throws away the cigar into it.) -"I wish to God," he continues, "I'd left 'em alone to -stand the racket if the Arabs </span><em class="italics">did</em><span> come. However, -what I mean to say is, I only set out to do what I was -told to do and couldn't foresee how long it would take. -I didn't get back to my Consulate till last April. </span><em class="italics">How</em><span> -can I tell what happened to the clerk or the cipher or -the money? I paid up the deficit.... How do I -know what those Bazzards were up to? Mrs. Bazzard——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Molyneux</em><span> (his manner has insensibly become stiffer -and more ceremonious): "I think we'll leave the -Bazzards out of it. At any rate they aren't here to -defend themselves. We must refer the whole matter to -Dewburn for inquiry. Meantime here you are on leave -and I dare say badly wanting a rest. My advice is: -go down to the country.... Your father lives in the -country, doesn't he?" (Roger nods.) "Well, go -down and rusticate a bit and take Mrs. Brentham with -you. In a week or two the newspapers and the -Nonconformist Conscience will be in full cry after -something else. As to whether you should go back, we -must leave that to the Old Man. He may think a -change of scene advisable. Any use asking you to -a bachelor dinner? My wife's out of town just now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger (</span><em class="italics">very</em><span> unwisely, scenting in this a reluctance -to ask Lucy too): "No, thank you. I think I'll take -your advice and go off to the country. Ungrateful -sort of country—I mean the nation—mine is! Here -I've made most important discoveries I've had no time -to report on, I've ... I've ..." (Feelings too -much for him. Takes his hat and stick, bows to -Molyneux and leaves his room.) In all this he has acted -most foolishly. If he'd gone to Molyneux's—to -"Good old Spavins's"—as the clerks called him in the -room opposite—bachelor dinner, had told a few good -stories and hunting adventures, Molyneux, who really -had his kindly side like most men, would have -forgotten the old grudge about his intrusive appointment, -have taken a much more charitable view about the lost -cipher and the hasty marriage and have written a memo -for Lord Wiltshire's eye which would have suggested a -year's employment at home and a fresh start in East -Africa. Mrs. Molyneux would have called on -Mrs. Brentham at Hankey's and Mrs. Brentham would have -been pronounced by Molyneux "a dam' good-lookin' -wench—don't wonder she turned his head a bit—there -can't have been much to look at in East Africa"—and -Brentham's difficulties were over; and the whole -fate of East Africa might have been a little different. -As it was, he wrote some such memo as this for the -information of the Under-Secretary of State: "Saw -Brentham to-day—from Zangia Consulate, East -Africa. Looks rather fagged. Evidently had a rough -time. But very angry when asked to explain the -awkward circumstances of his very protracted journey -through the interior with the lady who is now his wife. -He protested with much heat against the attacks of the -Press and the attitude of the Missionary Societies. I -dare say he is a maligned man, but I should also say he -is what we call in diplomacy 'un mauvais coucheur.' Difficult -to get on with, quarrelsome with colleagues. -He could throw no light on the loss of his cipher. Did -not seem to realize what trouble and expense it has -caused. He has six months' leave of absence due. -Suggest when that is coming to an end he be offered -some Consular post in Norway or Algeria."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger called at 6A, Carlton House Terrace, but was -told by the man-servant opening the door that Lady -Silchester and the little Lord Silchester were still in -the country, at Engledene, and that it was improbable -her Ladyship would be in town again until the autumn, -being in deep mourning. Roger scribbled on his card -(which would be sent on with other cards of calling -and polite inquiries):</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So much want to see you. Starting to-morrow -for Church Farm, Aldermaston.—ROGER."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger delivered his blushing wife, rather overdressed -(for he had insisted on a fashionable outfit), to -her parents at Aldermaston; he shook hands heartily -with his father-in-law to whom he took an immediate -liking, kissed his mother-in-law (to her confusion) and -his sisters-in-law, and then let his father-in-law drive -him over to the nearest station from which he could -get a train to Basingstoke (for Farleigh), promising -to return in four days after he had seen his father, -sister, and brothers, one of them at Portsmouth. When -he did get back to Church Farm, Lucy was in bed, ill, -and his father and mother-in-law were looking grave -and preoccupied. They were also—as country -people are—a little tiresomely reticent. </span><em class="italics">What had -happened</em><span>? </span><em class="italics">This</em><span>, as he afterwards pieced it together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Mrs. Baines had received Ann Anderson's -letter—written, as you will remember, about November -30, but not posted from Unguja till early in -January—she had a knock-down blow. It is true the -Mission on the receipt of a telegram from Callaway had -warned her to expect serious news from Hangodi, but -she had not paid much attention, so convinced was she -that God must avert all harm from a son of hers. But -the letter—from Ann, too, whom she would have -welcomed as a daughter-in-law—was convincing, and for -the first few hours after she had read it twice through, -she locked herself into their joint bedroom to -Mr. Baines's great discomfiture—he might wash and sleep -where he liked. She had shouted at him through the -keyhole, in a hoarse, strangled voice he hardly -recognized as hers, that his son John was dead, killed by the -"A-rabs," no doubt with that slut of a Lucy's full -approval; and left to digest this dreadful news as best he -might. Eliza, touched to great pity and a sympathetic -sobbing over the fate of Master John, made him up a -sort of a shakedown bedroom arrangement in the -"libery," where he did his accounts....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Baines did not emerge from her fastness for a -day and a half. When she did come out she was -composed, but with such an awful look in her eyes that -no one dared offer sympathy or proffer advice. She -gave her orders in as few words as possible. She set -to work to confection the deepest mourning and pulled -the blinds down, and down they had to remain a full -week. During that week by the aid of candle-light she -wrote a good many letters—for her. Eliza, who had -to post them, for Mrs. Baines shrank from encountering -friends or acquaintances till the week was up, -noticed that some of them bore quite grand addresses: -the member for Reading, the Marquis of Wiltshire, the -Editor of the </span><em class="italics">Review of Reviews</em><span>....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How did Mrs. Baines know so soon that Lucy and -Roger had returned to England and come down to see -the Joslings at Church Farm? Why, because the -miller of Aldermaston saw the Brenthams arrive at -Aldermaston station and witnessed the greeting of -Farmer Josling—such a fine upstanding man—and -his son-in-law—just such another, only rather -sallow-like and thin; and the miller told old Mrs. Bunsby of -the general shop at Theale; and Mrs. Bunsby, wanting -badly a supply of ginger beer, for the weather was -getting warm and Oxford undergraduates sometimes -pushed their walking tours as far as the Kennet -Valley—Mrs. Bunsby walked over to </span><em class="italics">John Baines & Co.</em><span> -that very afternoon to give an order for four dozen and -mentioned the fact of "pore Master John's widow" -having come back to her home "with a noo 'usband."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The assistant who registered the order for delivery -in their next round, after Mrs. Bunsby left slipped into -Mr. Baines's "libery," and half-whispered the news of -Lucy's return. When, soon afterwards, Mrs. Baines -came into the dining-room to preside over the tea -table, he—(he looked very aged—my astral body -floating over the scene felt a twinge of pity for him; -in his own dull way he had been fond and proud of his -only son and worked to provide him with a competency—some -day)—he, with some preparatory clearing of -the throat, said: "Er ... Hrhm.... Er ... Lucy's -back, I hear...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed?" replied his wife swiftly. "Where? -Bridewell? That's where she </span><em class="italics">ought</em><span> to be...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I dare say, my dear, but she's at Church Farm, her -parents', you know.... P'raps she could tell you -something about John?..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"P'raps she could. But I won't have her name -mentioned in </span><em class="italics">this</em><span> house. </span><em class="italics">Do you understand</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Baines did, and took this intimation as final.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next day was Sunday. Mrs. Baines spent much -of the day (as she had decided she could not go to -chapel) communing in prayer with her Maker in the -bedroom fastness. Some of the prayers heard by the -frightened Eliza through the keyhole sounded more -like objurgations, and the Scripture readings were the -minatory passage directed by the Minor Prophets -against harlots and light women.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After two days of Aldermaston Lucy had quite -recovered her spirits—she had felt rather depressed at -Hankey's Mansions and not at all lightened at heart by -her week of shopping under Aunt Pardew's furtive -guidance and rather checked congratulations. On the -Monday morning she was standing with her parents -and Clara in front of the beautiful old farm house, -inhaling the scents of May, revelling with the eye over -the landscape beauty she had so often recalled to -herself in Africa. Farmer Josling had repeatedly given -expression to the pleasure he had derived from the -looks, manner, and hand-grip of his son-in-law, and -Mrs. Josling still blushed and laughed at the remembrance -of his having kissed her cheek. They could not -help the gratification of feeling that their daughter's -second marriage was into a social stratum worthy of -her looks, her superior education and their hopes for -her....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Clara, walking away to glance at the bee-hives, -called back to the group, "Here's Mrs. Baines coming -up from the road."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Instinctively the parents withdrew into the porch of -the house, leaving their daughter to meet Mrs. Baines -for the first few minutes alone, with no other listeners -to the sad story she had to tell. Lucy, like the bird -fascinated by the snake, remained where she was, her -fingers playing with a pansy she had just picked. -Mrs. Baines, all in black, with black plumes to a large -bonnet and black gloves, walked slowly and consideringly -up to the spell-bound Lucy. When she was close to -her she said: "</span><em class="italics">What ... have ... you done ... -with ... my ... son?...</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! I ... I ... haven't you heard?" stammered Lucy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I </span><em class="italics">have</em><span> heard ... and I've guessed much </span><em class="italics">more</em><span> -than I've heard.... </span><em class="italics">You ... you harlot—you -adulteress—you—you strumpet!</em><span>" roared Mrs. Baines, -who had been cooking her vengeance and -rehearsing this scene with a dictionary, during the last -twenty-four hours. And forthwith before Lucy could -reply or any one intervene she had dealt her two terrific -boxes on the ears, first on one side and then on the -other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy fell on to the pansy bed, temporarily stunned. -Mr. Josling, scarcely able at first to believe ears and -eyes, rushed out with a roar like a bull, picked up -Mrs. Baines round her iron stays, as though she weighed no -more than a wisp, ran round to the other side of the -house where there was a great horse trough full of -water, and soused in this the head and huge plumed -bonnet of the angry woman. And again, giving her -time to catch her breath, he plunged her head and -bonnet beneath the water. Then, standing her on her -feet, he said, "</span><em class="italics">There! that'll</em><span> cool your hot blood. -That is some return for your half-killing my -daughter—you </span><em class="italics">blasted she-tiger, you</em><span> ... Be </span><em class="italics">off</em><span>! Or I'll -set the dogs on you.... I'll..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father, </span><em class="italics">dear</em><span>," said Clara, crying for pity and rage -over the hapless Lucy, yet careful of appearances: -"Father </span><em class="italics">dear, don't</em><span> shout so! For goodness' sake, let -the old witch go, and don't attract everybody's -attention. What ever </span><em class="italics">will</em><span> the neighbours think! Here!" -she said, thrusting on Mrs. Baines the umbrella she had -brought and dropped on the garden path at the moment -of the assault, "be off with you, you wicked old -woman. It's a mercy father ain't killed you, he's that -strong. And if you've done any real harm to my -sister, we'll soon let you know and have you up before -the courts, you </span><em class="italics">wicked old snivelling psalm-singin' -Methody</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Baines said nothing to this counter-attack. -She drained the water from her plumes with her -fingers, put her flopping bonnet as straight as was -possible, pressed the water from her shoulders, and made -some attempt to wipe her face with a handkerchief; -and then, summoning all her strength and resolution -(for in reality she was much shaken and near collapse), -she walked firmly past them, uttering never a word, -walked slowly down the garden path, turned to the -right and contrived not to halt on her way back to the -station till she was well out of their sight. They were -a little over-awed by her dignity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was decided—and Lucy when she could speak -implored them to adopt this negative course—not to -write to Roger, and as far as possible not to talk of this -painful scene to any neighbour. But to keep it from -country gossip was an impossibility. This, that, or -the other farm servant had seen it, from the rafters of -a barn in repair, from the stables, from the dairy -window; and so the treatment old Mrs. Baines had served -out to her former daughter-in-law became noised -abroad, penetrated from the kitchen and still-room of -Engledene House to its mistress's dressing-room. A -vague rumour of it even reached the African -Department of the Foreign Office and Molyneux publicly -shrugged his shoulders in Sir Mulberry Hawk's room. -The Carnarvons at Highclere heard a perversion of -it—rather a humorous one—from one of their farmer -tenants, and reconsidered their idea of asking -Brentham and Mrs. Brentham over to a week-end party to -relate some of their extraordinary experiences. The -Vicar of Farleigh Wallop realized that something of -the kind had occurred to interrupt his musings on the -arrangements of the streets in Calleva Atrebatum, and -when he drove over with Maud to make the acquaintance -of his daughter-in-law—now convalescent and -thankful to find the drum of the worst smacked ear -had not been split—he was merely coldly polite and -expressed very little interest in missionary questions. -Indeed he took no interest in Christian Missions after -700 A.D. Up to that time he reckoned—more or -less—they had been spreading the ideas of Imperial Rome, -of Roman civilization.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Roger, however, though he commented little on the -episode of the assault, and felt in every way the least -said, soonest mended, borrowed his father-in-law's -riding-horse and rode early one morning over to -Tilehurst. He entered the factory, of design, just as -Mr. Baines was about to take his seat in the office and run -his eyes over the day's orders. "Oh, don't be -alarmed!" he said to Mr. Baines, who was instinctively -about to withdraw, guessing his visitor's identity. -"I'm not a violent heathen like your wife. Sit down -and let us talk this over like sensible men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He then put the matter very plainly before Mr. Baines.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Baines, summoned by half-fearful, half-exultant -Eliza, had "locked herself in her bedroom, she -'ave an' ast me to go for the police!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you, too," said Roger to the startled Eliza, -"remain and hear what I have to say. Since your -termagant of a mistress refuses to come, you shall -repeat my words to her. You are, from what my wife -tells me, an old and trusted servant of the family" -(Eliza bridled and pleated the hem of her apron). -"When she returns to sanity, you may get a chance -of saying a word to your mistress in season, even if -her husband has not the courage to do so. Tell her -then, if she ever annoys or slanders or upsets my wife -in any way I will leave no stone unturned to punish -her. And if she appears at Church Farm or anywhere -else again with the intention of assaulting my wife I -will knock her on the head like the mad dog she is. -Now you can leave us. But I trust also to you as an -honourable woman and one who was sincerely fond of -poor John Baines, who ought never to be connected -with these hateful sayings and doings, not to chatter -about this business outside this house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Eliza did not. She was much impressed by -Brentham's appeal. The interview with John's father -even ended in a kind of reconciliation. He heard -from Brentham for the first time the whole story, so -far as it was known, of the circumstances which led -up to the attack on the station, John's death, and Lucy's -journey to the coast; of how her baby had died and how -ill she had been; of the Stotts, and of Ann Jamblin's -obstinacy. Roger purposely prolonged the interview. -It was doing the miserable father good, and was -keeping Mrs. Baines a prisoner in her bedroom just when -she wanted to be busy at house-work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maud on her return from visiting the Joslings -tightened her lips and "went for" her father as he had -never been truth-told before; so Mrs. Baines, if she -did harm to Lucy's good name and gave her nervous -system a nasty shock, also provoked good in other -directions. A disturbance of the kind seldom fails to -clear the air and create a fresher atmosphere. Maud -reproached her father bitterly with his incivility to his -eldest son's wife; with his general indifference to the -well-being of his children, his selfish absorption in his -archæological work, his unfairness to them in lavishing -on it funds which should have been their patrimony. -She even issued a sort of ultimatum: the subsidies to -the Silchester Excavation fund must cease; the curate -at Farleigh must be given his congé and the Vicar—still -able-bodied—carry out his own Church duties: -</span><em class="italics">or</em><span> she would go away and earn her own living as a -secretary or something or other. And she was at once, -and on his authority, to ask Lucy to stay—with -Roger, of course—for at least a month. He gave in. -Maud had deeper plans hidden under this surface -wrath. Roger was in difficulties with the Foreign -Office, she guessed. He had resigned from the Indian -Army. He might at any time have to forge a new -career for himself and would want a little capital to -start with. She reckoned that her father having -originally been a well-to-do man and her mother having -come to him with a substantial dowry, there ought to -be a least twelve thousand pounds to be divided -between the four of them. If that left her father almost -entirely dependent on his income—about five hundred -a year—from the twin benefices of Farleigh and -Cliddesden, that would serve him right. He had no -business to squander his children's money—as it really -was—on a work of excavation which the County or -the Nation should finance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A little repentant and more than a little rheumatic—(besides, -Roman Silchester was turning out so distressingly -Christian and so little Pompeian and Pagan)—he -agreed at any rate to look into the matter. The -letter was sent to Lucy, and she came, now quite -restored to health. She found in Maud the selfless -friend and good adviser she had long needed. All she -begged and prayed of Roger was that he might leave -her at Farleigh for a time and not frighten her and -upset her nerves by requiring of her the going out into -smart Society, where she was ever on the twitter for -fear of being questioned as to her birth and bringing-up -and the circumstances of her life in Africa.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger rather ruefully consented. Maud would -gradually cure her of her nerves and her rusticity. -Meantime he would now tackle Sibyl. Sibyl had taken -no notice of his card and call; but about three weeks -afterwards had written to Maud, picturing herself as -having now emerged from a swoon of grief and being -ready to see Roger for a </span><em class="italics">few</em><span> minutes if he would -</span><em class="italics">promise</em><span> to move gently and speak in a level voice, as -</span><em class="italics">the least thing</em><span> upset her. Pressed to be more definite, -she consented to see him—and him only—at Engledene -on a certain Wednesday afternoon at three o'clock.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>He found her in a little boudoir, which was draped -with pleated lavender-mauve cashmere and shaded to -a dim light. She was dressed in black, not having as -yet the hardihood to discard widows' weeds, still less -some diaphanous, filmy </span><em class="italics">coiffe</em><span>, some ghost of a widow's -cap. Queen Victoria was still a great power in Society -and kept Peeresses in order. If you were too daring -you might be banned at Court and then where would -your social and political influence be?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wheel up, or better still </span><em class="italics">lift</em><span> up—I can't bear the -</span><em class="italics">slightest</em><span> jar, just now—that small armchair, Roger—the -purple velvet one—and put it near enough for me -to hear and speak without effort; but not </span><em class="italics">too</em><span> near, -because I notice you have a very powerful aura. I've -only just learnt about auras, and I realize now </span><em class="italics">what</em><span> a -difference they make!..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right," said Roger, obeying these instructions, -"but what's an aura? Is it the smell of my Harris -tweeds, or do you doubt my having had a bath this -morning?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be so perfectly horrid ... and coarse.... -You never </span><em class="italics">used</em><span> to be coarse, whatever you were—I -suppose it comes from marrying a farmer's daughter; -but for the matter of that, what am </span><em class="italics">I</em><span>? My poor dear -dad is trying hard to be a farmer after spending his -best years in the Army. I didn't mean anything much -about your 'aura,' except, I suppose, that as I'm only -recently widowed all my relations with men-visitors -should be a little frigid. But I'm simply talking -nonsense to gain time, to remember what I wanted to say -to you." (A pause.) ... "Roger! Your </span><em class="italics">dreadful</em><span> -letter from that Gouging place, coming just on top of -poor Francis's death, </span><em class="italics">knocked me over</em><span>. The doctors -put it all down to Francis, of course ... I don't deny -that his death </span><em class="italics">did</em><span> upset me.... But I'd been expecting -</span><em class="italics">that</em><span> any time within the last six months.... The -doctors told me </span><em class="italics">definitely</em><span> last winter his heart was very -unsound and that he must not over-exert himself in any -way or be contraried or argued with.... </span><em class="italics">That</em><span> was -why I gave up the orange-velvet curtains and general -redecoration of the dining-room at 6A, Carlton House -Terrace—which is dingy beyond belief. I shall do it -now.... It's too early for tea ... won't you -smoke?" (Roger: "Thank you.") "Well, there's -everything on that little table.... No. Not those -ones; they've got the wee-est flavour of opium.... -Obliged to do </span><em class="italics">something</em><span> for my nerves.... Well, -now, about your Gouging letter.... I mean about -your marriage.... My </span><em class="italics">dear</em><span> Roger! </span><em class="italics">What</em><span> a </span><em class="italics">gaffe</em><span>! -I mean, how </span><em class="italics">could</em><span> you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Could I what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Ruin</em><span> your hopes and mine?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I did hope to marry Lucy ... for at least -six months before the knot was tied.... Ever since -her husband's death. So </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> hopes were fulfilled. -And as to you, I never prevented you from marrying -Lord S. So where the ruin comes in, I can't see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," wailed Sibyl, "</span><em class="italics">why</em><span> beat about the bush? -You must have known that I always hoped if anything -happened to poor Francis—and anything </span><em class="italics">might</em><span> well -have done so—after all, you or I might be in a railway -accident or break our necks out hunting. In such case -you </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> have known I </span><em class="italics">counted</em><span> on you ... I mean, -on our being happy </span><em class="italics">at last</em><span>.... Don't interrupt! ... And -just think! Francis loved me awfully. I really -</span><em class="italics">was perfectly sweet</em><span> to him and did my duty to him </span><em class="italics">in -every way</em><span>. His gratitude for that boy ... for a -direct heir! ... Well, after Clithy was born he made -his will! ... Don't be silly ... and don't joke about -things I regard almost as sacred.... I mean </span><em class="italics">Francis</em><span> -re-made his will; and left me sole guardian of the boy -and sole trustee, sole </span><em class="italics">everything</em><span>; and mistress for my -life of Engledene, and of 6A, till Clithy came of age -... and a jointure of £10,000 a year to keep them up. -Clithy has also the Silchester house which is let and -which I intend to </span><em class="italics">keep</em><span> let till he comes of age, the -moors in Scotland </span><em class="italics">and</em><span> the shooting lodge. Of course -he has the reversionary rights of </span><em class="italics">everything</em><span> after my -death. And equally of course he has fifteen thousand -a year, which I control till he is twenty-one or until he -marries....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just </span><em class="italics">think</em><span> what I could have done for you, out of -all this—if you'd </span><em class="italics">waited</em><span>! If </span><em class="italics">only</em><span> you'd waited!..." -(buries her face in the mauve silk cushions and cries a -little or pretends to). (Roger fidgets on his chair. -An exquisite little purple Sèvres clock on the white -mantelpiece ticks ... ticks ... ticks.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "Look here, Sibyl. You're altogether on -the wrong tack, believe me. You might have married -me in '86. I was quite ready then and fancied myself -in love with you. But if you had we mightn't have got -on. My seven hundred a year would have been nowhere -to give you surroundings like this...." (And -he looks round the boudoir "done" in white, lavender, -mauve and purple, with its exquisite bits of -furniture, its velvet-covered armchair and Charles II -day-bed, and pillow covers of mauve silk; and looked also -at the sinuous figure of the woman coiled on the -day-bed in her filmy black dress, with her face half buried -in the silk cushions, and one disconsolate arm lying -listlessly along her side, and at the magnificent rings -of emeralds and diamonds on the pink fingers.) "You -were </span><em class="italics">quite</em><span> right: you could </span><em class="italics">never</em><span> have stood the strain -of Africa. I'll tell you by and bye some of the things -Lucy and I went through." (At this hint of comradeship -with Lucy, the little black velvet shoes gave angry -thumps on the frame of the day-bed.) "I know," -continues Roger, "you used to throw out mysterious -hints after you were married that I might wait till -some far-off date when you were free; I mean after -Lord Silchester was dead. But what decent man -would have taken you at your word? Why, Silchester -might well be alive now. He did not die of old age...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span> (in a muffled voice): "N-no; he ... he -... didn't. He—overrated his strength. He—he—oh, -</span><em class="italics">how</em><span> can I tell you? He was so anxious to play -a great part in public affairs ... but he had lost -all his energy...." (Sitting up with flushed -cheeks—damnably good-looking, Roger feels.) "</span><em class="italics">Well</em><span>! -What can I do for you? You've failed </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>. But I -suppose you've come here to ask me to help you in some -way. Men don't generally waste their time on -afternoon calls without a motive. What is it? I've got -no influence anywhere since Francis died" (a sob). -"So it's no good asking </span><em class="italics">me</em><span> to write to Lord Wiltshire -or to Spavins. I hear you are out of favour at the -F.O. It's not </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> fault, is it? It's all due to your -gallivanting after missionaries' wives...." (Roger -looks sullen.) ... "Heigh ho! I expect with all this -crying and tousling among cushions, to hide I </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> -crying from your cynical eyes, I'd better go into my -room and bathe my face before the butler brings in -the tea.... </span><em class="italics">There!</em><span> you can pull up two of the -blinds—when I am gone—my eyes are so red—and you -can look at some of my new books till I come in to -make the tea. You mustn't </span><em class="italics">dream</em><span> of going before -we've had tea and finished our talk."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"I suppose," said Sibyl a quarter of an hour later -when they were discussing tea and tea-cake and -pâté-de-foie sandwiches and assorted cakelets, "what you -really came to ask was would I present this Lucy-pucy -of yours at Court. But, my </span><em class="italics">dear</em><span>, I shall be in -mourning for a year, and the Queen——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Lord</em><span> no! Such a thing never entered my head. -It would scare Lucy into fits. I hope before next -season comes round I shall be back in Africa—or -somewhere. So far as I connected Lucy with this visit I -might have intended to ask you to let me bring her here -one day, and for you to be kind to her ... not -frighten her, as you very well could do, pretending all -the time to be her best friend...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span>: "Well: I'll tell you what you shall do. -You must remember I'm in mourning, of course.... -We always have to think of what the servants will say.... -And—ah! Did I tell you? Aunt Christabel is -here. I sent her out the longest drive I could think -of, so that we might have our afternoon alone; still, -she's staying here till I emerge from the deepest of -my mourning.... By the bye she's </span><em class="italics">horrified</em><span> at your -marriage, just as she used to be horrified at the idea of -your marrying </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>.... Well, bring your Lucy over -one day at the end of July and I'll just have a look at -her. And then, in the autumn—say October—you -and she, and of course if you like to have them, Maurice -and Geoffrey too, could come here for the shooting. -</span><em class="italics">Of course</em><span> I shan't have a regular party; but somebody -must come and shoot the pheasants. The Queen -couldn't object to that. I've asked a man—I did -before Francis's death—to come. You might like to -meet him: a Sir Willowby Patterne.... Dare say -you've heard of him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "I've heard no </span><em class="italics">good</em><span> of him...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, what tittle-tattlers and scandal-mongers you -men are! I think he's so amusing, and every one says -he's a splendid shot.... However, we will make up -just a </span><em class="italics">tiny</em><span> party and you and Lucy shall entertain for -me. I shall purposely be very little seen and shall give -out my cousins have come over to help me with my -guests.... And, </span><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>! If I am to help you you -must help </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>. The doctor says I positively </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> take -up my riding again unless I am to drift into being an -invalid. Couldn't you—sometimes—whilst you're -down in this part of the world—come over and ride -with me? I can 'mount' you. You could ride poor -Francis's cob ... not showy but very steady."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will, when I come back from town," said Roger, -and took his departure, not at all dissatisfied with his -afternoon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two days afterwards he thought it might be prudent -to see how things were going at the Foreign Office. -So he went up to town, changed into town togs at -Hankey's (where their flat was becoming a white elephant, -owing to Lucy's dislike to London, so he arranged to -give it up), and betook himself to Downing Street, -and asked to see Mr. Bennet Molyneux. "Mr. Bennet -Molyneux," he was presently told, "is very sorry, sir, -but he is much engaged this morning; would you go -into the Department and see one of the young -gentlemen there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Department was a large, long room with a -cubby-hole at its further end for the accommodation of -the senior clerk, a sort of school prefect who had to -keep order among the high-spirited juniors and -therefore required to work a little apart from them. When -Brentham entered the main room, announced by the -office messenger, he recognized two friends of yore and -several new, ingenuous faces. There also emerged -from the cubby hole a man whom he had known as a -junior three years previously: an agreeable gentleman -of agricultural and sporting tastes, who, because of -his occasional remonstrances and enforcement of -discipline, was known as "Snarley Yow or the Dog -Fiend." Then there were "Rosie" Walrond and Ted Parsons. -(The others do not matter in this narrative: they -merely served as chorus and acclaimers of the -witticisms of the elder boys. They were all nice to look -at, all well-mannered and all well-dressed.) "Rosie" -Walrond was a young man—older than he looked—with -wavy flaxen hair and mocking grey eyes, and an -extremely cynical manner overlying an exceedingly -kind heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Walrond</em><span>: "Hullo! Here's </span><em class="italics">Brentham</em><span>, the rescuer -of beleaguered Gospellers. We've got a grudge -against you. You came here months ago and were -closeted with Spavins and never gave us a look-in. -And we were dying to hear all about the elopement -and its sequel. We were prepared to subscribe to a -wedding present for a teller of good stories...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he added: "D'you admire my grotto?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Brentham, after the necessary greetings and introductions, -strode up to "Rosie's" desk. Its ledges and -escarpments were piled with rock specimens on which -tattered, brown, and half-decipherable labels had been -pasted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">My mineral specimens</em><span> ... from" (he checked -himself) ... "from East Africa! Then you </span><em class="italics">never</em><span> -sent them on?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My </span><em class="italics">dear</em><span> chap! Where was I to send them to? -The Consular Mail bags—two of them—arrived here -all right, addressed to me, but nary a letter with them -or any directions. Also two skulls which, as you see, -decorate our mantelpiece, and which I am proposing -to have mounted in silver at Snarley's expense for our -Departmental Dinner. Meantime, I have arranged my -desk as a grotto, in spite of the office cleaner's -objections...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Brentham</em><span>: "I suppose the letter of directions went -astray. I asked you to send the rocks to the School of -Mines and the skulls to the Natural History Museum. -However, I'll take them all away presently in a cab."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> the skulls, I beg, just as we were being -initiated into Devil worship by Snarley, who has learnt -the Black Mass...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, the skulls, too. They're most important——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But so are </span><em class="italics">we</em><span>," said Parsons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then followed half an hour of chaff, out of which -Roger gleaned no grain of information as to his own -probable fate and was too diffident to ask outright if -any decision as to his return had been arrived at. He -accepted an invitation to dine with the Department at -the Cheshire Cheese and meet Arthur Broadmead; then -drove to the School of Mines in Jermyn Street, handed -in his rocks and asked the Curator for a report on -them, at his leisure. After that, Professor Flower and -the skulls; which were those of two men of that -Hamitic race colonizing the Happy Valley. He had found -them lying about on the outskirts of a village and had -received the careless permission of the villagers to take -them away. They might serve to determine the -relationships of this incongruous type.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="sibyl-as-siren"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">SIBYL AS SIREN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In August, 1889, Lucy conveyed to Roger her belief -that she was going to have a child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But that is no reason you should not come down -with me to Sibyl's place in Scotland. You can't be -going to have a baby till—till well on in the winter, -and meantime a stay in the Highlands will brace you -up. Of course as Sibyl is in mourning she can only -have a very small house party—just two or three men -like myself to shoot the grouse, rabbits and stags. I -don't suppose there will be any women there except -her aunt and you." Lucy acquiesced unwillingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was living once more with her parents, while -Roger's plans were so unsettled. The rooms at -Hankey's had been given up, and on his frequent journeys -to London—mainly on Sibyl's business—he slept at -Aunt Pardew's Hotel in Great Ormond Street, where -they made him very comfortable. He had taken Lucy -over to Engledene twice in July—once he had left her -there a whole afternoon, </span><em class="italics">tête-à-tête</em><span> with the still -languid young widow. On that occasion he had -purposely ridden over to Tilehurst to see Mr. Baines with -more news—sent on by Callaway from Unguja—about -Ann Anderson and the restoration of Hangodi -station, and what the Mission proposed to do in regard -to a memorial grave-stone. It tickled his sense of -humour that he should improve his acquaintance with -John's father and thus allay any local feeling against -Lucy: his visits there not only cheered the Aerated -Waters' manufacturer, but they enraged Mrs. Baines.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was obliged all the time to keep locked up in her -bedroom, and this caused Eliza to get out of hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But so far, the hope of a friendship growing up -between his wife and his one-time sweetheart had little -encouragement from either. Sibyl, not wishing to fall -out with Roger, declared she </span><em class="italics">tried</em><span> to like Lucy. Yet -when other people were present she somehow brought -out her rusticity and simplicity, or she adopted towards -her a patronizing manner which was evident even to -the not very acute senses of Roger's wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The visit to Glen Sporran Lodge did not improve -their relations. Lucy in matters of dress was by no -means without taste or discernment, but she was quite -ignorant of the modernest modes. She had no idea -that a stay in the Highlands—even in 1889—involved -a special wardrobe: short, kilted skirts and -high-buttoned leggings, boots, or spats for the day's -adventures—going, to meet the guns, tramping over the -moors, picnics when the wet weather permitted, and all -the shifts for facing a good deal of rain without -looking forlorn or ridiculous. Trailing skirts and wet -weather were irreconcilable; so were yachting and a -silk dress. Perpetual sitting indoors in a town dress, -over a turf fire, and reading novels provoked sarcasms -not only from Sibyl but from the tart tongue of Aunt -Christabel; who wasn't at all inclined to spare Lucy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What had that good-looking Roger with </span><em class="italics">such</em><span> a -career before him had in his mind that he should throw -himself away on this village schoolmistress? She did -not care, either, for Sibyl's new infatuation for Roger; -would have liked to keep them well apart. The distant -cousinship was not through her or her sister, -Mrs. Grayburn, but through Roger's mother and Colonel -Grayburn. Sibyl, when her year of mourning was up, -had much better marry again into the peerage; and if -she wanted a smart man as Agent—for land-agents -of the middle-class-bailiff type were "passés de mode" -on all </span><em class="italics">big</em><span> estates ... well, there was Willowby, -Willowby Patterne (a nephew-in-law of Aunt Christabel), -who really might very well do for the post. Willowby -had been very wild, had run through much of his own -money and his unsuitable wife's—they were never -asked out together. But he was a first-class shot, had -been to Canada with the Duke of Ulster, knew a lot -about blood-stock, had tried farming and ranching and -would be quite all there helping Sibyl entertain her -house parties and giving an eye to the manly -education of James—Aunt Christabel did not countenance -Sibyl's silly freak of imposing the name of -"Clitheroe" on the little Lord Silchester.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy had the greatest regard for economy and -always wanted to save Roger from any unnecessary -expenditure. She remembered that she had come to him -without a dowry and that his future financially was -very uncertain. So that she had not taken him at his -word, "Spend what you like," at the Sloane Street -shops when they were last up in town together. She -had only brought two evening dresses with her to Glen -Sporran, and one of them a plain black silk. After -they had become familiar to the eye, Sibyl had offered -to lend some of </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> gowns, but had done it in such a -way that Lucy's pride was touched and she declined, -with an unwonted sparkle in her eye and a turning of -the rabbit on the stoat. Sibyl then, half amusedly, -dropped this method of annoyance and openly praised -Mrs. Brentham for her simplicity of life and regard -for economy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All this was rather amusing to the speculative and -speculating Sir Willowby Patterne who arrived at Glen -Sporran a fortnight later than Roger and Lucy. He -must then have been about thirty. As you surmise -from his name, he was descended from a famous -mid-nineteenth century baronet. His grandfather (in -diplomacy) married a Russian lady of the Court after -the Napoleonic wars when Russians were in the fashion. -But I think it wholly unfair to attribute to this -alliance the curious vein of cruelty which ran through -his descendants and which in Willowby's father was -slaked by the contemporary British field sports. This -father died from the envenomed bite of an impaled -badger, and in Willowby's case there was a long -minority; so that he started at twenty-one—already a -subaltern in the Guards—with quite a respectable fortune -to "blue." He had been a vicious, tipsy boy at Eton -and did not improve as he grew older. One thing that -developed with him into a mania was the love of -killing. He had seen a little service in the Sudan, but -disgusted his brother officers by his exultation over the -more gory episodes in skirmishes (he generally kept -out of battles), and by his interest in executions and -floggings. Owing to family influence he was for a -very brief time in the suite of a travelling Royalty; -but an episode in the garden of a Lisbon hotel, when -he with a friend was seen worrying a cat to death with -two bull-terriers—and laughing frenziedly the -while—put an end to that appointment. He had had some -success on the turf and in steeplechase riding, and over -shooting pigeons at Monte Carlo; had betrayed quite -a number of trusting women—including his wife; but -nevertheless was rather popular still in Society, -especially the society of rich, idle women, seeking after -sensation without scandal. What there was about him, -save his faultless tailoring and evil reputation to -attract women, a man like Brentham could not understand. -His face was thin and he had those deep ugly -lines around the mouth, that tightness of skin over the -temples and jaw, the thin lips and thin hair, aquiline -nose, and thin capable hands that go with cruelty and -pitilessness. But that women </span><em class="italics">did</em><span> run after him, there -was no denying; though at this time his wife was -shudderingly seeking grounds for divorce, or at any rate -separation, which would satisfy a male judge and jury.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger enjoyed the shooting with rifle and shot-gun, -and his dislike of Willowby was a little tempered by -the latter's unwilling admiration of his marksmanship. -I forget whether in August-September you fish for -salmon in Scotland with a rod and line, but if so you -may be sure Captain Brentham, to whom field sports of -all kinds came as second nature, displayed no less -prowess in that direction. Moreover Willowby tried -to be civil to his deputy host because he was very much -drawn to big-game shooting in East Africa and -thought Roger could put him up to the right place, -right time of year, and right strings to pull.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when the day's sport was done and they had -bathed and changed and laid themselves out for a jolly -evening, Roger began to be nervous and sensitive about -Lucy: sometimes to wish she would not open her -mouth; at others to yearn for her to show some brilliance -in conversation. Her little naïvetés of speech -and turns of phrase which seemed so amusing and even -endearing in Africa, or to an admiring, bucolic -audience at Aldermaston, or an indulgent sister-in-law at -Farleigh Vicarage, here withered into imbecilities -under the mocking glance or the bored incomprehension -of Sibyl, and the cool, eyeglass stare of Willowby -Patterne. Sibyl, also, was afflicted with deafness when -Lucy ventured her inquiries at breakfast as to health -or the state of the weather.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Out of fear of Queen Victoria, Sibyl thought to -make friends at Court and attest at the same time the -"smallness" and "quietness" of her house party by -inviting for a week a lady of the Royal Household -who was off duty and at all times not unwilling to eat -well and sleep softly at some one else's expense. But -she, also, was disconcerting (though no doubt a -pyramid of flawless chastity). She wore a single eyeglass -through which everything and everybody was scanned. -At first she was disposed to be very much interested -in Roger, until she gathered he might not be returning -to Africa. She had friends who were casting in their -lots with Cecil Rhodes's ventures. To her mental -vision, Africa was about the size of an English county. -A man in East Africa ought at any moment to run up -against that perfectly delightful creature, Rhodes, -... "the dear Queen is getting </span><em class="italics">so</em><span> interested in him" -... "was there gold by the bye where Captain Brentham -had been employed?" But when she learnt that -Sibyl's cousin was probably not resuming his post -there and that this very dull, oddly dressed woman was -not Sibyl's secretary but Roger's wife, a former -missionary in East Africa, she quietly gave them both up -as much too much outside her own track through life -ever to be of use or interest again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Another guest for a brief time was the Rev. Stacy -Bream. Mr. Bream even in those distant days was -not—and did not behave like—the conventional -clergyman. He was the incumbent of some Chapel Royal -or Chaplaincy somewhere, wholly in the Royal gift and -generally bestowed on some one who had been for a -brief period a bear-leader or College tutor to a -princeling going through a make-believe course of study at -Oxford or Cambridge. Mr. Bream, in order to take a -line of his own, plunged boldly into the world, even the -half-world, for his congregation and his confidants. -He confessed and absolved the leading ladies of the -stage when they reached that period of ripe middle age -in which husbands began to be unfaithful and lovers -shy and the lady herself felt just the slightest dread of -a hereafter. He came forward to marry, when -re-marriage was legal but not savoury—sooner than that -the poor dears should live in sin. He dealt—I dare -say very kindly and considerately—with scabrous -cases of moral downfall that no one else would touch. -He was a well-known first-nighter and his evening -dress so nearly unclerical that you might have been -pardoned for not spotting him at once, in the crush -room, for a parson, and he would have been the first to -pardon you. He always went where Society did in -order to be able at once to render first aid where morals -had met with an accident. He left town consequently -in time for the grouse, occasionally handled a -gun—quite skilfully—and was very fond of games of chance -in the evening if the stakes were not too high.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bridge had not then reached Great Britain. Where -they would have played Bridge ten years ago they -played Baccarat, or Unlimited Loo, or Nap, or Poker. -Lucy only knew "Pope Joan" and had a horror of -losing money over cards and no capacity for mastering -any card game, not even Snip Snap Snorum. The -Rev. Stacy Bream—who as much as any cleric might, -stood in lieu of a Spiritual director to Lady -Silchester—called Lucy once or twice "My dear che-ild" and -then found her so uninteresting and inexplicable that -he ceased to study her any more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Lucy at last, in dread of snubs if she entered the -battledore and shuttlecock conversation or of revealing -her utter ignorance of the ways of smart society, fell -silent at meal-times and after meals. When the others -played cards or roulette on a miniature green table, -she would read a book in a corner or steal away up to -bed before the maids had done her room for the night. -And gradually she developed the red, moist nose that -comes to a woman who cries in secret, and there were -wrought other changes in good looks and figure attend -ant on her condition. And then one day, early in -September, Roger, returning to his dressing-room for a -cigarette-case and to ascertain if Lucy was ready to -start on an excursion, found her on her bedroom sofa -in a crisis of weeping. Sibyl had summed up her -makeshift costume—for a day's yachting—in one -short phrase.... This on top of having completely -overlooked her existence at yesterday's picnic lunch, -and left her cupless and tealess at the late tea which -followed their return. "R—Ro—ger, oh dear -Roger, </span><em class="italics">let</em><span> me go home! I'm only in </span><em class="italics">every one's</em><span> way -here. I never felt so stupid in my life before. </span><em class="italics">I can't</em><span> -think what's the matter with me—it's the feeling they -all </span><em class="italics">despise me</em><span>—and—and—pity you for having -made a fool of yourself. Let me go home to -mother—and Maud!..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger consented at once. He felt full of remorse -and pity, promised soon to join her in the south, -escorted her as far as Carlisle, and arranged that kind -Maud should meet her at Euston and take her home to -Aldermaston. The others were too utterly uninterested -in her to listen much to his explanation with its -discreet allusion. She was a bore and a wet blanket -out of the way, and they could now settle down to enjoy -themselves. Sibyl, to keep up the fiction of being in -mourning, wore black and absented herself from most -of the pleasure outings; going about instead alone with -Roger, to show him the ins and outs of the estate and -enable him to formulate plans for its profitable -development.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Early in October, Captain Brentham saw young -Lord Tarrington (heir to the Earldom of Pitchingham -and précis-writer to Lord Wiltshire). He was -told that Lord W. had given careful attention to his -case. His Lordship thoroughly appreciated his -painstaking work for a year or more as Acting Consul-General, -but thought that under the circumstances it was -better he should not return to the scene of his former -labours on the mainland. H.L., however, though -Captain Brentham had scarcely been more than an officer -selected for special service in Africa, would be pleased -to consider him favourably for the consular posts of -Bergen or of Baranquilla.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose you know where Bergen is?" added -Lord Tarrington. "A little bit near the North -Pole—or is it North Cape? I always mix the two. But -it's in </span><em class="italics">Norway, very</em><span> bracing climate, </span><em class="italics">awfully</em><span> good -sea-fishing, and £350 a year. Or if you prefer heat, there's -Baranquilla, northern South America, </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> a good -climate, but the last man stood it for two years before he -succumbed to yellow fever ... and it's £550 a year -and two years count for three in service. Which is it -to be? Make up your mind soon, 'cos lots of fellows -are on the waiting list—snap at either."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tarrington's tone, for all its bluff good nature -sounded final. Roger seeing his dreams of an African -empire fade in that dingy room, all its tones having -sombred with twenty years' fog and smoke into shades -of yellow white and yellow brown, felt at first inclined -to refuse haughtily either consolation for the loss of -Zangia. But a married man and prospective father -with very slight resources cannot permit himself the -luxury of ill-temper. So he replied civilly that -he would think if over and let Lord Tarrington know.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he left the first floor of the building he crossed the -path of the august Secretary of State himself walking -probably round the quadrangle to the India Office. -There was no look of recognition in his deep-set eyes. -How different from two and a half years ago when he -had been hailed by this statesman as an authority on -East Africa far better worth listening to than -Mr. Bennet Molyneux, now noting down complacently in -his room below the fact that the Consulate at Zangia -with its seven hundred pounds a year was to be offered -to the acting man, Mr. Spencer Bazzard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Brentham went down that evening—pretending he -didn't care in the least for this definite set-back—to -Reading, and, chartering a fly, drove out to Engledene. -A rather late little dinner with Sibyl and Aunt -Christabel was followed by a long consultation with Sibyl in -the Library.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Silchester's plans had long been ready, though -she seemed to develop them as she spoke. "Become -my agent, Rodge-podge, in place of old Parkins. He's -an out-of-date duffer. I'll either pension him off, or -better still send him to live on the Staffordshire -property. He's let that go down very much; it ought to -yield twice its present rents. I'll give you £700 a -year, and there'll be all sorts of legitimate pickings as -well. You can have the Lodge at Englefield to live in. -I'll do it up for you. Lucy can live there and go on -having babies for the next ten years. I'm sure </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> don't -want to ask her to dinner or to anything else, if she -doesn't want to come. She needn't curtsy to me if -we meet, if it's </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> she dislikes....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you've </span><em class="italics">great</em><span> abilities, Roger. You've been -</span><em class="italics">shamefully</em><span> treated by Lord W.... He's always tried -to snub </span><em class="italics">me</em><span> ... </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> don't know why ... I'll tell you -</span><em class="italics">what</em><span>. I'll </span><em class="italics">run</em><span> you. After all, I am a rich woman -... now. You shall get into Parliament ... and -be a great Imperialist, as that seems to be going to -become the fashion. What ... </span><em class="italics">what</em><span> ... WHAT a -pity you married like that, all in a hurry! And you -see it's done you no good with the Nonconformist -conscience and those stuffy old things at the F.O. -However, it's no good crying over spilt milk. </span><em class="italics">I'll</em><span> -make a career for you!" And she looked at him with -shining eyes, betraying her palpable secret....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is awfully good of you, Syb," said Roger, -not meeting her look. "But do you think it is fair on -others? Why not put in your father——? Or one -of your brothers?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Rubbish</em><span>! Dad would make just as great a mess -of the Silchester estates—only on a far bigger scale—as -he is doing over his three hundred acres at Aldermaston. -I think we'll send him up to care-take at -Glen Sporran and make him sell up the Aldermaston -place. Helping him with loans is like pouring money -into—what do you pour it into when it runs away? -A sieve? And the two boys have both got jobs and -are none too bright, at that. Besides, it's no fun -working with brothers, and I'm going to throw myself -heart and soul into the development of the Estate. -It'll be ... it'll be ... what's two and a third from -twenty-one? Well, at any rate, more than eighteen -years before Clithy comes of age. In that time we'll -have raised the annual value of the property to twice -what it is now, and incidentally we'll have a glorious -time, influencing people, don't you know, getting up a -new opposition in Parliament, and making ourselves -felt...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, in any case, it's awfully good of you -... </span><em class="italics">awfully</em><span> ... somehow I don't deserve it...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't, after the way you threw me over. But -stick to me now, through thick and thin, and"—she -was going to have added impulsively, "Oh, </span><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>, I </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> -love you, I can't help it," and perhaps have flung -herself on to a sofa with a burst of hysterical tears to salve -all his scruples, but quickly thought better of this and -added rather tamely, "And we'll make a great -success of our partnership. And now we must go and -play backgammon or bezique or something with Aunt -Christabel, or she will come poking her nose in here to -see what we're up to. How tiresome the old are! It's -only on account of what the Queen would say that I -keep her on here. She thinks you're 'dangerous' to -my peace of mind, Roger. But if I had mother here -instead she would be equally boring, and father can't -bear to be separated from her, and the two of them -would be </span><em class="italics">unthinkable</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Though some instinct told Roger Sibyl's scheme -would never work, without damage to his peace of -mind and his conjugal relations, he felt her Circe -influence already. He accepted her offer—at any rate -for one year. At the end of that time she and he -should be free to cancel the arrangement. He decided -for the present to lodge with his wife's parents and ride -backwards and forwards till Lucy had had her baby. -At the utmost he would have a bedroom at the Lodge -and the Parkinses—Mrs. Parkins, at any rate—should -not vacate it definitely till Lucy was able to set -up house there. He wrote civilly but briefly to Lord -Tarrington declining to go either to Norway or to -Colombia, and resigned "with much regret" his -commission for Zangia.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>About this time he received two letters which gave -him much to think about, but which he put at the back -of his mind. I will give the shortest first:—</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics">To Captain Brentham, F.R.G.S., -<br />H.B.M. Consul for Zangia.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>School of Mines,</span></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Jermyn Street, S.W.</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">October</em><span> 5, 1889.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAR SIR,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You will remember calling here in last July, just -before I took my holiday.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You left with me for examination a series of rock -specimens and some sediment of lake water from East -Africa.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of the rock specimens, at least six give indications -of great interest. Those two labelled "Iraku I" and -"Iraku II" are so rich in gold that their importance -must have been apparent to yourself—unless you -mistook the gold for iron pyrites, an inverse of the -customary deception, which is generally the other way -about. The specimen labelled "Marasha" is simply -coal—rather shaley coal, probably a surface fragment. -There are two specimens, unfortunately with their -labels missing or indecipherable, which are a hard -bluish green serpentine rock, obviously related to the -"blue ground" of South Africa and probably -diamondiferous. A fifth specimen yields evidence of -wolframite, and in three other samples there is much -mica. The lake sediment is being further examined -by a colleague of mine. He believes it to be an -indication of the formation of phosphates in the lake bed -or shores which should be of great importance to -agriculture as a constituent of chemical manure. These -phosphates might be derived from birds' dung in great -quantities, from guano in fact.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I assume you have duly registered the exact -geographical localities of these specimens? Otherwise, -they are very tantalizing, for they evidently indicate—if -they come from one region and not from a wide area -of travel—one of the wealthiest of African territories.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pursuant to your wish, however, I shall treat the -matter as confidential. But if you can at any time -supply me with the exact geographical information I -require I shall be pleased to write a report on the -collection for the Petrographical Society or for the -confidential information of the Government: whichever you -prefer.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Yours faithfully,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>DANIEL RUTTER.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Unguja,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">August</em><span> 26, 1889.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAR CAPTAIN BRENTHAM,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Stott and I, we thank you very heartily for -your kind remembrances of us. The generous present -of tea you sent us as soon as you got back to England -reached our good friend Callaway a little while ago and -I found it here waiting for us when I arrived from the -interior.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Captain Wissmann has had a wonderful series of -victories over the Arabs and Wangwana, which in the -good providence of God have cleared the way between -Ugogo and the coast. I heard something of this in -the Happy Valley last April; so, as we were running -terribly short of supplies and as we felt "seed time -was come" and that the Lord desired us to reopen our -Burungi Station, and establish his tabernacle strongly -in this glorious place—Manyara—"ripe unto -harvest"—I felt my way cautiously up the Valley and -through the Irangi country to Burungi. The place was -not any worse treated than when you left it—you -made a great impression on the Wagogo—so, as their -elders begged me to rebuild the station I left some of -our trained workers to do so. Besides that, Captain -Wissmann, whom we met near-by, has lent us two -German sergeants—biddable men and clever with their -hands. They'd been sick, and wounded in the legs and -he said it would do them good to have a spell of quiet -sedentary life. He also put under their orders a guard -of five Sudanese soldiers to guard the station whilst it -is being rebuilt. So here I am at the coast, chopping -yarns with Mr. Callaway, and laying in great supplies -which I have been able to buy out of the price of that -ivory you shot for us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Captain Brentham, you don't know what a mine of -wealth the Happy Valley is, and the cliffs and -mountains on the western side (Iraku and Ilamba). I am -an Australian, and before I found Christ I had a -course of instruction as a mining engineer. The rocks -in and about the Happy Valley tell me at first sight -more than they would an ordinary Englishman. I -suppose some one will have to find out this, sooner or later. -I'd much sooner it were </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>. You may yet get it -taken over by Great Britain. At any rate, if you came -out here and prospected you would see what I mean. -What did you do with the specimens you took away -with you for analysis? Did you lose them on your -way to the coast? Maybe if the Happy Valley is to -come under the Germans they would give you a concession. -This Captain Wissmann seems to like you, and -he said it was far from his Government's intention to -drive away English missionaries or English capital. -He likes the English very much and speaks English -very well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I only write this because they say here you are not -coming back as Consul. I am sorry. Why not then -come out on your own? I've opened your letter to -Mrs. Stott, which came with the tea, and </span><em class="italics">right glad</em><span> I -was to hear—and so will she be—that you'd married -poor Lucy Baines. </span><em class="italics">Right glad</em><span>. Bring her out here -with you, and Mrs. Stott shall look after her whilst -you go round prospecting and staking out your claims. -We may not see eye to eye over the Lord's work. -The Lord hasn't revealed himself to you yet as He has -to us. He will in His own good time. But you've -got the root of the matter in you. I never yet met -an unbeliever who was so reverent and so tender of -other people's beliefs.... You're a good man, if -you'll forgive my saying so. You wouldn't ever -interfere with our work here, I know. It's getting on -</span><em class="italics">grand</em><span>. We baptized the Chief of the Wambugwe and -fifty of his men in the Lake at Manyara just before -you left, and please God, we've saved the whole valley -from Islam.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Stott had always a first-class opinion of you, -though you weren't of our way of thinking in religion. -She is sure you'll always stand up for the natives and -protect their rights. I hope I haven't been taking a -liberty, writing this letter. If you don't like to come -out yourself, any one you sent we should trust to do the -right thing and would show him round. Otherwise, -we have been careful to say </span><em class="italics">nothing</em><span> about the Happy -Valley, and so far no Arabs and no Germans have -troubled us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>May God's blessing rest on you and on your sorely -tried wife. I feel sure there are happier days in store -for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Your sincere friend—if you'll allow me to say so.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>JAMES EWART STOTT.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In regard to the School of Mines Report, Roger for -acquitment of conscience and because he always liked -to do the right thing, sent a résumé of Professor -Rutter's analysis to the F.O., stating that the -specimens referred to had been picked up by him on his -recent tour through the interior of German East Africa.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In reply, the Under Secretary of State Was directed -to thank Captain Brentham for this valuable information.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In reality it was decided to pigeon-hole the report, -certainly to give it no publicity. Let the Germans -find out for themselves the value of their territories. -If they discovered they had bitten off more than they -could chew, why ... then....</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In January, 1890, Lucy was delivered of a son. -Roger was hugely delighted. When he asked Lucy a -week after the birth if she had any preference for a -name—</span><em class="italics">her</em><span> father's, </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> father's, his own—she said -in a faint voice but with some finality in the accent: -"Let him be called 'John'!" Then, as he did not -reply, she added, "John loved me and I wasn't worthy -of his love...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, and don't </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> love you?" answered Roger -with a tinge of compunction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's a bit wandery in her mind, sir," said the -nurse. "Don't pay any attention to what she's a -saying. She's mistook your name. Several times -since the baby was born she's seemed to be talking with -a John, but it was you she was a thinkin' about, </span><em class="italics">I'll</em><span> -be bound. She wants keeping very quiet...."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Once Captain Brentham took up the affairs of the -Silchester estates—which he did definitely in October, -1889, he went very thoroughly into their condition -and their possibilities of development. He was not, -of course, a trained, professional land agent, which -was why his shrewd and original ideas of enhancing -the value and productivity of land made the Institute -of Land Agents so angry. But he knew something of -surveying, and had been accustomed to value countries -by the eye, to judge of soils, espy defects in farming, -by his boyish life at Farleigh and his experiences in -India and Africa.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Silchester in his fondness for landscape beauty -had preferred a lovely, unkempt, autumn-wistful -wilderness to a possible brick-field, though to a geologist -the clay was almost crying out to be turned to the -service of man. He liked great spaces without a sign of -man's habitation to mar the poem. Roger, though he -had a strongly developed sense of the beautiful in -Nature, yet combined with it a realization that much -waste land in the England of latter days, and even in -Scotland, is an offence and a temptation to discontent -on the part of the landless. Another charm can be -contributed to landscapes by the handiwork of man, -provided the cottage is tastefully and soundly built, -the manufactory—even the brick-kilns and chimneys—are -of the right material for the neighbourhood, of -harmonious colour and appropriate design.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the Berkshire and Hampshire estates woodlands -required thinning, cattle wanted new blood and better -breeding. The lobster fishery at Sporran Bay should -certainly be developed. A proportion of the deer in -Scotland and at Engledene might with advantage be -sold. The farmer tenants generally wanted shaking -up. Some of them could well afford to pay twice their -present rent and let him out of the increased rent-roll -rebuild their houses, barns, granaries, pigsties and -cow-sheds. Why, the dairy business alone might be -trebled in value with this proximity of a milk-hungry -London. Farmer Josling, a right-down superior man -with much self-given education, should help him in -this. Incidentally, with Sibyl's consent, he had given -his father-in-law a life-lease of his farm as some -acknowledgment of his excellent use of it, and his -progressive influence on the other farmers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bracing outdoor life and constant riding, the -hunting and shooting did his health a world of good. -He had never looked so well, so set up and robust as he -did at the age of thirty-two, as Sibyl's factotum. The -worst of this was that he seemed more desirable than -ever in Sibyl's eyes, as she admitted with her -disarming frankness. "What a pity it is, Roger, the silly -laws of this sanctimonious country will not permit -polygamy. We are just in the prime of life, you and -I. I am much better looking than I was ten years -ago—I shudder at my old photographs—I wore a -fringe then and a bustle, and a lot of hair down my -back, and a terrible simper when I faced the camera. -It's a crime against Nature that we can't marry. We -should have the handsomest children and we could -easily arrange matters with Lucy. She's not exacting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger laughed at these speeches, but they made him -a little uncomfortable. Had Sibyl been a complete -stranger to him he might have succumbed long before -to her wiles; few men of his build, his time, his -complexion were Josephs. But the slight relationship -between them acted as a barrier to concupiscence. It -permitted a familiarity in speech and address which -made any closer intimacy repellent to his sense of -decency....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sibyl it must be admitted, was shameless when they -were together. She would study his features attentively; -admire the curl of his eyelashes, the outline of -his profile, even the not quite classical prominence of -the cheek bones, the virile twist upwards of his -moustache, the firm chin and strong white teeth, the -well-set ear and close-cropped hair at the back of his head: -the while she pretended, pen in hand, to be considering -his propositions. Thought-transference told him -what this scrutiny meant, and he would colour a little -in shame and become abrupt in manner—even say to -himself, "This </span><em class="italics">can't</em><span> go on—I wish she'd think of -something else...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was conscientiously attentive to Lucy at this -time and she was really happy during this phase in -Roger's life. In the spring she took up her residence -in the Lodge at Englefield and made a comfortable -home for her devoted husband, who seemed resolved -to show her how happy he was in his marriage. -Maud, from Farleigh, was a constant visitor, stayed -weeks together with Lucy and Roger and served as a -</span><em class="italics">trait d'union</em><span> with Sibyl, who allowed Maud to chaff -her and scold her as she would no one else. Sibyl was -quite civil to Lucy, did not bother her, left her alone -except for an occasional greeting and the showing of -some curiosity as to little John. "You may call him -</span><em class="italics">John</em><span> as much as you like, but he's certainly Roger's child."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Clithy and his nurse were often sent down to the -Lodge to be with Lucy; Sibyl deigning to say that her -influence over children was a good one and Clithy was -never fretful with </span><em class="italics">her</em><span>. In her mocking moods she -called her little son "The Prince with the Nose" and -declared he was under an enchantment. He had for -a child of three a preternaturally large nose, and as -she said to Roger, there could be no doubt as to his -paternity. "How pleased Francis would have been! -He was always so proud of the Mallard nose. Said it -could be traced back in pictures to Charles I's -reign—Anne of Denmark, who was rather larky after she had -been married ten years, had a side-slip—you know -what a </span><em class="italics">tipsy</em><span> court they were!—and bore a daughter -to the Lord Chamberlain, who was particularly active -in the revels. James overlooked her breach of good -manners and ultimately gave the large-nosed little girl -in marriage with Silchester Manor to a favourite, who -founded the House of Mallard. Francis was going -to have put this into his Memoirs, but he died, poor -dear, leaving them three-quarters finished. I think </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> -shall finish them for a lark. Will you help me?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>One reason why Lucy was dreamily happy at Englefield -Lodge was that she seemed there to link up with -the life of her girlhood. She had so often strolled -round the precincts of Engledene with John Tilehurst, -she dared not revisit for fear of meeting Mrs. Barnes. -But she would sometimes walk over the same -path she had traced with John on that Sunday in June, -1886. She would sit on the seat at </span><em class="italics">The View</em><span> and go -over once more in memory, and with a sad little smile -her naïve and petulant questions and answers on that -Sunday walk. How she had told John her desire to -encounter lions, and yet when a lion had visited their -camp, what abject terror she had shown! Hangodi! -That name was first uttered to her in Engledene Park -and she remembered John saying it meant "The Place -of Firewood."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One day Roger brought over to see her in the dog-cart -old Mr. Baines—as he was beginning to be called. -They both shed a few tears, but he told her with more -sincerity than he usually put into his husky voice that -he exonerated her from all blame in the catastrophe -which had overtaken his son (Lucy herself was not so -sure). "Mother's taken it awfully bad, Lucy. She's -goin' out of her mind, I'm fearin'. First she was -writin' an' writin' to Lord Wiltshire, him as is Prime -Minister, don't you know, to give your husband the -sack as bein' the real cause of John's death. Then -next she'd bother our member, wantin' 'im to ask -questions in the 'Ouse of Commons, till at last they give -up answerin' them. Then she set to and slanged that -Missionary Society that John belonged to, sayin' they -wasn't 'alf careful enough about 'is precious life. -Now this spring, blessed if she ain't cut our -Connexion! She won't go to Salem Chapel; goes to -Church instead ... St. Michael's. Shouldn't -wonder if she ended up a papist! ... S'pose you know -</span><em class="italics">Ann's</em><span> in England? They're makin' a lot of fuss -about 'er in Reading and London. Call her a Heroine. -She's bin down with 'er 'usband—rather a half-baked -feller—to see us; but 'er talk with Mother ain't done -Mother much good, partly 'cos Ann wouldn't join 'er in -abusin' you. She says to Mother: 'I just told you -the plain truth in that letter. I'm not goin' to add nor -subtract one word, an' you've gone and put into it much -more than I ever said. Just leave Lucy alone to God's -judgment. At any rate, John loved her and died -believin' her true; and I dessay she was. Africa's a -funny country and you must put down a lot to the -climate.' ... Ann's going back to Africa next autumn, -with three more recruits and a lot of money to spend on -the Mission School. Old Mrs. Doland sent for 'er and -give 'er five hundred pounds. I tell 'er she ought to -come and see you before she goes. P'raps she will, -p'raps she won't. I told 'er you called your baby -'John,' and the tears reg'lar came into 'er eyes...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger owned to Maud he felt a bit restless in the -spring and early summer of 1890. He couldn't get -Africa out of his mind, somehow. There was first the -fuss about Stanley and the return of the Emin Pasha -Relief Expedition—surely one of the most wasted -feats of heroism and brave endeavour in the history of -Africa. Then came the 1890 Agreement with -Germany. This left the Happy Valley pretty much where -it had lain—unmarked as yet—on the map, but by -approximate latitude and longitude entirely German, -as Roger knew. But the discussion of frontiers in -Africa caused him to feel fretful and resentful at being -"out of it." Sir Mulberry Hawk, who had negotiated -the treaty, might surely have turned to him for -enlightenment on this point and that? Even though he -had left the African Service, there were his reports -of 1884-5 and -6, and of 1887-9. He felt impelled -to go and see Broadmead, always accessible to men of -worth. Broadmead said it was a beastly shame—spite -perhaps on the part of Molyneux—but every -one now was thinking of the Recess.... London was -becoming awfully stale.... He and Roger should -meet in the early autumn. Broadmead would perhaps -come down to Engledene and shoot Sibyl's pheasants, -and talk over Africa.... If Roger was still hankering -after East Africa, why didn't he suck up to "Wully -MacNaughten?" He had a show place somewhere -up in the Highlands, not an immeasurable distance -from Glen Sporran.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who was Wully? Didn't Brentham know? -Why, he had begun life as a small grocer in some -Scotch town, and bankrupted through giving credit to -the crofters. Not to be bested by Fate, he went out -to China as a clerk and in twenty years had made quite -a respectable fortune. Friends said out of tea, -enemies out of opium, smuggled into India; probable -cause, the great coolie traffic between China and the -rest of the world, which prompted him to found a -navy of tramp steamers to carry the coolies, many of -them over to Africa. Then he nibbled at East Africa; -began with missionary stations, sort of atonement, -don't you know, for anything naughty he'd done—Chaps -in China used to call him 'MacNaughty-naughty'—s'posed -to have had a half-caste family. -Not a word of truth in it. However, there it was, -and he couldn't go on refreshing Brentham's memory. -Brentham had been in East Africa and must know all -about MacNaughten there?..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, yes, I know, of course, he's the Chairman of -the Chartered Company of Ibea—Mvita, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, they are going to extend their operations -inland to the Victoria Nyanza and they want a -go-ahead man as Governor. The chap at present out -there is—— However, nothing can be done now. -See you later on, give you a letter to him.... Tata."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If Roger was restless with unavowed hankerings -after his first mistress, Africa, Sibyl, unconscious that -he ever dreamed of release from her Circe toils, was -radiant in the spring and summer of that particularly -radiant year, 1890. Her prescribed mourning was -over, so that the "horrid old Queen" could have no -ground of objection to her entertaining like any other -opulent peeress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger had worked wonders with the estates, and -before long the revenues, over which she would have -control till her son's majority, would be increased by -at least one-third. Her choice of him from a business -point of view was amply justified. Her pulse -quickened and her eyes grew brighter than their ordinary -at the thought he might some day be her lover. If -only that tiresome Lucy died in one of her confinements, -he might even be her husband. Of course, she -would most carefully avoid any foolishness which -might give the least ground for scandal. If she did -that, she could take life as pleasantly as Lady -Ramsgate (the ridiculous one, called "Popsy"), or Lady -Ann Vizor. Every one knew that Popsy Ramsgate -had had a child by her farm bailiff and kept it at the -farm, and no one thought the worse of her. Ramsgate -was dead. Lady Ann's stockbroker was obviously her -lover, but he was very gentlemanly and no one would -have guessed unless they had been specially told.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even if Roger were free, she was not sure she -wanted exactly to marry him. She would then lose -her title or, at any rate, her social rights as a peeress. -And Roger as husband might be too masterful. She -wanted to "queen it" as a rich woman with -intelligence and taste might do in those days. Now her -mourning was over she would commence at once to -give parties at 6A, Carlton House Terrace, which -should put those of Suzanne Feenix quite in the shade. -She would create a salon, to which should be attracted -the younger bloods, the rebels of the Conservative -Party. She would revivify Lord Randolph, join -hands with Mary March, who had a wonderful </span><em class="italics">flair</em><span> -for inveigling millionaires. She and a few other -clever women—the Tennants, perhaps—should create -a young and intellectual Conservative Party—or -Unionist Party, if you liked. They would get hold of -Choselwhit—perhaps Rhodes, if he came to England.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Wiltshire should rue the day that he had -snubbed her at a Chapelmead week-end—the last time -poor Francis went out anywhere—and cut her at two -Foreign Office receptions. The Brinsleys should be -shown their reign was over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her initiates—she really founded the half-legendary -"Souls"—should include the smartest writers and -the most daring painters, the weirdest poets of the -day. They would have their own press, if it wasn't -too expensive, but Mary March's millionaires might -manage that ... hadn't she been introduced at one of -Mary's theatre parties to an enormously rich and -humble person called Tooley? Lady Tarrington had asked -him if he owned Tooley Street and the stupid creature -had said: "Beg pardon, me lady?" Well, Tooley -should be ensorcelled—perhaps an invitation up to -Glen Sporran—and buy their newspaper for them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then she had an idea of starting a monthly -Review which she would edit herself and which should -tell the naked truth. No squeamishness.... Praed, -the architect, should send them one or two of his -queer storiettes....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As to mother and father, they would spoil any -circles with their banalities and old-fashioned ideas -... and father's stories would never be followed to their -finish by the modern young man or woman. They -would devastate her circle. No. They must stop in -the country. Mother seemed to be developing some -internal complaint—probably indigestion or -something which could be cured at Aix or Homburg—and -she was becoming very strait-laced and anxious-eyed. -Sibyl would take Roger's advice: buy up father's three -hundred acres; it could be made a most profitable milk -farm. Father should stay on as tenant at a nominal -rent, with a bailiff to manage—perhaps that young -Harden, the cricketer, who had married Lucy's sister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sibyl resolved to send mother to Aix at her expense -and have Aunt Christabel to stay with her indefinitely -as long as she wanted a chaperon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As to her sisters: thank goodness, </span><em class="italics">they</em><span> were off her -hands. They had married and gone away with their -husbands to those blessed colonies, Clara to New -Zealand and Juliet to British Columbia. Long might -they remain there! Relations—unless very distant—were -like reproaches or bad replicas of one's self. -They sapped all one's originality....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These were some of the musings of Sibyl when -having her hair brushed by Sophie, or when undergoing -Swedish massage under the firm but soothing hands of -a blonde giantess; when breakfasting in bed; or -undergoing a long train journey in a first-class compartment -with a defective lamp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no question in this year of Lucy's -accompanying her husband to Glen Sporran. She was -starting another baby and was firm about not wishing to -go. Sibyl took this decision most amiably; said Lucy -was quite wise, and further proposed that she should -have Maud with her and care-take for Sibyl at -Engledene House. Clitheroe was likewise to be left behind. -His life in the Highlands was one long succession of -dangerous colds and there wasn't enough accommodation -for his retinue of nurses; especially as every one -you asked nowadays must have with them a maid or -a valet. Clithy had grown so absurdly fond of Lucy -that Sibyl suggested jocosely they should change -babies. She thought little John a perfect darling—so -like Roger—why hadn't Lucy chosen her as -god-mother instead of Maud? No doubt Clithy would -grow up more like a normal boy when the rest of his -features balanced Anne of Denmark's nose.... -Meantime, it was very fortunate things were as they -were. And Lucy would oblige her enormously by -looking after her boy while she was entertaining all -those horrid people in the North.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not that the house-party was to be a large one. It -ran away with so much money, and people were never -grateful. There would just be Stacy Bream; the -Honble. Victoria Masham, the Maid of Honour—old -Vicky Long-i'-the-tooth, Sibyl called her behind her -back, and never imagined the nickname could be -repeated and counteract the expense of a month's -hospitality. </span><em class="italics">Must</em><span> have Vicky to keep in touch, you know, -with what the old Queen was saying and doing—and -an acolyte of Stacy's named Reggie, something in the -Colonial Office—he could flirt with Vicky—and -p'raps Arthur Broadmead. Then—for a day or two—that -insufferable cad, Elijah Tooley—"but he's so -frightfully, frightfully rich and </span><em class="italics">might</em><span> be useful." Aunt -Christabel, of course, would come, to keep order, -and Aggie Freebooter and Gertie Wentworth would -make up the house-party. Aggie Freebooter was that -tiresome Lady Towcester's daughter—"one of six -girls, my dear"—but when she was away from her -mother's eye she was deliciously larky and awfully -plucky, and didn't mind what you played at; while -Gertie Wentworth—or the Honble. Gertrude—thirty-five, -lots of money, dresses like a man, whisky and -cigars, takes the bank at Roulette and loses everything -but her temper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, at any rate," said Maud, "I'm glad Willowby -Patterne is not in the party, </span><em class="italics">this</em><span> time...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear!..." said Sibyl with a scream. "I've -absolutely dropped him, after that row in the City and -that extraordinary case in the courts which was -compromised and hushed up. He's gone out to East -Africa. Haven't you heard?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maud had not heard and cared very little what had -happened to the spendthrift baronet. But Roger had, -and was a little uneasy as to his cherished Happy -Valley. Willowby Patterne, mixed up once more with a -very shady Company to take over and boom a new -mineral water—some proposition of Bax Strangeways—and -a matter of slander and a club-steps whipping, -settled out of court ... and pending proceedings -of his wife's for a separation; had decided -abruptly to make "peau neuve" in East Africa. He -had depicted the thrills of big-game shooting to one -of his dupes just come of age and into possession of -a pot of money. This young man would stand the -racket of the expense—£5,000—and Willowby -would put him up to all the dodges. And perhaps they -might find minerals and get a concession....</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Whilst he was up in Scotland Roger did manage, -with the aid of Arthur Broadmead, to obtain an -interview with Sir William MacNaughten on the subject of -East African developments and the Company's future -administration. But Sir William seemed vague, and -much more interested and definite in regard to another -question: King Solomon's Temple. Had Captain -Brentham, as an Orientalist, ever given his mind to -that problem, the shape and structure of the Temple, -its adornment, and the hidden meaning of the Divine -ordinances? No, Captain Brentham had not ... but -... er ... no doubt it was very interesting and full -of meaning ... only ... East Africa?...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, East Africa—our Charter—Oh, yes! -Well, come and see me about that when I'm back in -London. You know my address there? Westminster -Palace Hotel?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Glen Sporran party broke up with the rain and -chill winds of the equinox; but Roger stayed on there -with Sibyl and Aunt Christabel: nominally to examine -the affairs of the estate and the installation of the -lobster fishery; in reality because his resolves had all -dissolved before her insistence, her tears, her threats to -make a scene. Circe triumphed; preened herself; -became once more gay and debonnaire. But her -wretched lover felt indeed a pig. Aunt Christabel, -the very servants seemed to guess what Sibyl thought -was kept wholly secret from the rest of the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A month's absence in Staffordshire and London, and -a shamefaced visit to Engledene Lodge did something -to restore his self-respect. He called on Sir William at -his hotel, resolved to broach the subject of the East -Africa Governorship, but found him out. Nevertheless, -to his delight there came a note to Pardew's Hotel -from Sir William with these words in it: "Come to -breakfast to-morrow morning at nine. I have something -very interesting to discuss with you, and should -value your opinion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He arrived punctually. Lady MacNaughten was -there—rather vinegary and with pursed lips. She -dispensed the tea and coffee with a very strong -Glasgow accent. The materials of the breakfast -were—Roger thought—rather meagre for such wealthy -people, who could afford to retain by the year this large -suite of rooms. As no mention of East Africa was -made during breakfast it was clearly more tactful to -wait till the subject was introduced. Perhaps Sir -William preferred not to discuss business in his wife's -presence. At last, however, he finished his second cup -of coffee, wiped his lips, said a grace of thanks for -"our bounteous meal" in which Lady MacNaughten -joined; and then asked Roger to accompany him to his -sitting-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The folding doors were opened and shut behind them -by an officious waiter; the window of the sitting-room -looking out on incipient Victoria Street was also closed -because the west wind was chilly. And Sir William -then turned and said with great heartiness, pointing -to a cardboard and </span><em class="italics">papier-mâché</em><span> contraption under -a glass case:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There! </span><em class="italics">That's</em><span> what I wanted to discuss with you, -who know the East so well: a Model of King -Solomon's Temple, made to my own design!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Governorship of the Mombasa Concession was -shortly after conferred on Lady MacNaughten's nephew.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="back-to-the-happy-valley"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">BACK TO THE HAPPY VALLEY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Roger, ever since he returned from Scotland, -resolved that a break with Sibyl should come as -soon as he could see before him the re-opening of an -African career. Only fortified with such a resolve -could he face his wife's candid eyes and her -unquestioning trust in him—or Maud's more quizzical gaze -and occasional sardonic remarks.... "That old fox, -MacNaughten," he said to himself, "had determined -all along to evade the well-meant suggestions of -candidates from the Foreign, Colonial, and India Offices, -and as soon as he got his Baronetcy (which came with -the New Year's honours) to take a line of his own."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, Fate for once hastened the dénouement by -causing Roger's father to catch cold over the excavation -of the Basilica at Silchester, to neglect his cold, -and to die of double pneumonia in the week preceding -Christmas, 1890. Roger could not help being -profoundly grateful to his archæological parent for dying -</span><em class="italics">before</em><span> rather than after Christmas, because this -decease, with the conventions in force, and Queen -Victoria behind the conventions, absolutely freed him from -the obligation to attend the elaborate Christmas and -New Year festivities ordained by Sibyl at Engledene. -She had set aside a suite of rooms—bedroom, -sitting-room and office—at 6A, Carlton House Terrace, -and would no longer hear of his staying at Pardew's -Hotel when in London to transact business with her. -There were times when he seriously considered shooting -himself—and strange to say, all through this period -of episodical infidelity he had never loved Lucy -better, or found her smiling silence or unimportant, -unexacting conversation more soothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her approaching confinement and his father's death -together constituted a barrier of reserve that even Sibyl -was bound to respect. He therefore utilized this -respite to work assiduously at his plans for flight from -the enchantress. He was most anxious after he was -gone that no one should say with justification that he -had let Lady Silchester down, had treated her badly, -got things into a muddle, and then bolted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As far back as the preceding October he had brought -his younger brother, Maurice, the barrister into the -Estate Office to be his assistant. Sibyl could suggest -no one else and told him he could make what arrangements -he liked—if </span><em class="italics">only</em><span>—if—</span><em class="italics">only</em><span> he would not be -</span><em class="italics">cruel</em><span> to her, not talk of going at the end of the trial -year. As he had not complete confidence in Maurice -becoming efficient for the head post, he had entered into -a provisional arrangement for a first-class man to put -over Maurice, selecting him at the Institute of Land -Agents' recommendation...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So much therefore had been done to safeguard h -employer's interests.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then as to his own. The administration of his -father's estate would eventually secure a total sum of -£4,300 to each of the four children of the Rev. Ambrose -Brentham, including the amount they had -recently received by deed of gift. This with other odds -and ends of savings, gave Roger a capital of £5,000 to -draw on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As soon as Lucy was well over her accouchement in -January (1891), he had several long and confidential -conversations with Arthur Broadmead, that friend in -need to so many men who had fallen into holes of their -own digging, and who sought rectification by extending -the bounds of empire and making two blades of -grass to grow where but one had grown before. -Several great Anglo-German financiers were seen in the -City. The specimens and the School of Mines' report -thereon were left in their hands: with the result that a -small and select Anglo-German Syndicate was formed -to prospect in the northern part of German East Africa. -Into this pool Captain Brentham put £2,000 and was -constituted for three years head of the enterprise with -a good salary and very large discretion as to means -and methods of developing the Happy Valley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To Maud he next imparted his plans, and to his -surprise they were received with cordial approval.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're </span><em class="italics">quite</em><span> right, Roger, I'm sure you've taken -the road that will most probably lead to happiness and -fortune. Lucy is certain to fall in with your scheme. -She can stay on in England till her baby's weaned—it -was sweet of you both to call it after me—I was so -certain you were going to name it 'Sibyl'! Then -she can place both the children with their grandparents -at Aldermaston and come out and join you. And what -is more, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> will come too! I should </span><em class="italics">love</em><span> to!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There now remained—he could not say "only -remained," it was too portentous a crisis—the final -scene with Sibyl. He thought it over many a night -when he could not sleep, many a morning when he was -going through estate business with her and she was -leaning unnecessarily over his shoulder or furtively -pinching the lobe of his ear. A written good-bye, and -then immediate departure, would be cruel, and Sibyl -might afterwards revenge herself on Lucy, left behind -defenceless; or on Maurice. There were, besides, -points of business he must discuss with her before -leaving; at any rate give her the chance of asking questions -and receiving answers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So he summoned up courage one morning and telegraphed -he wished to see her that afternoon in London. -She was up for the "little season" which follows -Christmas.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was shown into her library at 6A, Carlton House -Terrace. She had come in from skating at Princes, -had changed into a wonderful tea-gown and was lying -on a long couch over which a magnificent tiger skin -had been thrown. A small inlaid Moorish table held -a tea-tray.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span>: "Have some tea? Tell him before he goes -out" (referring to the retreating footman).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "Thanks very much, no. I have had tea -and I've got a lot to tell you. So I don't want to lose -time." (The door clicks to.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span>: "Well. You're very solemn. Draw up a -chair. Come to give me a month's warning? But to -do that you ought to stand...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "That's exactly what I </span><em class="italics">have</em><span> come for...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span>: "Roger! </span><em class="italics">Don't</em><span> make horrid jokes. You -wouldn't be so base—so—ungrateful—as that...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "It isn't an act of baseness, that's -certain; and as to ingratitude, I think by going away I am -doing the best thing altogether, so far as </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> are -concerned. No!" (she is rising and pushing the tea-table -out of her way as a preparation for drama). "You -must let me explain myself—and </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> let us discuss this -</span><em class="italics">quietly</em><span>, not as though we were acting a scene on the -stage. Sibyl! Really the least said, soonest mended. -We are in an </span><em class="italics">impossible</em><span> position.... I blame myself -more than you...." (Sibyl: "Thank you!") "I -am a cad ... an </span><em class="italics">utter</em><span> cad. I loathe myself -sometimes so much I can't look at my face in the glass -or meet my wife's eyes. I am going back to Africa -... going out of your life.... You must forget -all about me ... and marry some decent man." (His -voice sounds strangled and he turns away to -recover himself.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span>: "It seems to me it is you that are becoming -stagey. What does all this mean? Has Lucy found -out we've been lovers and made a fuss? ... Or is -it money? Have you got into debt? </span><em class="italics">Do</em><span> be explicit!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "It's none of these things. I only mean -I have out-stayed my year with you, my trial year, -and now I claim my liberty. I am going once more -to try for a career in Africa ... and..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span> (white with anger): "Well, </span><em class="italics">go</em><span> to Africa! -I never wish to see you again! </span><em class="italics">Go</em><span>! </span><em class="italics">Go</em><span>! </span><em class="italics">Go</em><span>!" (She -half rises as if to expel him with her hands, but -he saves her the trouble, takes up his hat, gloves and -stick, walks out, closes the door of the library gently -and lets himself out of the house.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next day he leaves at the door a tin despatch -box and a letter containing its key. The box has -amongst its contents the bunch of keys he has used on -the Estate, a great bundle of accounts, notes, and -suggestions for the immediate future. In the letter which -accompanies this box he tells Sibyl all about the -arrangement he has made in her Estate Office, advises -her to keep on his brother Maurice who shows signs of -uncommon ability, but for some time yet to retain as -Head Agent Mr. Flower, provisionally engaged for a -year, who is highly recommended by the Institute of -Land Agents. Both alike are now well acquainted -with the affairs of the Silchester Estate.... He asks -her to be kind to Lucy who will remove as soon as she -is strong enough to Aldermaston and meantime -remains at the Lodge under Maud's care. Later on, -when her child is old enough to be left in the -grand-parents' keeping, Lucy and Maud will join him in East -Africa. His address in London till he leaves for -Marseilles on February 28 will be Pardew's Hotel....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He will never forget her kindness ... </span><em class="italics">never</em><span> ... at -a critical time in his life. And will not say -"good-bye," because when he has "made good" in Africa he -will come back on a holiday and hope to find the -Estate flourishing and Silchester grown into a sturdy boy.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>From what I knew of Sibyl I should say she at first -took the breaking off of their relations very hardly.... -"Agony, rage, despair" ... much pacing up -and down the library.... Passionate letters half-written, -then torn up into small fragments and thrown -into the fire. Then—for she was a slave to her large -household and magnificent mode of life—her maid -Sophie enters the library and reminds My Lady that -she is due that night to dine at the Italian Embassy. -So Sibyl has to submit to be coiffed, dressed, jewelled, -and driven off in a brougham—a little late, and that -intrudes on her mind, because she has heard you -should never be late to an Ambassador's invitation, it -is a sort of </span><em class="italics">lèse-majesté</em><span>. But to cope with the -demands made on her, she has to force her heart-break -to the back of her mind and sustain her reputation for -gay beauty, daring expression, and alert wit—in -French as well as English. There was a Royalty there -to whom she had to curtsey and with whom she had to -sustain a raillery, shot with malice, which required -considerable brain-concentration; for though the -retorts must call forth further bursts of laughter from -the chorus that watched the duel, they must be free -from the slightest impertinence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger's abrupt leave-taking only remained like a -dull ache behind her vivid consciousness of triumph, -of celebrated men, bestarred with orders, swathed with -ribbons; of women sparkling with jewels and rippling -in silks; of a Prince who might "make" you with a -smile or "mar" you with a frown; of many enemies -concealed as friends; of wonderful music and exquisite -food, for which she had no appetite. It was not until -she had re-entered her dressing-room to be unrobed -that she had once more the mind-space to reconsider -Roger's farewell and what life would mean to her -without his constant companionship. Then, foreseeing -otherwise a ghastly night of turning things over -and over in her thoughts, she told Sophie she had bad -neuralgia; and opening a tiny little casquet with a tiny -little gold key on her bangle she took from it the -materials for a sleeping draught, compounded them -cautiously—she was the last person in the world to -commit suicide, even by mistake—swallowed the dose and -half an hour afterwards slipped into oblivion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next morning she awoke with the inevitable -headache, and the heartache returned. But there was -the breakfast tray to distract her thoughts, and there -were the morning letters. Among these was an -invitation to meet an Oriental Potentate in very select -company—an opportunity for display which she had -coveted—and an invitation to dine with the -Archbishop of Canterbury and Mrs. Benson, which she had -sought for, as she wanted to allure the young Bensons -into her circle of "souls."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She then reflected, while having her hair brushed, -that it might be just as well that the breach with Roger -had come before she had been in any way tarnished -by the breath of scandal. People had already chaffed -her about her handsome Land Agent. She would act -so as to throw dust in their eyes, and certainly not -play the part of </span><em class="italics">la maîtresse délaissée</em><span>. Later on in the -morning, therefore, she wrote to Lucy saying she had -accepted Roger's resignation with the </span><em class="italics">deepest</em><span> regret, -but would not stand between him and his beloved -Africa. Yet she hoped Lucy would not </span><em class="italics">think</em><span> of leaving -the Lodge until she was perfectly strong. She also -told Roger's successor, Mr. Flower, she had confirmed -the arrangement Captain Brentham had outlined -and requested him to call on her in the following week.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the afternoon of that day she issued the instruction -"Not at home," intending to retire to her -bedroom and have a good cry. But the full indulgence in -this luxury was baulked by the announcement of her -cousin Maud Brentham. Maud's name some while -ago had been put on the short list of people to whom -"Not at home" did not apply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maud had really been asked to call by the timorous -Roger to see how Sibyl was "taking it." So Sibyl, -divining this, received her affectionately; and only -complained of the excessive brilliance of the ambassadorial -party of the night before and the dead set made at her -by the Prince having reduced her this following afternoon -to the condition of a doll with the sawdust escaping -from every seam. She talked quite calmly of -Roger's approaching departure and the arrangement of -Lucy's affairs after he had gone. "Why can't you -and she transfer yourselves from the Lodge to the -House at Engledene and stay there indefinitely, till you -take ship for Africa and golden joys? Lucy's a -god-send with poor nervous, peevish little Clithy. I </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> -leave the child there a good deal at present. He looks -very peeky if he comes to London. And at Easter I -shall shut up this house and go off to travel for -a long time...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But not to East Africa, I trust...?" said Maud -with some anxiety.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maud! You're a </span><em class="italics">toad</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When two very sad women came to Victoria on an -appallingly cold and foggy morning to take leave of -Roger—who was departing for Paris-Marseille to -join his steamer—they were joined by a third, -accompanied by an aloof footman carrying wraps; and books -for Roger's solace on the journey. Sibyl put her arm -round Lucy's waist, as they were saying farewell; and -Roger having kissed his wife—most tenderly—and -his sister—hesitated for one second, and then kissed -Sibyl too.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics">From Roger Brentham to his Wife.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>H.B.M. Agency,</span></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Unguja,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">March</em><span> 29, 1891.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>[Very near the second anniversary of our -happy marriage. Barely two years married -and already two children. I wonder how -baby Maud is getting on?]</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>DEAREST LUCE,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I sent you a cable from Port Said saying "All right -thus far." I hope you got it? I arrived here by the -French steamer yesterday.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I enjoyed the journey to Paris and Marseilles. But -after we had left that port for a very stormy -Mediterranean I went through a beastly time. I would -have given everything I possessed—except you—to -find myself back at Engledene and with all these -African plans undone. I have led such a full life within -the last two years, have had the very best of England; -and the flatness of existence on an old-fashioned -steamer came home to me crushingly during the nine -days' voyage between Marseilles and Port Said. Such -a hush after the noisy whirlpool of life in London in -Sibyl's circle; or even the gay doings at Engledene -when we had got over the first of our mourning for -the poor old Pater. There were no newspapers and -no news—nine days completely out of the world. No -one on board I knew and no one who had ever heard -of me. It brought home to me my utter insignificance! -I felt a bit better when we passed through the Suez -Canal. The sound of Arabic always stimulates me to -adventure. The cold weather left us in the Red Sea. -I passed most of my time mugging up Swahili again -and trying to revive my Arabic with some Syrians who -were on board. Aden cheered me up considerably. -There were the jolly laughing Somalis once again, and -I engaged four bright boys to go with me as servants -and gun-carriers out hunting. You could light up a -dark passage with their flashing teeth! When we -reached Unguja I admit I felt some uncomfortableness. -It is so awkward returning as a person of no -status to a place where one has been an official. But -as you know, I had taken the precaution, a month -before I started, of writing confidentially to Sir -Godfrey Dewburn about my plans and intentions. The -Dewburns </span><em class="italics">could not have been kinder</em><span>. He sent the -Agency boat to meet me with one of the new Vice-Consuls -in it, and here I am at the Agency, installed as -their guest till I can assemble my </span><em class="italics">safari</em><span> and get -away up-country. Lady Dewburn plies me with questions -about you and our children....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dewburns are expecting promotion to a -diplomatic post—possibly Persia. They feel their work -here is done, now that the Anglo-German Treaty is -ratified and Unguja is a British protectorate. The -treaty has had the best effect on Anglo-German -relations here and incidentally on my prospects of -co-operation. I am to see Wissmann as soon as I land -at Medinat-al-Barkah. Eugene Schräder, who is -all-powerful in Anglo-German finance, has written out to -him. I have little doubt we shall get a Concession over -the Happy Valley for our syndicate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Landing at Medina will be a little out of the direct -route to Irangi, but I shall travel across the Nguru -country, now quite pacified and safe, and try to take -Hangodi on the way to Ugogo. What associations -the sight of it will revive if I do! That halting-place -below the great rise, where we had tea together in the -shade when I met you in your machila with Halima, -and you were so taken aback that you called me -"darling"—</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> haven't forgotten! And talking of Halima, -reminds me to say that she sends you her many salaams. -Andrade is cook with the Dewburns and Halima has -some function as housemaid. I have arranged when -the Dewburns go that Andrade is to join me; so when -you come out, my darling, Halima shall be there to -wait on you and on Maud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It'll be rather horrid meeting the Bazzards again -at Medina. They returned recently from a long -holiday in England—an East Coast watering-place -chiefly, where Bazzard, who doesn't know a yacht from -a barge, got elected to the local Yachting Club. I hear -that Mrs. B. looks forward confidently to her husband -succeeding Dewburn when the latter is promoted; but -I think there is not the slightest chance of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Stotts must have got my letter by now telling -them I was on my way. Of course there has been no -time for a reply. But Callaway tells me the last news -of them was good. I have already picked up quite -a third of my Wanyamwezi "faithfuls" who were -hanging about Unguja since Willowby Patterne's -</span><em class="italics">safari</em><span> was paid off. That man is a </span><em class="italics">scoundrel</em><span>! He -came out here and made free use of my name, -pretending even he had letters from me which he never -produced. He therefore got favours and concessions -and secured my original hundred men—or what was -left of them. His tour through the Mvita hinterland -was one long sickening path of slaughter: he and his -companion—a poor youth who was often down with -dysentery and whom Patterne treated brutally—must -have killed about three times the amount of game they -could use for food or trophies. His ravages even -shocked his carnivorous porters and annoyed the -natives. Do you know, I think he must have had just a -glimmering about the existence of the Happy Valley—he -was always following me about at Glen Sporran -and cocking an eye at my correspondence. Because -though ostensibly only big-game slaughtering they -made straight for the </span><em class="italics">south</em><span> side of Kilimanjaro -(instead of keeping to the British Sphere); and when the -</span><em class="italics">safari</em><span> reached Arusha ya Juu he tried to get guides for -"Manyara"—the porters swear he used the word. -He cross-questioned some of them as to where they -had been with you and me. However, fortunately he -had an odd trick of getting himself hated by all the -native tribes he met, as well as by his own porters, -whom he used to flog atrociously. (They tell -disgusting stories about these floggings which I cannot put -down on paper.) When his caravan got past the -slopes of Meru it fell in with "our Masai," as I call -them. And then it was like one of the old fairy stories -of the bad girl who tried to follow the good girl down -the well into fairyland, and couldn't remember the -countersign. Instead of hitting it off with the Masai -he vexed them in some way and at last they turned on -him and forced his </span><em class="italics">safari</em><span> to go back to Kilimanjaro. -At least the Wanyamwezi porters refused to continue -the journey, which comes to the same thing. He has -left for England—I am glad to say—or I might -have fallen foul of him. The two of them killed -enough ivory to pay the costs of the whole outfit. So -he swears he is coming back again and will then take -a large body of armed men with him and wipe out the -Masai.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now I must bring this long letter to a close. Much -love to dear old Maud, and my most respectful -greetings to my cousin and late employer. I found her -fame for beauty, wit, and dominance over Society had -reached even to Unguja.... In fact I rather winced -at turning over three-months-old illustrated papers -here and seeing pictures of her in wonderful costumes -or—in the magazines—as a type of English beauty.... -How far away it all seems!...</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Your loving</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>RODGE.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics">From the same to the same.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>German Headquarters,</span></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Medinat-al-Barka,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">April</em><span> 30, 1891.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAREST,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You will be rather surprised that a month has gone -by and I have got no nearer my goal than this! But -firstly I went down with a bad go of fever—all right -now—and secondly I could not hustle von Wissmann, -who is Imperial Commissioner here and who has been -very kind—and thirdly the rains are so appalling just -now that overland travelling is well-nigh impossible till -the country dries up a little. But I am not losing my -time otherwise. I am getting everything fixed up with -the Germans, and next shall only have to arrive at an -understanding with the natives. The boundaries of -our Concession (which will include the Stotts) cover -the Happy Valley from the water-parting between the -Bubu and the Kwou on the south to the escarpment at -the north end of the lake, and on east and west -include all the water-shed of Lake Manyara, Iraku and -Fiome. So they have dealt with us generously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wissmann I like immensely. He is a great man and -has the interests of the real natives thoroughly at -heart. Our old friends the Stotts have impressed him -favourably and they are to be woven into my schemes -of development. Wissmann from the first asked me -to put up at his headquarters and treated me like a -colleague in the opening up of Africa. So I was saved -the disagreeableness of staying at my former Consulate -with the Bazzards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bazzard has been sickly in her protestations of -friendship, utterly insincere as you know. I fancy -she is turning her pen now on Sir Godfrey, in the hope -she may oust </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>. Considering how kind the -Dewburns were to them it is odious to note how she tries -to disparage him....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There is not much news from the interior. I hear -that Ali-bin-Ferhani got rewarded by the Germans for -saving Hangodi Station, and that Mbogo is still chief -there in name, the real chief of the district being Ann -Anderson, or Mgozimke—"The man-woman," as the -natives call her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In haste to catch the mail....</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Your loving</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>ROGER.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics">From the same to the same.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Mwada,</span></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>The Happy Valley,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">July</em><span> 28, 1891.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>MY OWN DEAR WIFE,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I reached the shores of the lake—which I now find -is called Lawa ya mweri—and the end of the Happy -Valley on—as near as I can reckon—June 20. (The -Stotts have no almanacs and are quite indifferent to -dates, times, seasons; they live under some enchantment, -they tell me, since they came here, like the legends -of people carried off to Fairyland.) I met Mr. Stott -at Burungi, which now looks a flourishing -station. The Wagogo seem to me quite recalcitrant to -Christianity, but the Stotts have to keep this up as a -depôt for their traffic with the coast, and they are -helped in this by the German Government.... Stott -and I journeyed together through the Irangi country -almost in state. The Stotts have become enormously -popular as "medicine men." They have stopped -epidemics of small-pox by vaccinating the people, have -shown them how to stay the ravages of the burrowing -fleas, and they are making a dead set against -infanticide, having found one or two leading chiefs sufficiently -intelligent to appreciate the importance of a large -population. Formerly, as you may remember, there was -such a prejudice against female babies that they were -often exposed to the hyenas outside the tembe, and all -children who came into the world by an irregular -presentation, or with a tooth already through the gum, -likewise all twins, were either thrown into the lake or -abandoned to the carnivorous ants or prowling -carnivores. (There is a curious legend here—Stott -says—that sometimes these unhappy infants were picked -up by female baboons of the Chakma type and nursed -by them with their own offspring.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well: you can imagine, having lived already in these -parts, what the infant death-rate amounted to. But -the local chiefs having had the whole theory exposed -to them have sanctioned a crusade against infanticide -for any reason. The Wa-rangi have further been -persuaded to abandon the custom of burning alive women -suspected of adultery. I did not like to tell you at -the time, but as we passed through the Irangi country -in November, '88, they were actually killing unfortunate -women in this manner. They believe that if a -man goes out hunting and makes a bad miss in throwing -his spear or assegai at an elephant it is because his -wife is untrue to him at home! So when he returns -from the chase his wretched spouse is trussed up and -bound to the top of a great pile of brushwood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Consequently, at several of the Irangi villages on our -way up the Bubu valley the women who were the wives -of sporting duffers came out in deputations to dance -round the worthy Stott till they quite embarrassed him; -especially as the dances were of an indelicate nature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Stotts have now quite a nice-looking station -to the south-east of the main lake, on a grassy rise -with the Mburu river on the south and a much smaller -salt lake on the east. This looks like sparkling ice -under the sun and is nearly solid—? salt—? soda. -Its borders seem to be a kind of salt lick for the game -which is once more swarming and singularly tame. -There are no rhinos, fortunately, and the tricky -tempered elephants and buffaloes prefer the wooded -regions farther north and west. The lions, leopards and -chitas are so glutted with food that they leave the -domestic cattle and human beings alone; and the myriad -zebras, antelopes, elands, bushbuck, giraffes, wart-hogs -and ostriches are quite willing to live at peace with -mankind. Secretary birds and saddle-billed storks are -numerous and keep the snakes down; marabou storks -and vultures devour all the carrion and even the filth -round the native villages—so the country seems -healthy. Enormous flocks of crowned cranes and -bustards look after the locusts and grasshoppers. The -flamingoes by the lake shore are as numerous as they -were in our time....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Stotts' station is built after the fashion of the -native houses of the district: long, continuous, -one-storied "tembes" forming a hollow square, inside -which the cattle and sheep are kept at night....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But what I am longing to describe is the country of -Iraku. I went there with Stott, you may remember, -whilst we stayed waiting for news of poor John Barnes. -I was immensely taken with it then. But now I have -seen it more in detail I am enthusiastic. It resembles—I -can't help saying—a little Abyssinia—from all -I have heard and read of Abyssinia, though it is not -at such great altitudes. Its natives are actually -related in speech and type to those of Southern -Abyssinia. I should estimate the average height at five -thousand feet, with ridges, peaks and craters touching -seven or eight thousand; so that the temperature is -almost perfect—nights always cool, not to say cold. -It is a fertile, fruitful land of ups and downs, richly -forested valleys, plenty of streams, grassy uplands like -the Berkshire downs: indeed a very English-looking -country. Somewhere here, not far from the -escarpment and the Happy Valley, we will have our home, -dearest, and here you and Maud shall join me as soon -as ever you can come out. How I </span><em class="italics">long</em><span> for that -coming. There are times when, in spite of the Stotts and -their cheeriness, I feel sick with melancholy and -loneliness. The change from that English life has been too -abrupt. As soon as ever little Maud is weaned and -able to be left with your mother you must pack up and -come. My Agents in the City, Messrs. Troubridge, -who pay you (I hope) your allowance quarterly, have -all my instructions as to your passage, and Maud's, -your outfit, etc. Once I can get you two out here I -shall settle down contentedly enough and make a -fortune—I doubt not—on which, some day, we can -retire and live happily ever afterwards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meantime as I have written very fully, only show -this letter to Maud and say as little as possible about -it to Sibyl, lest she repeat my account of the Happy -Valley to that scoundrel, Patterne. She says she never -sees him now, and she certainly ought not to after the -reputation he has left behind in East Africa; but as -likely as not she will resume the acquaintance, and he -is the last sort of person I wish to meet in these -parts.... Mrs. Stott of course sends love to you and the -kindest greetings. Her enthusiasm for her Creator is -unabated, because they have so far had wonderful good -fortune since they blundered into this haven of rest -and beauty in October, 1888. If one or other of them -did not have once in a way to go down to the coast -they would enjoy—she says—perfect health....</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Your loving</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>ROGER.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="five-years-later"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">FIVE YEARS LATER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Roger Brentham has now lived consecutively -for five years in the Happy Valley; or, to be -accurate, at Magara, in a natural fortress looking down -on it from the Iraku escarpment. Much of his work, -however, lies in the plains below, and he has a -comfortable rest-house near the Stotts' station—but not -too near, for Kaya la Balalo[#]—as they have named -it—is now the centre of a considerable native village, -a little too noisy, dusty, and smelly for fastidious -nerves and noses.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] "The City of God."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In these five years a great transformation has taken -place in and around the Happy Valley. A land -settlement has been come to with the natives and is duly -laid down in a rough survey and in signed documents -drawn up in German and Swahili. The native villages, -plantations, pasture ground and reserves are clearly -defined so that they may be placed outside the scope -of white encroachment; but in coming to this -agreement, some common-sense regard has been had for -highly mineralized land not already inhabited and -suitable for profitable exploitation (with a share of the -profits going to the native community) and for the -location of European settlements, farms, mission -stations, laboratories and experimental plantations. In -short, both parties are satisfied. There is sufficient -security for the investment of much white capital in this -region of undeveloped wealth; and the Negroes are -reassured regarding their homes and future prospects -of expansion. They have been shrewd bargainers and -have had the Stotts as their advocates. The news of -their fair and even generous treatment has attracted -considerable native immigration, especially from the -Nyamwezi countries; Brentham's Wa-nyamwezi porters -have been useful recruiting agents, and the district -is well off for labour. The native chiefs administer -rough justice as between native and native. Brentham -and three of his German colleagues, as well as -Mr. Ewart Stott, hold commissions from the German -Government as justices of the peace, and there is a German -commandant at a central post in the Irangi country -who presides over a Court of Appeal from their -decisions. But as a rule, these Concessionaires having -originally inspired confidence in von Wissmann's mind -during his great pacification of German East Africa -are left pretty free to administer the area of their large -Concession and to keep order within its limits. This, -with the cordial co-operation of the native chiefs they -find comparatively easy, and in this the friendship -between Roger and the outlying Masai tribes, who have -not forgotten the blood-brotherhood of 1888 has been -very useful. The Happy Valley has nothing to fear -from Masai raids and has at present no outside enemies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy and Maud joined Roger in the spring of 1892 -and after four years' happy life in this curiously -secluded region—so cut off as it was from African -troubles, from wars between Arabs and Europeans raids -of tribe upon tribe, risings against the Germans, -squabbles with British pioneers—are now preparing to -return to England. Lucy has had two more children -one born in 1893 and the other in 1895. She is -anxious to take them both home and place them in safety -there; at the same time she hungers for a sight of the -older two whom she has not seen for over four years. -She is in fact a prey to that divided allegiance which -has so often marred the happiness of the wives of men -engaged in Indian or African work: a desire to be -with their husbands, and yet an anxiety about the -health and bringing-up of their children in a barbaric -environment. The Stotts consider they have solved -this question by parting with their oldest child and -letting their other children run the African risks and -grow up—if they survive—with only an African -outlook. They are true colonists in intention. But -settlers like the Brenthams always envisage an eventual -retreat to the home country and an English education -for their children.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They are assembled on the open ground beyond the -garden of their house in Iraku, to take leave of their -German associates in the Concession: Herr Treuherz -Hildebrandt (whose sentimental fore-name is usually -disguised under the initial T) and Dr. Wolfgang -Wiese. Hildebrandt is the mining engineer who is -ascertaining the mineral wealth of the mountain region -bordering on the Happy Valley; Dr. Wiese, besides -being in case of need the physician and surgeon of the -little European community, is a very clever analytical -chemist, botanist, zoologist and horticulturist, one of -those all-round men that Germany so often produced -before the war and so often contributed in still earlier -days to the opening up of the British Empire. He has -arrived in haste from his dwelling a mile distant to -bid farewell to the gracious Mrs. Brentham. Wiese -is spectacled and bearded, a little shy in manner with -strangers, and inclined to melancholy when his thoughts -turn to the young wife who accompanied him to Africa -about the time that Lucy and Maud came out to join -husband and brother. Less fortunate than they, she -had died from an attack of coast fever. Thereafter -he had found some mitigation of his loneliness in the -pleasant home created by Lucy and Maud, so that he -regards them with affection and thinks they must be -the very best type of British women. As, however, he -has work in progress at his laboratory of crucial -importance, his farewells are prompt and soon -concluded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But his colleague, the mining engineer Hildebrandt, -stays longer, being very loath to part with Maud -Brentham. He is tall, passably handsome, soldierly, -well-knit, a lint-white blond with violet-grey eyes like -Lucy's. Though he comes from Saxony he is more of -the Friesland type, in the contrast between his -straw-yellow hair (mostly shaved to stubble, it is true) and -his dark-grey eyes. He has the further attraction to -which many women would succumb in being very -musical (out of business hours). In those days before -gramophones he was a welcome guest for the music -which welled up in his brain and poured from his -fingers. Roger had managed with infinite difficulty to -import and carry up on an ox-cart a cottage piano of -German make, and on this instrument Hildebrandt -would waft his listeners to other scenes—of far away -and long ago—with his waltzes, sonatas, minuets, -marches, and songs without words, sometimes playing -by ear with that wonderful musician's memory; -sometimes, when he took things seriously, from the -enormous supply of printed music which a sympathetic -company had allowed him to carry up-country.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A year after their first meeting he had proposed to -Maud, and had renewed this offer of marriage on two -other occasions. But she had been firm in her refusal, -though she appreciated his good looks and frank -manliness, and almost loved him for his music. But she -declared the difference in their ages—twelve years—was -an insuperable objection; secondly she did not wish -to marry, so that she might always live with Roger and -Lucy and their children. If they failed her she would -make a career of her own—become a New Woman -and agitate for women's rights. "On top of all that, -nothing would induce me to live in Germany, though -I've no doubt you are in the right, and it's the finest -country in the world. But I'm so interested in -watching English developments. When we have finished -with Africa and made our pile we're going to settle at -home and improve our own country."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well then, if you'll marry me, I'll go and live in -England with you...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Maud has remained obdurate. In spite of this -they have settled down in course of time, and in -battling together against the anxieties, difficulties, and -dangers of African colonization, into very good -comrades. Maud and Roger and even Lucy all speak -German to some extent, and the Germans of the -Concession have an even greater facility in English. -Conversation is often a medley of both languages and -much laughter at each other's mistakes. Lucy -contributes to the common stock of entertainment very -little in the way of talent. She is naturally fond of -music: sweet melodies, deep harmonies bring the tears -into her eyes; gay tunes make her want to dance; but -she is no musician and no dancer. Maud has a pleasant -contralto voice and is a good accompanist. Lucy's -water-colour painting has long since been given up as a -futility in this age of universal talent. But she makes -botanical collections now with some deftness and ability -under the instruction of Dr. Wiese, whom in this -direction she really helps. Yet considering she has borne -four healthy children in six years of marriage no one -can ask much from her in the way of accomplishment -in the arts; and by the time she has attended to her -offspring's needs with the perfunctory help of -Halima—herself saddled with two brown hybrids, bearing -extravagant Portuguese names—mended their clothes -and her husband's, and her own, and generally directed -the housekeeping, it is felt she has done her duty to the -little community. Nevertheless though she is not -particularly witty, original, or wise, and has no great -physical attraction for any one but her husband, and -is prone at times to be silent with a gentle melancholy, -she has an inherent gift for making people feel at home. -She has a capacity for listening unweariedly to the -longest stories, and is a sympathetic confidant to any -one in trouble.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Bergwerksingenieur Hildebrandt said good-bye -to her with nearly as much sentiment as infused his -voice and his hand-grip when he took leave of his -liebste Kamerad, "Meess Mowd" (Maud always said -that his pronunciation of her name robbed his -courtship of all romance). He looks indeed so sad at -parting from these two dear Englishwomen that Maud is -nearly tempted to kiss him; only that he might have -misconstrued her motherliness.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The two children in the early morning—it is just -after sunrise—are laughing and crowing with the -excitement of the forming </span><em class="italics">safari</em><span> and the coming start. -The three-year-old boy, Ambrose, is named after his -grandfather; the baby girl has been called Sibyl at her -mother's request. In all probability Lucy had never -even so much as suspected that there was more than -cousinly affection between her husband and Lady -Silchester: it would have taken something like ocular -evidence to make her doubt Roger's fidelity. At first -Sibyl had frightened and humbled her, but during the -last year of their association, at Engledene, she had -been coolly kind and had shown something like -gratitude for Lucy's care of her ugly fretful little boy. -Before Lucy had left to rejoin her husband in East -Africa, Sibyl had said: "I expect you'll have a lot more -children. If you have another girl, call it by my -name. I should like to be associated with a child of -Roger's. Promise? Very well then: in return I'll -give an eye to little John and fat Maud whilst you are -in Africa. Indeed I cannot see why they shouldn't -move over here from Aldermaston, when your own -people get tired of them; and share Clithy's nursery.... -At any rate come here on visits, and if they quarrel -it will do Clithy a world of good. His nurses give -him too much sense of his own importance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So there was at least this pleasant thing for them -to look forward to, even though Lucy's eyes were wet -with tears at leaving Iraku. Engledene Lodge as well -as Church Farm would be open to them. Sibyl, more -ambitious than ever of cutting a dash, playing a part in -modern history, rivalling Lady Feenix, revenging -herself for snubs by the Brinsley clan, lived much in -London and gave up Engledene to the quiet bringing-up -of her only child. When she went down there it was -to rest and repair her beauty, to transact humdrum -estate business with Maurice Brentham. Except for -the autumn shooting parties she entertained very little -at Engledene. It was in Scotland and above all in -London that she played the lavish hostess and sought -to undermine Cabinets and bring a new recruit to the -Opposition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was now thirty-four, and when animated only -looked twenty-six. Rumour had assigned her several -love affairs, which out of England—on the Riviera, -at Paris, at Rome—were said to have been carried to -the borders of indiscretion. It had even been -announced that "a marriage had been arranged and -would shortly take place," etc., between Lady Silchester -and Sir Elijah Tooley—but the announcement had -been promptly contradicted, and a month after occurred -the first resounding crack in the Tooley edifice....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was curious how her personality projected itself -across five thousand miles of land and sea into -Equatorial Africa; so that Lucy and perhaps Roger should -both have been thinking about her as they were -preparing to leave their home in this secluded region. -Lucy thought of Sibyl pleasantly as of one she no -longer feared because she never desired to cross her -path as a rival, or contest her superiority. Sibyl would -offer her a temporary home in her home country where -her children could be riotously happy, and where -Roger—even—might be tempted to join her for a few -months before resuming his strenuous life as a -conqueror of the wilderness. Roger had held out this -hope to alleviate the sadness of their approaching -separation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was to accompany his wife and sister as far as -Burungi; after which he must return to the Iraku Hills -to take full advantage of the dry-season months for -great projected developments of the planting and -mining industries. From Burungi, now quite an -important centre of traffic, whence well-made roads proceed -coastwards, with rest-houses every twenty miles, Lucy -and Maud and the precious children would be escorted -to the coast port of their embarkation by the two -German sergeants, whose service Brentham has taken over -from the Stotts. Their journey might be broken by -a few days' rest at Hangodi in the Nguru country. -Maud would like to see the scene of the tragedy and -of Lucy's induction into African life. Lucy would -like to pay a visit of sentiment to John Baines's grave -and to live over again in a sense of contrite -reminiscence her brief experiences as a missionary's wife. -She wants to put herself back in time to where the -outlook seemed hopeless, and realize the wide horizon -of happiness which now seems open before her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So—an hour late, with all these last thoughts, -musing reflections and leave-takings—Halima is howling -with grief because she must remain behind—the caravan -starts on its first day's march. Lucy from delicacy -of constitution is unable to ride much, so she travels -in a machila with her baby. Maud bestrides a Maskat -donkey and hopes when she returns they will by that -time have got horses safely through the tsetse belt, -into interior transport ... "you have so little -initiative on a donkey, it will never do anything -unconventional." Ambrose being thought too young to ride a -donkey is handed over to his special guardian and -chum, a tall Manyamwezi porter who hoists him on to -his broad shoulders. From this elevation of six feet -he surveys the landscape as the </span><em class="italics">safari</em><span> swings along. -Some German friend had given him the previous -Christmas a tin trumpet, and with blasts of this and -shouts of glee he hails the sight of game standing at -gaze in the distance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This would have annoyed any sportsman of the caravan -had they been bent on killing for the pot or the -trophy; but his father lets him do this unrebuked. He -is not intending to transgress his own by-laws about -game preservation, and the caravan in these bountiful -days has its food supply ensured from station to -station. Still Roger reflects musingly as he rides up hill -and down hill through the breadth of the Happy Valley -and up to the low ridge and water-partings which -mark its limit and the commencement of the long -descent through Irangi, that in one respect the glamour -of the Happy Valley has already withered under the -practical need for developing its resources. Though -there has been no deliberate big-game slaughter in -hecatombs as on the British side of the frontier, the -Grant's gazelles, the hartebeests and tsesebes, the -elands, zebra, and impala are never to be seen now -grazing near the road. They are retreating every year -farther into the unprofitable wastes away from the -well-beaten tracks, noisy with the coming and going of -carriers, soldiers, native traders, or ivory hunters. -These last, under some degree of control, are even being -encouraged to pursue the elephants into the recesses -of the hills and forests of the north; not only to bring -down as much ivory as possible, to sell, but because the -elephant has met civilization too abruptly. He has -contemptuously knocked down the laboriously erected -telegraph posts, and has snapped and tangled-up the -copper wire. This in its derelict condition is too sore -a temptation to the native accustomed to regard copper -wire as a decorative article of the highest value ... so -many cubits of copper wire would buy a wife. So an -edict has gone forth which Roger himself could not -protest against, that between Burungi and Kondoa any -one, native or European, may kill as many elephants -as he pleases. The native herdsmen, again, whom they -pass on the road lazily minding the cattle, sheep and -goats, are no longer in the state of Paradisiac nudity -that characterized them on that first journey of Roger -and Lucy down the Happy Valley. No one has -remonstrated with them on their nakedness: a hint from -Dame Fashion has been enough. The white men and -the white men's black followers have been clothed, -so they too must wear old uniforms, old coats, old -trousers, something in the way of frowsy coverings of -their bronze bodies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The vulgarization of Africa has begun. Never -again will there be seen in this region a condition of -unspoilt Nature as it first showed itself to the -Brenthams. But as a set-off Roger draws Lucy's attention -to the telegraph line in course of re-erection, after the -rude elephantine protests. It is proceeding to a great -German military post, but a branch will presently be -carried to Iraku—almost as soon as she is back in -Berkshire—and </span><em class="italics">then</em><span> he and she will be in close touch. -It will be possible, at a cost of a few pounds, to -telegraph to one another and receive the answer in a -day—two days at most.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is four years since the Brenthams saw Burungi, -for Roger's journeys, meantime, have ranged farther -and farther afield towards the mysterious—still -mysterious—region between the Happy Valley and the -shores of the Victoria Nyanza. Even then, when -Roger rode there to meet his wife and Maud on their -journey inland—Maud's first introduction to Real -Africa—the desolate Burungi of 1888 was no longer -recognizable, with its wilderness of thorn bushes and -baobabs on which gorged vultures were perching, its -lurking lions and hyenas, as the evening darkened, its -flitting, furtive, thievish Wagogo, the ruined station -of the Stotts, and no other visible sign of habitation. -Even four years ago, though the vultures were still -there, it was to feed on the offal of a well-supplied -market-place, the thorn bushes had been burnt for -firewood or cut up for fences, and a corrugated iron hut -on the Stotts' site, though villainously hot in sunshine, -provided shelter and security for stores. Now there -were brick houses and a number of grass huts on the -Mission enclosure near the river. There were -half-finished Government buildings in course of erection and -many tents for the accommodation of a staff of -military officials and constantly saluting white civilians. -A number of clothed Wagogo, looking singularly mean -in their garments—though without them they were -lithe and graceful savages—were, under the raucous -directions of a white engineer-sergeant, laying down -a light Decauville railway.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All these activities had not for the time being made -Burungi less ugly, and Roger hated the sight of the -place. After a long conference with the two -civil-spoken German sergeants, who a year previously had -been truly thankful to exchange the military career -for employment under his Company, he went through -the agony of good-bye—an agony he would not protract -by spending the night in this noisy, discomfortable -place. He compressed his embraces of wife and -children—the latter mystified and yowling with the -dim realization of bereavement—his wringing of -Maud's hands, his directions to telegraph at every -opportunity till they got on board, and hang the -cost—into two hours; after which, though only two more -hours of daylight remained, he rode away, back to -their camp of the previous night: knowing that further -lingering might end in his deciding to accompany these -two dear women and prattling babes all the way to the -coast and perhaps all the way to England.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And it was essential to their future welfare that he -should stay where he was and not claim a holiday till -certain results had been achieved and certain proofs -of easily exploited wealth had been obtained.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was a melancholy Roger who, six days afterwards, -rode back into the lovely amphitheatre in the -Iraku hills where he had made his home. His Maskat -donkey showed signs of having being hard ridden; his -carriers averred that Master, ordinarily so considerate -of their fatigue, so jolly on the line of march, had -spurred them on remorselessly, had seemed to pass -wakeful nights and had eaten his camp meals with poor -appetite. Roger himself felt a few more partings like -this would make his earthly life unbearable. Oh that -there </span><em class="italics">were</em><span> some truth in the silly hymn chorus that the -Stotts delighted in making their pupils sing: "Here -we meet to </span><em class="italics">part no more</em><span>, </span><em class="italics">part</em><span> no more, </span><em class="italics">part</em><span> no -more!" He should have been firm with Lucy and bade her stay -till he himself was ready to go. And yet when </span><em class="italics">would</em><span> -he be ready to go, with Phantom Fortune always beckoning -yet never disclosing the final hoard?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was something in Lucy's face which restrained -him from insisting that she should stay. Dr. Wiese -had hinted at a growing anæmia which should be -checked. Her dominating feeling was a fear that she -might lose the precious children born to her here in the -wilderness and be forgotten by those she had left -behind. He must not take the thing too tragically. If -Hildebrandt continued to get these satisfactory assays -and could trace the gold-bearing reef a sufficient -distance towards the western limit of the Concession; or -if on the other hand he could find the matrix of the -diamonds, and not merely these minute brilliants in the -gravel of the mountain streams, their main doubts and -difficulties would be relieved and he could depart for a -holiday at home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The return to his house was some alleviation of his -bereavement. It was so associated with the presence -of wife and sister and of his babies. The afternoon -sun was behind him; it would soon drop below the blue -mountain wall which was a rampart of protection to -the site he had chosen for his European settlement. -How often he and Lucy had stood here in blue shadow -and looked towards the sun-flooded east beyond the -shade of the escarpment, towards the Happy Valley! -This was just such a close to the day as they had loved -to witness three hundred days out of the three hundred -and sixty-five of the year. To the north stretched the -lake of cobalt blue, with its irregular blush-tinted rim -of flamingo hosts. South-east of the lake beyond -lush swamps and green plantations, were the Umbugwe -villages and the Stotts' large station—little points, -clusters, and pencils of brown and white. The whitest -speck was the Stotts' new Chapel. He had been -present at its opening ceremony a month ago—to gratify -Mrs. Stott. Beyond lake and villages were the -gathering masses of mighty mountains, ending -north-eastwards in the snow-tipped pyramid of Meru—on -this clear evening—in the supernatural snowy dome -of Kibô. What a prospect! And yet he would willingly -exchange for it the view over southern Berkshire -from the down of Farleigh Wallop.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He entered his house. The presence of Lucy and -Maud seemed as if it must be material, no: merely -spiritual. He looked into their rooms. They had -been considerately tidied before they left, and showed -little sign of packing up and departure. Lucy was a -good house-wife, he reflected, and she probably judged -that in her absence he might want to entertain guests, -colleagues come on business, Government officials. So -that her room and his sister's were ready prepared for -occupation. The nursery was a little more desolate. -The toys had been given away to Halima's children. -If ever Ambrose and Sibyl came back—and how -unlikely that they would!—they would have grown far -beyond the love of toys. Maud had left most of her -songs on the top of the piano. She could get newer -ones in England. The vases were filled with fresh -flowers from bush and garden. Halima had put them -there, faithful to her mistress's directions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Halima now called him to his tea, on the verandah. -The table was laid with all the care that Lucy was -wont to bestow on it. Andrade the cook had baked -a nice cake and even attempted something resembling -a muffin—a kind of compromise between a muffin and -a tea cake, due to a confounding of Maud's instructions. -Roger's eyes filled with tears. Halima, departing -with a brass tray, answered with two loud sobs in -her facile grief. Yet a few years before she had been -ready to abandon her mistress in distress when she was -stranded in Mr. Callaway's unsavoury depôt at -Unguja. His eyes followed her portly form magnificently -swathed in red Indian cottons, with tolerant good -will. There was a good deal of the humbug about all -these black people, but it was kindly humbug. He was -grateful for this comprehension of his sorrow, for this -effort to carry out his wife's instructions that the -comforts and little elegancies of their home should be -continued after her absence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the tame Crowned cranes came below the -verandah to be fed with bread and cake as Maud had -encouraged them to do. His black-and-tan English -terrier, confined for safety in the cook's quarters during -his absence, had been released and now came tearing -up the steps and rushing along the verandah till it was -in contact with his lowered hand, volleying forth a long -succession of eager barks of joy and whimpers of -hysterical distress and relief at Master's absence and -return....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the evening after dinner Wiese, Hildebrandt and -Riemer (Plantation Manager) came up to pay their -respects to the Herr Direktor and give him an informal -report of all that had occurred during his absence. -They tactfully said little about his bereavement, though -Hildebrandt heaved some theatrical sighs at the sight -of Maud's music on the piano. But they had much to -say in German and English that was interesting and -encouraging. So they sat up late into the night -talking and discussing. Andrade sent them up an -impromptu supper, wine and beer were drunk in the -moderation imposed by their then rarity—owing to -transport difficulties—and when they finally departed -at one in the morning, under the firmament of blazing -stars, with lemon-yellow lanterns to light their path -back to their respective quarters, the grass-widower -betook himself to his couch in a more resigned frame of -mind. There would be great doings, great strokes to -hew out fortunes for all of them, within the next few -months.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A fortnight afterwards, by swift runner from -Kondoa, came a telegraphic message despatched from -Saadani:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Arrived here safely. Leave for Unguja to-morrow. -God bless you.—LUCY MAUD.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Thereafter followed long day-rides of inspection, an -occasional week's absence from home studying possibilities -in remote parts of the Concession, holding -conferences with the Stotts, laying cases and possibilities -of special difficulty before the German officer -commanding at Kondoa. His talks with the Stotts were -directed to several ends: urging the Stotts to get into -the confidence of all the native tribes—Bantu, -Hamitic, Nilotic—of the Concession's area and find out -how far their interests might be subserved by the full -exploitation of the animal, vegetable and mineral -wealth of this patch of East Africa. "Unless we -carry the natives with us," he would say, "this -enterprise must eventually fail, wither up; because, boast -of the climate as we may, the hard manual labour -cannot be performed by white men: we must fall back on -the native. Now half the men-natives in these parts -are picturesque to look at, graceful figure and all that; -but they shirk hard work. They prefer to loll about -in the sun or to run after women. Can't you put some -ambition into 'em? Teach them something besides -these rotten hymns and prayers that are meaningless -to them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But we do," said Mrs. Stott. "You haven't -looked over our school for two years, I believe. You -seem to have got hymn-singing on the brain. Our -hymns translated by us are not rubbish and the natives -enjoy singing them...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't doubt they do, though I don't see what use -it is. Neither they nor the prayers prevent the -Almighty from sending the flights of locusts.... Or -rather these appeals and this excessive praise do not -stimulate the Divine power to do </span><em class="italics">something</em><span> to abate -Africa's myriad plagues. It is always poor Man—and -most of all, poor </span><em class="italics">White</em><span> man—who has to work -his brain and body to exhaustion to set right what -Nature perversely sets wrong. Here am I, trying to -abate the grasshopper plague in our tobacco plantations -by encouraging the domestication of the Crowned -crane. Yet the natives won't take any interest in this -idea, though the Crowned cranes feed themselves and -have charming manners. Can't you push this matter in -your schools? Couldn't you preach a sermon on the -uses of the Crowned crane?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On another occasion he put a further difficulty -before the Ewart Stotts. "Look here! I'm going to -take you again into my confidence. I want you to find -me an assistant, some one of your own kin in Australia -who would come out here at short notice on an -agreement for three years—I even want two men, one of -them versed in shorthand and typewriting who could -be my secretary. I don't know any one in England -who isn't either a rotter or a potential rotter, or hasn't -got a job already. There's my brother Geoffrey, but -he's a Commander now in the Navy, getting on fine, -and simply wouldn't think of chucking the service to -come here. My other brother is well suited as a -land-agent. I want something Australian, some one as like -you two as possible. I don't mind a moderate amount -of religion, as long as it doesn't waste their time on -week-days, and they can't be too teetotal for my liking. -No Whisky-drinker need apply."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I believe we know of the very two, at any -rate of the principal one," said Mrs. Stott: "My -nephew Phil Ewart. I haven't seen him since he was -a baby, but my brother's wife writes to me now and -again and says he's doing very well on a big sheep run -in Queensland...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well then, look here: let's draft a cablegram that -I can send off from the coast. I'll guarantee him a -year's salary and, if he turns out satisfactory, a three -years' agreement—£500 a year. He can choose any -likely young fellow ... good character ... abstainer -... serve as clerk ... £200 a year -commence ... take steamer Australia-Durban, and -German steamer Durban-Saadani, and so on, up-country. -If I get 'em here by November I can give em three -months' trial before I set out for home.... </span><em class="italics">Must</em><span> -take a holiday next year and bring my wife out -afterwards. Don't like to leave this business without a -Britisher in it to watch my interests, don't you know, -and advise me how things are going while I am away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So they arranged the matter between them. Then -Mrs. Stott said: "I've a funny proposition to make. -A week ago I received a letter from Ann Jamblin that -was ... at Hangodi.... Ann Anderson she is now. -She saw Lucy there five weeks ago and was much -touched at her calling on them. Says she took a -special fancy to your dear, sweet, pretty children. Her -own little girl is very ailing. Well, now she goes on -to say old Mrs. Doland, who was a great supporter of -their Mission, has died and only left the East African -Mission £5,000. For this and other reasons the -Mission thinks of giving up Hangodi, as it is quite an -isolated station now, and all their others are in the British -Sphere.... Well, to put it quite plain, as you're -impatient to be gone—oh, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> know by the way you're -tapping your gaiters—how would it be if your -Concession or you or some one advanced our Mission £150 -for out-of-pocket expenses—so as to move quickly, -don't you know? And we sent word to Ann and her -husband to join us as soon as they had definite -authority to evacuate Hangodi. The German Government, I -believe, are going to buy the station. If we got Ann -and her husband up here the couple of them would -strengthen our hands mightily and then we could give -some of that worldly instruction you're so anxious -about. Or make it up in some way of help. -Strengthen the British element here. For although I -don't hold with your views about Providence one little -bit, and believe the World was made in six days and -am surprised every now and again that you aren't -struck down for your audacity, not to say blasphemy, -yet something tells me you and we are really working -for the same Divine ends...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger said the matter should certainly have his -attention. (Before he left for England the -following Spring Ann and Eb were members of the Stott -Mission, and the Stotts were able to open another -station and school in the Iraku country.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The months flew by through autumn, winter and -spring. Roger established a stud farm in the Happy -Valley where he could locate a captured dozen of zebra -and interbreed with Maska donkeys ... perhaps a -manageable, large-bodied zebra-mule might solve some -of their transport difficulties in the regions of the tse-tse -fly. He introduced shorthorn cattle from South -Africa to mingle with the native oxen and improve the -milk supply. He imported from Natal six Basuto -ponies, two stallions and four mares. He ordered -three safety bicycles—the great new invention or -combination of inventions. He and his German engineers, -reinforced by a clever Swiss sent out by the German -directorate, gave special consideration to the -waterfalls of Iraku, to harness them to turbines and -produce electric light. This power would feed electric -dynamos when the progress of the railway construction -enabled such heavy things to reach the Happy Valley. -They laid out great coffee plantations and experimented -in tea and quinine. It was hoped the natives might -take up all these cultures in time, on their own account, -as they had done that of cacao on the Gold Coast and -in the German Cameroons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The day for his departure in the early spring came -ever nearer and nearer. The two Australians arrived, -went down with fever, recovered and eventually proved -the right stuff, especially young Philip Ewart. -Mrs. Stott said she would see he did not get into mischief -while the Director was absent in England. She would -also give an eye to the Brenthams' house and the -doings of Andrade and Halima as caretakers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was therefore little cause for anxiety on -Roger's part as he made his preparations for a -six-months' absence, save the rumoured doings of a -certain Stolzenberg, a mysterious German hunter who, -coming from the British Sphere, had established himself -near the north-west escarpment of Lake Manyara, -apparently on the border of the Happy Valley -Concession (Glücklichesthals Konzession).</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="trouble-with-stolzenberg"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">TROUBLE WITH STOLZENBERG</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In those days—to parody a line of Holy Writ—it -might be said, "To every man, a crater or two"; -if you were referring to the wilderness which lay -between Kilimanjaro and the southern Rift Valleys, and -to the strange adventurers who in the 'nineties ranged -up and down the East African interior between Baringo -on the north and the Happy Valley on the south, over -a region of elevated steppe land, isolated mountains of -immense height, and extinct volcanoes. Some of these -lawless men were accumulating considerable wealth in -ivory, sheep and cattle. They wanted fortresses in -which to live and store their plunder, or the spoil of -their chase, the elephant tusks, the rhino horns, the -lion and leopard skins, the black and white mantles of -the long-haired colobus monkeys, the ostrich plumes; -even the roughly-cured skins of the rosy flamingoes -which were becoming an article of great demand in the -plumage trade. For this purpose the large and small -craters of presumably extinct volcanoes were ready to -hand; as though Nature had anticipated their wants. -Most of these were surrounded on the inside by the -nearly continuous, circular wall of the crater, only -broken down at one point where the lava or nowadays -a stream of water (the overflow of a little crater lake) -issued from the crater floor. Here with piled stones it -was easy to restrict the gap and hold the entrance -against any savage enemy without artillery. These -defences were, of course, prepared against the Masai -and not with any idea of defying a White Government, -whose advent at that time seemed very problematical: -at any rate a White Government that would interfere -to protect the natives, to obstruct elephant killing, or -regulate the movements of cattle between a disease-infected -area and one that still possessed uninfected -flocks and herds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was to one of these craters—very red in -colour—that Roger Brentham rode up at the end of March, -1897, after three days' difficult journey from the south. -He halted his little </span><em class="italics">safari</em><span> of armed porters and his -four Somali gun-men on a level tableland in front of -the gap in the crater walls; a gap cleverly closed by a -huge door of yew planks and a bridge of yew trunks -thrown over the issuing brook, with stones piled on top -to a height of twenty feet. There were obvious -indications that the walls and woodwork were loopholed for -gun-fire. He called several times loudly in Swahili -and German to arouse an answer and rapped on the -cumbrous door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently a smaller door within the great one opened -and there emerged a sullen-looking negro giant, -probably a Makua from the south. [Such offer themselves -for service in Unguja.] "Unatakáje?" he asked in -Swahili. "I want to see your Bwana—I do not know -his 'native' name," said Brentham, "but just take this -'karata' to him and he will read my name; and say I -wish to see him. Meantime I will make a camp here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Makua doorkeeper or watchman returned -within, and possibly an hour passed before anything -further happened, during which Brentham had his tent -erected, and arranged for his men—they were travelling -very light—to make their sleeping-places around it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The small door was again reopened and there stepped -out a remarkable-looking man of over six feet, with -enormous recurved moustaches, a sombrero hat, jackboots -and a general swashbuckling air and a visible -revolver in the broad belt that held up his breeches. He -walked slowly towards Roger who advanced to meet him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you come to see me?" he asked in English.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did," said Roger; "that is, if your name is -Stolzenberg?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is ... for to-day—at any rate. Well: here -I am. You come to tell me 'it is Easter Sunday, and -Christ Is Risen,' like the Russians do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, is it Easter Sunday? Dear me! I had no -idea. If so, I might have chosen another time. Still, -as I </span><em class="italics">am</em><span> here and as you </span><em class="italics">are</em><span> here—and I fancy you are -often absent?—I should be obliged if we could have -a talk, come to an understanding, don't you know?" (There -was no answering friendliness in the fierce face -that looked into his, the face of a perfectly ruthless -man, eyes with bloodshot whites, wide mouth with pale -flaccid lips, showing strong tobacco-stained teeth, -prominent cheek bones, lowering brows, a massive jaw, and -here and there an old duelling scar.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An unnerstanding?" he said sneeringly. "What -about? </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> unnerstand you. I know who you are, now -I see your card. You are Captain Brentham. Once -you were Consul ... at ... Unguja. Then you -run away with missionary's wife—and—you are -... no more Consul. You do somesing shocking, -</span><em class="italics">nicht wahr</em><span>? It is so easy to shock your Gover'ment—and -now von Wissmann—that Morphinsäufer—he -gif you a Concession. An' I suppose you come now -to say I trespass on your Concession? Very well then, -I </span><em class="italics">do</em><span>, an' I don' care a damn for you or for any -Gover'ment you like to name. I make this my home six, -seven years ago and no one come to turn me out now, -unless they fight me first.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't come to turn you out," said Roger. -Stolzenberg laughs noisily and contemptuously.... -"It's not my business to do so. I have come with a -very small following to make your acquaintance, to -find out for myself what you were like and to see -whether it was possible to deal with you..." (As -he is talking he sees that through the open doorway of -the stronghold there are issuing a large number of -armed black men, dressed like the coast people—perhaps -a hundred), "to deal with you as one white man -might deal with another. But before I can even put -our case—our Concession's case—before you, you -commence by insulting me and making a lying -statement about my wife—and you probably now intend -threatening me by an attack with your Askari[#]—who -I see are gathering up behind you."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] Soldiers.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"These men," said Stolzenberg, glancing round at -them and shouting an order to them to be seated, "are -only there to make sure. You Britishers are always -up to some trick. I thought just to show you I stand -no nonsense. As to what I say ... a-bout Meeses -... Brentham, I ... only ... say ... what your -... own country-men say on coast. But let that pass. -What is this unnerstanding you propose to me—a -Partnership? Well, I am open to a bargain. What is -it to be? What terms do you offer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't come here to discuss any such thing. I -came to say this. As you ask the question, this -extraordinary place—I suppose it is the crater of a -volcano?—does not lie within our limits. You are not -trespassing on our property. But for the past nine -months or so we have had many complaints about you -or about your men. You raid the natives, you take -the Masai cattle and apparently drive them into this -stronghold. You even kidnap the Iraku women...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> kidnap.... They come here of their -own pleasure ... they are free to go if they like. -But they like my men much better than their own -husbands who cannot gif them closs or beads...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And finally," continued Roger, almost choking with -the effort to speak in a level voice and not send a fist -smashing into the large face that bends over his so -threateningly, "finally, you drove away by force two -of our prospecting parties at the north end of the -Lake and..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Those men," shouted Stolzenberg ... "they -... they come just to spy out my defences ... but -look here. You and I are big fools—p'raps I am -bigger fool than you.... I lose my temper first, I say -things a-bout a la-dy which perhaps are not true.... -I apologize.... Nutting they say on the coast is -true! Look at the lies they tell about me!" (a -boisterous laugh). "They say at Mombasa I am biggest -blaggard unhung. That is—what you say? ex-agger-a-ted? -And look at the lies Bri-tish missionaries tell -about my friend, Doctor Peters. It is that make me -so angry just now. German Gover'ment belief these -lies and send my good friend away. And then there -is a fine Englishman I know, a nobleman in your -country, a Sir—Sir Wil-low-by Pat-terne. You would -hardly belief the things they say a-bout him—always -be-hind his back...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you know Willowby Patterne," said Roger -(greatly interested).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haf seen him once or twice," replied Stolzenberg, -becoming suspicious. "But you do not come here, I -sup-pose, to talk about him? You come to make my -acquaintance. Well: you haf made it. Now you leaf -me alone and I will leaf you alone. I ... what you -say? I 'will not return your call'? My quarrel with -the Masai is not </span><em class="italics">your</em><span> business. I haf—what do we -say? I haf 'vendetta' against the Masai. When I -first come out to East Africa on my own business I fit -out a </span><em class="italics">safari</em><span> and travel to Kenya to buy ivory. I do no -harm to Masai, but they attack my camp, they kill a -young German man with me, my </span><em class="italics">very great</em><span> friend; -they kill most of my men—and see! They try to -kill me" (pulls up shirt and shows long scar over ribs -on left side), "and they kill my dogs. Only when they -see Kikuyu coming down in large war party do they -leaf off stabbing and go away with most of my trade -goods. The Kikuyu carry me up to their village and -save my life—I haf always been good friend to -Kikuyu since.—You ask them! Well now, I get my -own back. Whenever I see Masai now, I shoot. I -put fear of death into them...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is an interesting bit of biography," said -Brentham, "but I thought those lawless days were -gone by. I haven't heard the Masai version of your -story. Perhaps they had some excuse. At any rate, -they were not the same clan as the Masai round here, -friends of mine for years; and you've no right to make -war on them. Outside our concession, that's not </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> -affair. Your Government——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not say </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> Gover'ment," roared Stolzenberg. -"It is not mine. I do not ask for it! I am my own -gover'ment. I was in these countries before ever came -any German or any British Gover'ment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well then, the Government of this region, the -Government that has got the most right to govern -... I say—No! you </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> hear me out before I go—what -you may do outside our concession is between you and -them. But if after this warning you interfere with -our people, the people inside this Concession I am -managing, and in which I'm a magistrate, you'll run -up against </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>, and I shall shoot you at sight like you -do the Masai...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right! Haf a drink before you go?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I won't," said Roger. And wheeling round -on his listening men, he shouted: "Pigeni kambi. -Maneno yamekwisha. Twende zetu." Then, so that -his leave-taking might lose none of its abruptness, he -strode to where his Maskat donkey was tethered, -released it, jumped into the saddle, and rode slowly away -till he was out of sight, below the space of level ground. -There he waited till his men had rejoined him with -their light loads. The first to arrive were the four -Somali gun-men. They had long since learnt to speak -Swahili and they said, laughing, in relief that the -palaver had ended without recourse to firearms: -"Ulimshinda na maneno, Bwana mkubwa, ulimshinda, yule -Mdachi. Walakini, ukiondoka, akasema watu wake. -'Simchuki, yule Mwingrezi. Mwanaume.'"[#]</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] "You conquered him with words, Great Master, you defeated -him, that German. But when you left he said to his people: 'I -don't hate him, that Englishman. He is a man.'"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Roger rode away musing from this encounter, or -rather rode and walked over an exceedingly rough -country with scarcely a native path or sign of -habitation, a country depopulated doubtless by former wars -and raids of tribe on tribe: for it was well watered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tall clumps of Euphorbias gave the red landscape -a sinister look, for their articulated branches -looked like a conjunction of gigantic scorpions, bodies -meeting together and stinging tails erected in the air; -the fleshy-leaved aloes of deep bottle-green sent up -blood-red stalks of blood-red tubular flowers; on the -higher ground there were many rust-red or -red-lead-coloured "red-hot pokers"—what the initiated call -Kniphofias. The country somehow suggested blood -and iron; for the old and faded Euphorbias might have -been cut out of rusty metal, and iron ore was so -obviously permeating the rocks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He mused on the violence to which Africa always -seemed a prey. The reign of law in East Africa in -both the British and German spheres seemed to be -preceded by the reign of the outlaws. He knew enough -as a traveller and an ex-official, and as a resident in the -lands bordering on the British sphere, to be aware that -just then the British hinterland was a prey to German -and British, Austrian, American, South African and -even Goanese-Indian buccaneers, who obeyed no laws -or injunctions of the feeble Chartered Company or of -the weak young Protectorate Government which followed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some of these outlaws had come to East Africa with -a voluble Austrian crank and two Russian anarchists -who tried to found an impossible Utopia in South -Galaland, the Colony of Freiheit—the main principle -of which was that the oppressed white people of -Central and Eastern Europe were to be free to do as they -liked here and take all they wanted, while the natives -of East Africa were to be their serfs. The natives of -that part of East Africa—the proud Galas—who did -not even know a </span><em class="italics">good</em><span> white man when they saw him, -or allow him to live—soon settled the hash of the -Freiheiters, many of whom (there were three hundred -in all) died of malarial fever. The remnant that -escaped across the Tana became a scourge of inner East -Africa; and a faint flavour of their unscrupulousness -still remains. At the time of Roger's musing ride back -from Stolzenberg's red Crater-fortress to his home at -Magara on the Iraku escarpment there were about a -dozen of these pioneers of civilization still remaining -in activity. A few had made moderate competencies -and had returned to Central Europe to abandon -Communism in favour of State and Church, and to make -respectable marriages with high-born damsels. The -greater devils, the altogether branded-with-the-brand-of-Cain -that remained would one by one either enter -some company's service, not too scrupulous as to -antecedents, or die bloody and terrible deaths. Meantime, -they shot enormous numbers of elephants, made -themselves chiefs of nomad tribes, started harems of twenty -or thirty bought or snatched damsels (who thought the -whole episode rather a lark), accumulated great herds -of cattle, sheep, goats and Masai donkeys. Later, as -things became more defined, frontiers more precise, -laws more clearly formulated and regulations—my -own for example—more vexatious, they turned -themselves into smugglers and professional lawbreakers. -They conveyed out of British into German territory -forbidden ivory of female elephants; they brought -from the German sphere cattle that might be affected -with some germ disease and were therefore forbidden -to enter British territory; they disposed of rhinoceros -horns that were in excess of the miserly allowance -granted to big-game slaughterers; they carried on a -brisk slave trade by enrolling hundreds of labourers -in German East Africa and conveying them hundred -of miles into British East Africa and disposing of -them at a premium to the many associations and -enterprises requiring the black man's strong arm and patient -labour; and they redressed the balance by raiding -unnoticed districts under the British flag and -transporting the inhabitants to German East Africa to be -enrolled as labourers under military discipline.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few of them were unmitigated scoundrels, two or -three had a maniac's blood-lust for killing beautiful -creatures of little use when killed; or delighted in -inflicting cruelties on the natives "to show their -power." Many a blameless Government or Company's official -proceeding up-country has been surprised at the hatred -which flamed out at his approach, he guiltless of any -unkindness or injustice. One or other of these masterless -men were the cause of the treacherous attack on -his caravan, or the loss of his life in an ambush which -had to be expensively avenged by a military expedition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet if there was the left wing of his Legion of the -Damned which drew up at the foot of the gallows, there -was the right wing, headed by Sir Willowby Patterne, -which remained in touch with good society and even -dined, coming and going, at the Administrator's table -or with Sir Bennet Molyneux at home. Nothing to -their actual discredit was proved against them. And -East Africa was five thousand miles from Mayfair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patterne, whose first shooting expedition of 1890-91 -had resulted in quite a nice little profit from the ivory -it obtained, took up definitely an East African career. -He had at first tried to get himself commissioned for -the interior of the Chartered Company's territory. -But its directors were well-intentioned, shrewd men -and his home reputation barred the way. Yet he could -not very well—being a Baronet of far-reaching -connexions—be denied access to this loosely governed -region, whither he came every two or three years. -After his first journey and the court cases it aroused at -Unguja, he was not such a fool as to continue his -savage treatment of his carriers and servants or he would -soon have been unable to recruit a caravan. On the -contrary he paid well and gave a liberal food -allowance, and within limits his enforcement of a rather -Prussian discipline exacted the respect of the Negro, -who appreciates arbitrary power if it is not -accompanied by meanness in money matters. His reckless -slaughter of game made him even popular with his -expeditions because it gave the men a surfeit of meat, -and trophies to turn into amulets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patterne at last became tolerated as an inevitable -concomitant of the march of civilization, and acquired -citizenship in British East Africa by staking out a -vague "concession" near the north-west corner of the -Kilimanjaro slopes on the edge of the German frontier. -It was in this way and in this neighbourhood that -he got to know Adolf Stolzenberg, whom he helped in -his raids against the Masai; less by direct participation -than by furnishing him with arms and ammunition -and by disposing of his captured cattle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you know about this curious personage, -Stolzenberg?" asked Roger of his two friends, -Hildebrandt and Wiese, when he had returned to Magara -from his visit to the Red Crater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only what we hear people say," replied Hildebrandt. -"Some say he is just a Sous African German -who do some bad sing in Sous Africa and com up here -ten, twelf year ago to join the Denhardts. Ozzers -say he com from Germany long before, wiz Dr. Fischer, -and zat he was natural son of our old Emperor -Wilhelm One. First, Emperor put him in army, and -several times pay his debts, and zen when he kill -anozzer officer in duel he pack him off to Africa and -say, 'Never let me see your face again.' But p'raps -zat is only story invented by ze man himself. -Somtimes I sink our Government use him in som way. I -dare say your Government do ze same by zis ozzer man -you hate so, Vill-o-bee Patterne. What a fonny name! -Your English names are somtimes more fonny zan ours!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The German Commandant, consulted by Roger (who -in April, 1897, was on his way to the coast after having -made everything safe behind him), was rather -noncommittal about Stolzenberg. The conversation was -in German, punctuated with phrases of Swahili on the -part of the Commandant, who was proud of having -acquired a smattering of this African tongue. He was -rather non-committal about the denizen of the Red -Crater. He was a "derben Kerl" ... "Simba -yule, kabisa," the terror of the Masai. He kept the -Masai occupied in that quarter while the Germans -tackled the Wa-hehe on the south. He must be given -some latitude ... the Commandant would see he did -not impinge on the Concession ... perhaps he might -be persuaded to take command of a large irregular -force against the Wa-hehe....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'</span><em class="italics">Divide et impera</em><span>,' sehen Sie? Em glas -Rheinwein, nicht so? Und Soda? Ein lang-trinken in der -Englische phrase...."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It seemed incongruous that this scene—the rather -stiff German major, in strict, white, military uniform -and an encumbering sword, a black sentry, not far -away, walking with a plap, plap, plap of his bare feet -up and down the prescribed number of paces; a plainly -furnished, white-washed room in a square fort with -pretentious crenellations along its high white walls; the -oleograph portrait of Kaiser Wilhelm II; the camp -table, the Rhine wine in long-necked bottles, the -enamelled iron tumblers and the soda siphons; and the click -of a typewriter in the next apartment—should come -up before his mental vision as he sat with Lucy and -Maud and the Schräder partners on a balcony in the -Strand, waiting for Queen Victoria to pass to her -Jubilee thanksgiving at St. Paul's! Why should he think -of Adolf Stolzenberg then?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was but part of the African nightmare which he -would fain roll up and forget. A few weeks of -England had put Africa's nose out of joint. To work for -the redemption of a tiny portion of German Africa -when such gigantic developments of British Africa -were dawning in the imagination of far-seeing men, or -when an evolution still more important was taking -place in his own land, in the Far East, in America....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What was it that brought back the Red Crater to his -mind, the sinister face and powerful figure of -Stolzenberg; or the German Commandant in the fort at -Kondoa? Whose was the thin, aquiline, insolent face with -its riotous smile that held his gaze across the narrow -Strand, the face of a tall man in ultra-fashionable cut -of clothes, standing up amid a bower of Gaiety girls -with four or five extra-smart young City men—stock-brokers, -no doubt, Company promoters, or the solicitors -of Company promoters—? It was Willowby Patterne -he had been staring at for several minutes; and Sir -Willowby was flicking a greeting to him with the -manicured hand which had drawn the trigger on so many -lovely beasts, or had lifted the Kiboko with such a -cunning twist to lay its lash on the naked skin of some -defaulting native porter....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had to concentrate his thoughts before he replied -to the greeting with a grave bow—had to remember -that he had once played semi-host to this man at a -Scotch shooting lodge; hated him mostly on hearsay -unproved evidence, and chiefly on apprehension as to -future maleficence, rather than on positive wrongs to -himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he gave his consideration once more to the -passing pageant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thrum ... thrum ... thrum ... thrum ... in -between the bursts of military music went the steady -marching of the Imperial troops. There was the pick -of the regiments of the British line; there were samples -of Indian infantry—bearded Sikhs, grinning Gurkhas, -handsome Panjabis—Surely that was young Pearsall-Smith -at the head of one of these detachments? He -had heard of his distinguishing himself in the -Nyasaland wars against the Arabs—and he winced to think -he had no part in this ceremonial, he could point of -late to no service to the Crown and Empire—was it -his fault? If he had gone to Norway or to South -America, could he have achieved anything that might -have brought him into the procession of to-day? -What splendid Indian cavalry. That Indian prince -leading them had once given him some tiger shooting -when he was a young A.D.C. to Sir Griffith Gaunt. -Ah! Here was Africa in the procession—Hausas -from Nigeria, Sudanese from Egypt; these bronzed, -well-seated, rather insolent-looking white men were -mounted police from the Cape, from Bechuanaland, -from Natal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These gaudy zouave uniforms and Christy minstrels' -faces were a contingent from the West Indian -regiments that had figured in so many West African wars. -And now came well-set-up Turkish police from Cyprus, -well-drilled Chinese police from Hong Kong; even -solemn-looking Dyaks from Borneo, who were believed -to have given up head-hunting in favour of -constabulary work at the Bornean ports.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And carriages containing permanent officials—he -thought he recognized Sir Bennet Molyneux in one, -possibly attached to the person of some foreign prince, -some German or Russian Grand Duke. And Ministers -of State saluted by the happy crowd with good-humoured -cheers and a few serio-comic groans. That -one who aroused such an outburst of cheering was the -great Choselwhit, Josiah Choselwhit, Secretary of State -for the Colonies, in Windsor uniform with the customary -eyeglass. His hosts, the Schräders, joined lustily -in the hurrahs, as did the City men opposite; Choselwhit -was supposed to have brought grist to the City -mills and to be the mainstay of the British Empire in -which Germans as well as British made such millions -of money....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And ... and ... and ... At last, after many -preliminary princes and princesses, Queen Victoria -herself; a little figure swathed in much black clothing -but with filmy white around the rosy face and -yellow-white hair.... She progressed very slowly—so it -seemed to Roger—past their windows. The Schräder -brothers positively brayed their international loyalty, -so that their voices were even heard by her above the -deafening clamour. She turned her somewhat haughty -profile and clear blue eyes towards their balcony with -its flamboyant draperies and symbols, as if she searched -for some face she knew to whom she might address a -smile of acknowledgment; but finding none, turned her -gaze to the Gaiety girls and the shouting young men -who had invited Patterne as their guest. To these -pretty actresses, showing real emotion, she did address -a royal smile, which caused one of them to give way -to real tears. Then Roger found himself gazing at -the back of her bonnet with its white ostrich plume, -illogically disappointed that there had been no smile -for him, he who would have served her so gladly had -her ministers let him.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Queen-ant of an unusually large ant-hill on this -little ball of rock and water having gone on her way to -thank the Master Spirit of the Universe for a few -additional years of life and power to do good—-the while -no doubt that Master Spirit, despite Its Unlimited -Intelligence, was vexed and preoccupied at the way things -were going in the constellation of Orion—a million -times larger than the whole solar system; or at the -accelerated currents of star-dust in the Milky Way, or -the slow progress towards forming a cluster of sixty -giant worlds made by the Nebula of Andromeda: the -Schräder partners were dispensing very elegant -hospitality in the room behind the two windows they had -taken at an Illustrated Newspaper Office in the Strand. -They were essentially practical men, being German, -with a Jewish quarter-strain and a French education. -They could have entertained Roger and his wife and -sister; a great Singer—who could not "place" -Roger and therefore was cold to him; a great Actress -rather past her prime; a great Essayist whose mental -scope was limited by Oxford and the Athenæum; and -various other guests of intellectuality and distinction: -they could have entertained their friends and acquaintance -in the Piccadilly house of one of them and the -Grosvenor Gardens house of another; or they could -have thrown open their splendid City offices for the -same purpose; but the view of the whole procession -and especially of the Queen would not have been so -near, so concentrated, as from windows on the first -floor of the Strand at its narrowest. So in fixing up -their plans two months beforehand it was here they -were playing the lavish host.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The collation was of the most exquisite; the wines -of the finest quality imparting the most insidious -intoxication, so that you thought you were only being -your natural self, though you put your elbows on the -table and wondered that you had never hitherto been -ranked as a great wit. The celebrated singer began -to forget her secret grievance that she was not being -entertained by Royalty and had not ridden in one of -those carriages. She consoled herself by the assurance -she would be at the Naval Review and the Garden -Party and probably most of her fellow-guests would -not. And then after all, if you did stoop to City -entertainers, you could not do much better than the -Schräders, unless it were the Rothschilds. Baron -Schräder was the head of the family, and he had been -made a Baron by Napoleon III, which was much more -chic than a German title given by a petty German -court. The Schräders for several generations had -been dilettanti, outside business; musicians of a -certain talent; shrewd judges of cinque-cento art; abstruse -ornithologists; members of the Zoological Society's -Council; of a Jockey Club here and of a Cercle -d'Escrime there. But to sustain this life of many -facets they required unlimited money; and Roger -Brentham just now was promising to become one of -their most remarkable money-spinners. Mr. Eugene -Schräder was therefore, after one or two elegant -fillings and sippings over Royal names, proposing ever so -informally his good health, and that of his charming -and devoted wife, and ... and ... he stammered -a little over the characterization of Maud, who was -the least genial member of the party and had shown -herself a little blunt with the actress past her prime, -who was now descending to whispered confidences of -marital ill-treatment. "But our friend, Captain -Brentham ... may I without indiscretion say he -should, if he had all that was due to him, have been in -the procession to-day as an actor rather than a -spectator? Though our party would have lost one of its -most interesting guests...." (The Essayist, whose -nose has gone very red with the champagne and the -Château Yquem, here looks at Roger for the first time -with focussed eyes: is it possible that he could have -done anything worth notice, outside Oxford and the -Athenæum?) "Our friend, Captain Brentham, first -led the way of Imperial expansion in East Africa; he is -now endeavouring to show us Germans how the wealth -of our East African possessions should be developed -and brought into the world's markets. Germany was -not too proud to enlist the services of any man—or -woman" (he bowed to the Actress and Singer) of -ability. To be a German was in some ways to be a -world-citizen. If they searched the glorious records -of the British Empire they would find them studded -with German names.... The British Empire of -to-day stood grandly open to German enterprise; they -would find in return that the German Empire overseas -was ready to afford every opportunity to British -colonizing and administrative genius. So there would -be in German circles no grudging to Captain Brentham -of a full meed of praise—from his firm, at any -rate—for the truly remarkable discoveries he had made....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mustn't forget the credit due to Hildebrandt -and Wiese and several other fellows," interpolated -Brentham, desirous of doing the right thing—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just so—of your German colleagues: that is as it -should be. But that brings me to the climax I was -leading up to, rather wordily I fear. Dear friends -(his voice a little tremulous with honest emotion) let -us drink a final toast: </span><em class="italics">To Anglo-German -Co-operation</em><span>; to the great Alliance of our two Nations founded -on affinity of race and language, a common love of -truth, a common devotion to Science, and I might add -almost—a common dynasty" ... (rest lost in clapping).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The toast, however, was drunk somewhat sparingly -and absent-mindedly. The Singer, Madame Violante -(her married name was Violet Mackintosh), felt -dangerously near hiccups (it was the plovers' eggs, she -told herself) and she might have to sing to-night! -How could she have been so mad? The Actress felt -she had said rather too much about her husband to a -total stranger, a middle-aged woman who now looked -a mere parson's wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Essayist had grown rather sulky because his -hosts in this wholly unnecessary speechifying had made -no reference to his own contribution to Anglo-German -friendship, his </span><em class="italics">Place of Heine among Modern Poets</em><span> -and his </span><em class="italics">Synthesis of Lessing's Dramas</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the party broke up, and the kindly Schräders -suggested, as any form of conveyance was totally -unprocurable, they should have the hardihood (the -gentlemen protecting the ladies) to walk back through the -common People—whom the Police had described as -uncommon good-natured and just a bit merry—to the -Green Park and witness the dear Queen's return to -Buckingham Palace.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But when the Jubilee fiss-fass-fuss had abated and -before they went to Homburg and Aix, the partners -sent for Roger and spoke to him with business-like -generosity. He and his staff had made discoveries of -value that might be almost called astounding. The -capital of the Company would possibly be increased -ten-fold—large subscriptions in Germany—exciting -immense interest among the best people on this side. -His original syndicate shares had become equivalent to -50,000 shares in the enlarged Company, and as they -stood at a pound, why he would be worth, if he realized, -£50,000. But, of course, he would not do such a thing -till promises had been turned into performances—Meantime, -they were prepared to raise his salary to -£3,000 a year—he would probably have to entertain -German officials considerably—and conclude an -agreement for ten years.... "But if I have to -entertain largely?" he queried, not above making as good -a bargain as possible.... "My dear Captain -Brentham! Don't let </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> stand between us.... There -shall be an entertainment allowance of five hundred a -year. And we hope that that will induce you to take -your charming lady back with you, and your sister, -Miss Brentham. I assure you the encomiums passed -on those ladies by our German friends out there have -contributed not a little to...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All this is very kind of you. But I don't want to -think I alone am being rewarded for discoveries which -in some cases were entirely due to...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will find when you go back your German -colleagues have not been forgotten in the all-round -increase of salaries.... And now; go and take a </span><em class="italics">good</em><span> -holiday and get well braced up before your return in -the autumn...."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Roger took them at their word. He and Lucy, -after revelling in the joys of parenthood in Berkshire, -went off to spend a month with Sibyl at Glen Sporran. -Lucy had long since grown used to Sibyl, so the -prospect of the visit caused her no perturbation. She -followed Maud's advice as to suitability of outfit and the -number of evening frocks and tea-gowns. She was -the only member of the party who did not bicycle or -play bridge. Sibyl boasted of doing sixty miles a day -without turning a hair; but the Rev. Stacy Bream -nearly killed himself trying to emulate her feats of -coasting downhill and pedalling uphill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Honble. Vicky Masham was there as of yore—a -little longer in the tooth (she had got used to Sibyl's -nickname by this time, and had forgiven it as Sibyl -had helped her to pay her bridge debts)—. She hurt -her ankle badly in a bicycle accident and had to lie up. -Lucy, the only one at home, sat with her, did fancy -work and burbled gently about her African experiences. -The Honble. Victoria grew quite interested, regretted -that Mrs. Brentham, born as she had been born, -without the purple, and her husband not having pursued a -British career, could not be brought to the dear Queen's -notice.... The Queen took the </span><em class="italics">greatest interest</em><span> in -Africa....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy, of course, after a few lessons abandoned any -attempt to play bridge (people in 1897 debated -whether bicycling, bridge, the Bible, or herbaceous -borders had brought the greatest happiness to Britain: -we, in after life, see it was the bicycle). She was -scared by the subterranean forces it aroused and lit up -in the angry eyes around her, the fortunes that were -involved in the plunge of No Trumps, the awful -penalties attendant on a revoke, the fate that hung on a -finesse. So she wisely declined to play and talked—or -rather listened—to the one who cut out; or if -several tables were made up, she dispensed drinks and -sweets and a sandwich supper. The Rev. Stacy -Bream, vaguely nettled by her rival Christianity, -glanced at her once, remembered years ago she had -been Sibyl's butt, and inquired of Sibyl "who her -people were, what her father was?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One of the best farmers in Berkshire," said Sibyl. -"Mine is—or was—for I had to buy him up—one -of the worst.... What was </span><em class="italics">your</em><span> father, by the bye? -It never occurred to me to ask you before...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Rev. Stacy's father had really been a very -pushing Agent for a firm of Decorators and Wall-paper -designers: so he replied with a sigh: "A great, </span><em class="italics">great</em><span> -traveller, dear lady; a man who loved Colour and -Design better than his immortal soul, I fear.... It's to -you to cut...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Sibyl had not confined her Highland house-party -to these worn-out fribbles. Bream had his uses. -He would be there to assoil a guest who might get shot -in the shooting, and so perhaps save the unpleasantness -of an inquest; and his stories of people on the -fringe of Society were the equivalent and the -accompaniment in midnight chat—just before you took -your bedroom candle—of pâté-de-foie sandwiches and -cherry brandy. Vicky Masham kept you right with -Queen Victoria; Lucy was a reminder to her not to -make a fool of herself with Roger ... perhaps also -there was a little gratitude in her hard nature for the -good a year of Lucy's society had wrought in her little -son's health and disposition. But she wanted—more -than ever at thirty-six—to be a political woman, to -make a difference in the world, hand her name down -in history, change or shape history in fact. It had -occurred to her, as it did to fifty other mature, -handsome, well-placed women of ambition, to marry Cecil -Rhodes; but the Jacobzoon Raid and still more the -eager rivalry of other ladies, perfectly shameless in -their frontal attacks on the Colossus, soon thwarted -any such idea ... reduced it indeed, to such a -ridiculous impossibility that it was only confided to her -locked diary. She had fortunately withdrawn her -half-promise from Sir Elijah Tooley at the very first -hint that there was a crack in his reservoir of wealth. -Otherwise—with a couple of millions of his money -... and he could have had his own suite of apartments, -and she would have stopped him waxing his -moustaches ... she might have over-turned her -world.... Then there was Count Balanoff, the -Russian Ambassador, a widower....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know," she said to Roger in one of her many -smoking-room tête-à-tête confidences—"he is -'richissime,' and really rather decent, though he does dye his -hair.... Gold mines in Siberia, turquoise mines in -the Caucasus.... He seemed quite to </span><em class="italics">want</em><span> to marry -me, at one time.... Vicky Masham thinks it was the -Queen who interposed. If he'd asked me and I'd -accepted I should have made myself in no time the most -talked-about woman in Europe. I'd have negotiated -an alliance with Russia—always an idea of mine—and -have paid the Kaiser out for his Kruger telegram—Why -is it, Roger, there isn't a </span><em class="italics">rush</em><span> to marry me? -I've ten thousand a year for life; I'm only thirty-six, -which nowadays is equivalent to twenty-six; I've a -splendid constitution, my hair's my own and so are my -teeth, my figure is perfect.... I might be an artist's -model for the 'tout ensemble.' ... And yet ... (a -pause for smoking).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it isn't as though the re-marriage of titled -women was 'mal vu' at Court any longer.... -There's Lady Landolphia Birchall. She's going to be -married again in the autumn; this time to a 'booky'—for -he really is nothing more, though he takes bets -with the Prince. And she's turned fifty. But the -Queen doesn't seem to mind...."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But to return to the theme from which this digression -started. Sibyl had asked four great Imperialists -down to Glen Sporran to make Roger's acquaintance: -the Honble. Darcy Freebooter, Percy Bracket—Editor -of the </span><em class="italics">Sentinel</em><span>—the Right Honble. J. Applebody -Bland, and Albert Greystock, grandson of old Lord -Bewdly. She would have liked to have captured -Mr. Rudyard Kipling, but he had perversely gone to the -United States, a region which lay outside Sibyl's -calculations, since we could neither annex it nor protect it. -She had even tried to include the great Choselwhit in -the company, the mysterious idol before whom and -whose non-committal eyeglass so much imperialistic -incense was then burnt. But he had answered coldly, -in an undistinguished handwriting, that he regretted a -previous engagement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't mind admitting, it's </span><em class="italics">rather</em><span> a snub," she -said to her quite indifferent cousin, "and it </span><em class="italics">vexes</em><span> me -because he is the coming man. It is </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> we must look -to, to lead the Unionist, the Imperial Party; not those -effete Brinsleys with their antiquated love of Free -Trade and the Church of England.... I'm very -much 'in' just now with Laura Sawbridge ... you -know, that clever woman-writer and traveller. She -says she can turn Chocho </span><em class="italics">round her little finger</em><span>. It -was </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> who sent her out to ... (rest whispered). -Well, you see what </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> means? Chocho is lying low, -but he means to get even with old Kruger and paint the -Transvaal red...."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Whether anything much, except distrust and disgust, -resulted from bringing Roger Brentham within the -same four walls, into the same shooting parties, bridge -contests and bicycling excursions as these distinguished -Imperialists, it is hardly worth inquiring. Imperialism -is dead, and I, as an old Imperialist, am moribund, -and most of the people mentioned are no longer of this -world. Probably Roger thought Darcy Freebooter -what all collateral younger sons of his stock had been -for three centuries: it was described by his surname. -Percy Bracket, he defined mentally as quite ignorant -of the Empire he unceasingly boomed (not without a -practical purpose, for he expected most company -promoters to give him a block of paid-up shares or "let -him in on the ground floor "). The Rt. Honble. Applebody -Bland reminded Roger of Mr. Quale in </span><em class="italics">Bleak -House</em><span>, whose mission it was to be enthusiastic about -everybody else's mission ... and recalled to Lucy, -by the jets of saliva which accompanied his easily -provoked eloquence, her special African horror, the -Spitting Cobra. And Albert Greystock was too good for -this world. He believed any one who advocated -enlarging the British Empire was a pure-souled missionary -of civilization, incapable of a base greed for gain -or other interested motive. He also believed that once -a backward or savage country had been painted red -on the map there was nothing more to be done or said. -There it was: saved, happy, and gratefully contented.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These people all said in turn "it was </span><em class="italics">monstrous</em><span>"—a -man who could in six years accomplish such encouraging -results in a part of Africa unfortunately for the -time being under Germany </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> be brought back to -British Administration. </span><em class="italics">Choselwhit</em><span> must be seen, -</span><em class="italics">Wiltshire</em><span> button-holed, the </span><em class="italics">Rothschilds</em><span> nudged, and -</span><em class="italics">Rhodes</em><span> got round....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger, however, was not going to risk the substance -for the shadow or be disloyal in the slightest degree to -the generous Schräders. He would buckle-to, make -his pile, bank it; and </span><em class="italics">then</em><span>, perhaps, weigh in, scatter -the chaff and garner the grains of Imperialism. And -of one thing he was jolly well sure—thinking back on -his faithful Somalis, his cheery Wanyamwezi, on the -well-mannered, manly Masai, the graceful Iraku, and -the obedient Wambugwe: he would see that the Black -men and Brown men reaped full advantage for the -White man's intrusion into their domain. They -should receive compensation for disturbance and be -brought into partnership, not only of labour and effort, -but of profit.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-boer-war"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE BOER WAR</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics">From Lady Silchester to her cousin, Captain Roger Brentham.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Stellenbosch,</span></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Cape Colony,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">March</em><span> 25, 1900.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAR ROGER—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Your letter from Magara of last December -reached me in London just as I was leaving with -Landolphia Birchall (she kept her former name when -she married the Booky ... and </span><em class="italics">quite right, too</em><span>—you -</span><em class="italics">never</em><span> know how a second or third marriage is going -to turn out, and at any moment may want your old -name back). We came out here to see something of -the war at close quarters and to set up a hospital and a -convalescent home for the sick and wounded officers -and men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I cannot tell you how </span><em class="italics">proud</em><span> and </span><em class="italics">pleased</em><span> I was you -had </span><em class="italics">done the right thing</em><span>. People—especially that -horror, Willowby Patterne ... my dear, he is going -</span><em class="italics">bald as an egg</em><span>, with a </span><em class="italics">terribly</em><span> pink neck, all due to -some mistake in a hair-restorer, he says, but I say it is -a vicious life—people were saying odious things about -you the last year or two for developing German East -Africa instead of one of our own colonies. But I -knew—and always said—your heart was in the right -place and that </span><em class="italics">once</em><span> you saw old England was in a -tight place you would come to her assistance. There -is nothing like one's own country, after all, is -there?—"</span><em class="italics">My</em><span> country, right or wrong!"—one of the few -ex-cabinet ministers who is running straight said last -December at a meeting I got up at Reading. Some rude -man in the audience called out, "But why don't you set -it </span><em class="italics">right</em><span>? </span><em class="italics">Then</em><span> we should know where we are." But -you must expect such retorts from people who know -nothing of foreign policy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I wonder how you got away? Lucy and Maud, I -suppose, you have left behind. The Kaiser seems -rather friendly to us, they all say, and is going to be -pacified with Samoa and more pieces of West Africa. -So I suppose your concession will be all right, whilst -you are away, and the Germans won't do anything -unkind to poor Lucy and Maud. Or have they -returned to England? It is France who is showing her -teeth, not Germany! Chocho has very rightly told her -"to mend her manners." She is a </span><em class="italics">pig</em><span> ... she can't -forgive our taking Egypt and turning back Marchand -at Fashoda.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even Spain has seized the opportunity to get her -own back. It seems Lord Wiltshire called her a -decaying nation during the war with the United States, -and she has been saying through her press after each -British defeat: "Who's the decaying nation </span><em class="italics">now</em><span>?" I -must say she had some cause! Never were we more -bitterly disappointed in our Generals—before Lord -Roberts came out: They started off—some of the -dear old trots, with Crimean whiskers, if you'll -believe me—as pleased as Punch; and their silly young -A.D.C.'s got the porters at Waterloo station to stick -labels on their luggage "To Pretoria," "To -Bloomfontain" (Is that how it's spelt?). And, of course, -the only result of this boastfulness was that as soon as -the old footlers got out there they fell into ambushes -and lost their way and their men, and were deceived -by guides, and the soldiers quite lost heart and got -taken prisoners.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>England in December! I shall </span><em class="italics">never</em><span> forget it! I -couldn't sleep for </span><em class="italics">nights</em><span> and </span><em class="italics">nights</em><span>, and Vicky Masham -told me the Queen's health received such a shock that -she will never be quite the same again....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course, now we can breathe once more. As you -are on the spot and I dare say in the thick of it all, I -need not tell you how things have gone since Bobs and -K. of K. came out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well, of course, with all this going on in South -Africa you couldn't expect any loyal Englishwoman -who wasn't positively tied down by home duties to -remain at home. So I sent Clithy to Eton—he's -nearly thirteen now—and kept on his governess to -mother him when he comes from school, and also -confided him to the general care of Maurice, whom he -likes. By the bye, I've pensioned off old Flower now, -or at least got rid of him with a premium, and Maurice -is full Agent, and I've advised Maurice to take on as an -assistant Harden, the County cricketer, your wife's -brother-in-law! Well. Having done all this and -girded up my loins, so to speak, I made interest with -old General de Gobyns at the War Office—such an old -darling—he served with Wellington, I believe—and -came out here with Landolphia Birchall, to supervise -hospitals and give a general eye to the sick and -wounded, read to them, write letters home for them, -change their bandages, if it isn't too complicated—and -so on. It was partly the thought that you were out -here that decided me to come. Don't forget if you are -wounded or ill to let me know and I will try to come to -you or get you put into one of my hospitals. That -</span><em class="italics">would</em><span> be jolly!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Landolphia is a funny old party! She must be -quite fifty. She was so ill crossing the Bay of Biscay. -Owing to the disgraceful amount of room the staff -officers took up on the steamer she and I were jammed -together into one cabin. Where our maids were put, -</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> don't know—in the stoke-hole I think. But we -scarcely saw them all the voyage and when we landed -Sophie gave me notice at once, only she can't get a -passage home so she has had to let it stand over till I -choose to return. Of course, under the circumstances, -Landolphia could keep nothing back from me—she -was </span><em class="italics">so</em><span> sea-sick; as she said, that she felt herself naked, -face to face with her Maker. So everything had to be -explained—her secrets of make-up, her sachets of -peau d'espagne, her dress improvers and peculiar stays -and adjusted shoes. I suppose (though I laughed -inwardly till I </span><em class="italics">ached</em><span>, she looked so droll when she was -taken to pieces) I must have been good to her in her -dire affliction, for she's clung to me ever since, and says -we are sisters without a secret between us. After all, -with all these infirmities and "adjustments" she was -a plucky old thing ever to come out. Now she thinks -it an awful lark—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By the bye, she protests with tears in her eyes that -her third husband is </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> a booky, he's a </span><em class="italics">trainer</em><span>, which, -it appears, is a vastly superior calling. She also says -she oughtn't to be judged so harshly over her -marriages. The second husband, Captain Birchall, only -lived with her for three months and then broke his neck -in a point-to-point steeplechase. She lived twenty -years with Augustus Gellibrand, and she really only -married her present old man—Dawkins—because -she got into such a tangle over her racing debts and he -put them straight....</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Do let me know if and when this gigantic letter -reaches you!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Your devoted</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>SIBYL.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As will be seen later, this frank outpouring did not -come into Roger's hands for five or six months. -Fortunately Sibyl had also sent him several picture -postcards with photos of herself and Lady Landolphia -dressed in nurses' costume, or a kind of hybrid costume -between a nurse and a nun. These reached him at his -Agents' in Durban. So he wrote to her from that -place and was rather pleased to think she was in the -same sub-continent as himself. It diminished slightly -the acute form of home-sickness from which he -suffered after first landing in Natal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more he asked himself if he had done the right -thing in volunteering for the South African War. -His Agents at Durban, being German and Dutch, were -at most coldly polite and there seemed to be no rush on -the part of the authorities to enlist his services. In -order to have two trusty servants who would take care -of his baggage and perhaps follow him in -campaigning—they would make most admirable scouts—he -had brought with him to Durban two of his Somali -gun-carriers. After landing with them at Durban and -reporting himself to the military head-quarters as a -former captain in the Indian Army, he had the -deuce-and-all of a bother to get food and lodging for these -wretched Somalis, who were at once classed by we -ignorant Natalians as "just ordinary niggers" -... though why "just ordinary niggers" should be so -ill-treated, he could not understand. No hotel would -lodge or feed them except in a kind of pigsty with -hog-wash for food, where the kitchen Kafirs abode. -They might not go into a shop and buy food, or rather -they might go in but no one would serve them. After -dark they must have a "pass." They very narrowly -escaped jail and the whip and disappearance for -ever from his ken by defending themselves with all -a Muslim's pride when cuffed and pushed and -flouted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger very nearly—for that reason and for the -mosquito-preserves of Durban then called -"hotels"—turned tail and re-embarked for German East Africa; -but fortunately there came along a Colonel who had -not served under Wellington or even seen the Crimea, -but was no older than Roger—42—and had known -him in London.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're just the type of man we want, with your -knowledge of the bush and of niggers...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, don't call them that; it—it—riles me after -the years I have worked with them...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Negroes, the bonny Bantu, the blameless -Ethiopians, if you will.... And you ought to be a -master-hand at bush-fighting. We're going to get up -a sort of mounted infantry, don't you know. You're -just the man to be given a small command. You need -not tell me you can't ride, can't get every ounce out of -your mount, 'cos I know better; or that you can't -manage horses so that those entrusted to your men don't -die in three weeks. Didn't you once tell me you bred -Basuto ponies in G.E.A.? Well, I'm here, there, and -elsewhere, buying Basuto ponies. Just stay here and -get your uniform and equipment—here, give this card -to our Supply department—and then report to -General Buller. I'm writing him fully about you.... -Oh yes.... And as to your nigs. I mean your two -high-bred Fuzzie-wuzzies. Of course, we don't -employ Negro soldiers ... 'gainst the rules. But we -engage thousands as batmen, transport-riders, grooms, -and everything else. I'll fix it up somehow that you -take your two darkies with you. They seem to know -what I'm sayin'. What jolly teeth. They look hefty -men and a dam' sight handsomer than some of the -Johnnies you'll see on the Rand, when we've got Oom -Paul on the run..."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>So in course of time, Roger, first brevet-Major for -gallantry in action, then a full Major—if there is such -a simple rank no longer qualified with adjectives (but -I know after his campaigns in the Transvaal he was -always styled "Major" Brentham, till he was made a -Colonel)—found his way (always attended by Yusuf -Ali and Anshuro, his Somali batmen) into the eastern -Transvaal at the period when President Kruger and the -other members of his Government were leaving -Pretoria for the Portuguese frontier.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the month of August he took part in a concentration -of British forces against two Boer commandos -in the north-east Transvaal. This resulted in a -technical victory for the British, but whilst the tide of -battle rolled away northwards to seize Pietersburg, -the Boers were left in possession of the site of the first -skirmish. And in a sudden hush after great clamour -Roger realized that he was lying in the shade of some -bushes near a little </span><em class="italics">spruit</em><span> of water, shot through the -thigh and quite incapable of sitting up. The bullet -or bullets had gone clean through the fleshy part of the -right thigh and grazed the knee of the left leg. -Happily they had not broken the thigh bone or cut the great -artery. The Somalis, who had a magical faculty of -turning up when most wanted, had come in handy as -renderers of first aid, had stopped the hæmorrhage. -They now squatted on the ground beside their fainting -master, fanned his sweating face, gave him water to -drink and occasionally sprinkled his chest and forehead -with water to ward off the deadly faintness....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A Boer Colonel came riding by, scanning closely the -scene of the struggle. He claimed the unconscious -Roger as his prisoner—out of pity—and whistled up -carriers and a stretcher to bear him to the nearest -dressing-station.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here he was attended to by one of the numerous -German doctors who had volunteered for service with -the Boer armies.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics">From Major Roger Brentham, D.S.O., to Lady Silchester.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>British Hospital,</span></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Unguja,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><em class="italics">Novr.</em><span> 27, 1900.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAREST SIBYL,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A steamer coming from the south to-day brought -me your letter of last March! I had got several of -your postcards showing yourself and Lady Landolphia -in nurses' uniform and with dreadful smiles of -glittering teeth, and knew of course—heard, I -mean—what you were doing for our men out in South Africa. -The letter was sent on by my Agents; I expect it got -hung up in the military censorship, and I must say I -don't blame them! Your unconscious criticisms of our -generalship were pretty pungent. I wonder I got it at -all. But better late than never! After I have read it -a third time I shall burn it because there is one -classical tag I never forget: </span><em class="italics">Littera scripta manet</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I see by the London papers of September you are -not only back in England—or rather Scotland—but -entertaining as of yore at Glen Sporran. And playing -with the same old toys! How indefatigable you are in -your pursuit of power! How unwearied by the social -routine, which would drive me into exile or into -murder. I should end by killing the poor old -</span><em class="italics">fantoches</em><span>—Vicky Long-i'-the-Tooth, Stacy Bream, and the -others—I forget their names—the Right Honble. gentleman -who spat like a cobra—only it was very kindly saliva, -not at all venomous—and that moral enthusiast over -the Empire—Albert Something. I see by the same -paper he is now Lord Bewdly and has been uttering -some beautiful sentiments over the results expected -from the Boer War.... You were Stellenbosched, -and with reason, because your hospitals and -convalescent homes were there (I see, by the bye, that -Willowby Patterne, who came an awful cropper at -Driefontein and generally misconducted himself, was also -Stellenbosched by K. of K. I hope you did not -foregather with him?) ... Well, as I was saying, you -were Stellenbosched and saw little of the horrors of -War. But I did, and I used often to wish that Albert -person could have been with me and seen the burning -of the homesteads, the cutting down of the fruit-trees, -the fugitive women and little children, the Boer boys -of eleven and twelve dressed up for war like their -fathers and elder brothers and fighting for their homes. -I saw one of these boys—tousled yellow hair, nice -grey eyes—in a buckskin suit much too big for him, -laid out to die by the road-side, just after we had burnt -his father's home. I don't suppose one of our chaps -really set out to kill him. But there it was; he had -been shot through the lungs and was gasping out his -life, blood pouring out of his mouth at each gasp. -And yet he tried to smile and said something in Dutch -about his father being away.... Upon my word I -should have liked to get the Kaiser, old Kruger, —— -and ——[#] all strung up together on the site of that -farm. For they are the four men who together made -this most unnecessary war. I know what lots of our -Tommies said when they heard Kimberley was relieved!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] I shrink from perpetuating all Roger's indiscretions and -impulsive statements.—H.H.J.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As for me, I was laid out soon after with two bullets -through my thigh. But for Yusuf Ali and Anshuro, -my two Somalis; and equally but for a humane Boer -(Colonel van Rensselaer), I should certainly have died. -As it was, the hæmorrhage was stopped and a German -doctor at the field hospital nursed me through a bad -attack of blood-poisoning. I shall never, of course, be -quite the same man again; but I still feel as though there -were a lot of push in me. Soon after my admission -to the hospital at Lydenburg, the Boers evacuated -the place and in course of time I was transported to -Durban and invalided out of the army with the rank -of Major. I had already got a D.S.O., so </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> can't -complain. I would fight any day for England against -England's enemies, but—however, no more grousing. -Let's hope a new order of things is going to set in. I -certainly should like to cut my D.S.O. into three and -give two equal bits to Ali and Anshuro. You've no -idea what those Somali boys were in the matter of -devotion, cheerfulness, astuteness! And yet they only -served me for the ordinary coast wages; though of -course I'm going to give them both a handsome -donation when their time is up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well: here I am at a hospital once more. I must -rest here and get my leg quite sound before I start for -up-country. I have been here for a month, in -telegraphic communication with Lucy and Maud, -imploring them not to come down to the coast to meet me. -Lucy, I fear, is far from strong; and Maud is simply -indispensable to the carrying on of the work up there. -She has shown herself as good as a man. The two -Australians I put there have done their best, but they -don't get on at all well with the Germans. Their -education has been very poor—I mean in book-learning—they -are rattling good in settlers' lore—and, of -course, they utterly refuse to understand German and -openly gibe at it. Their chief recommendation is that -they are absolutely honest....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I lie here chafing and intensely anxious for my worst -wound to heal. I am told I ought to be thankful to -have made such a wonderful recovery. But I feel a -month of Lucy's care for me and the bracing air of -Iraku would set me up altogether; and my mere -presence at Magara put an end to all these -misunderstandings and bitternesses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Schräders were rather aghast at my bolt for -South Africa last year; but stood it on the whole very -well. Of course, I insisted on being reduced to a third -of my pay whilst I was absent. I retained just enough -salary to keep Lucy and Maud going, and maintain the -household....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The whole German attitude over this war has been a -curious one, and so have been its refractions on their -attitude towards me. I hear that after my departure -for the war a strong move was got up to oust me from -the Managership. Now that I have returned wounded -and a Major and a D.S.O. (that was given me the -other day, for capturing Colonel Boshaert and three -hundred men and a thousand cattle near Lydenburg—tell -you all about it one day) they can't say enough in -my favour. I am almost threatened with a triumphal -procession home.... Engine from Tanga wreathed -with palm fronds, etc. Fortunately the train will take -me half the way back, and for the rest I can be carried -in a Machila.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there is little doubt that the mass of the Germans -out here thought we were going to be gravelled by the -Boers and that Germania would step into the shoes of -Britannia. Undoubtedly the Kaiser for the past six -years has been fishing in troubled waters, trying to -connect up German South-West Africa with Boer -territory, and planning to make Germany the dominant -power in South Africa; or, at any rate, the honest -broker between Boer and Briton....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Why the Dutch and the British should be as oil and -water in South Africa and elsewhere, I </span><em class="italics">can't</em><span> think. -But they are. The Dutchman in Africa and Europe is -just a rather finer built, better-looking Englishman or -Scotchman; but in language, mentality and above all -in a curiously hard attitude towards the Negro, he is -Teutonic. The whole set of South Africa is towards -Germany.... That is why Rhodes lost his head....</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Your affectionate</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>ROGER.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>P.S. See you next year or year after, as soon as -ever I have got everything going here as it was before -the war, and it is safe to come away. I must go on -with this until I can retire with a competency.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-morals-of-the-happy-valley"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE MORALS OF THE HAPPY VALLEY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"I am so glad, so </span><em class="italics">truly</em><span> glad you are almost your -old self again," said Mrs. Stott, one brilliant -morning in the spring of 1901, to Major Brentham, -who had been four months back at his home in Iraku. -He did indeed look as if he had in a measure -recovered his good looks and energy, though the right leg -was still stiff and much riding or walking brought on -pain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It emboldens me to embark on a very disagreeable -subject which I have been saving up to discuss with -you. We cannot evade it much longer; so—if you -have the patience—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am always patient with you, Mrs. Stott. There -are few people I respect more...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you. Then I shall take up an hour or more -of your time, if you are not very busy. But how is -Lucy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lucy is not well; anæmic, Dr. Wiese says. I -should send her home, only she refuses to go without -me and I can't leave till next year. Dr. Wiese does -not insist on her going before then. He is trying a -new tonic which seems to be blood-making; it ought -to be, because—though I do not tell Lucy—it is made -of blood—one of these new German inventions. -Wiese says if we would only do like the Masai and the -Iraku: tap the veins of our cattle and drink the hot -blood—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ugh! don't let's talk about it; it makes me sick. -I'm almost a vegetarian, you know. Couldn't we go -into your study? It is delicious here on the verandah, -but I don't want to be overheard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly: come this way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What </span><em class="italics">wonderful</em><span> petunias, yours are! I never saw -such glowing colours. Your whole garden is a joy to -the eye and a credit to the Concession...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're </span><em class="italics">right</em><span>. But the credit lies with Riemer, the -plantation manager; he gives it an eye. The Germans -are wonderful horticulturists. I don't think we -sufficiently appreciate that fact at home. They are as good -as the Dutch. Now then, here we are in my sanctum—rather -untidy, I fear.... Take this chair..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, it is too reclining. I </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> like an upright -straight-backed chair when I want to speak out. My -daughters say I'm like a character in one of Dickens's -books, who could never loll. They're wonderful -readers and remember everything they've read...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well now, what's the trouble?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's—it's—this—horrid—</span><em class="italics">sexual</em><span> question I've -come about. You know what Ann Anderson is—I -prefer to call her Ann Jamblin—I don't like the two -'An's' together. Ann has a wonderful power for -good, an energy in righteousness, and is as nearly -sinless as any woman can be. But she's also got </span><em class="italics">such</em><span> -an insight into other people's sinfulness that she spends -much of her time denouncing their wrong-doing—too -much, I think. I tell her she's out here to convert -the blacks, and for the time being had better leave -the whites alone. But she pays no heed to me—says -her mission is to all men. She simply won't let the -Germans alone. We had terrible rows sometimes -when you were away, though your sister did what she -could to smooth things over. I admit some of them -are utterly wicked. There is that monster -Stolzenberg—whom the Masai call 'The Terror'—</span><em class="italics">Olduria</em><span>—. -After he came to the Lake with his Ruga-ruga last -October and shot all the flamingoes...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"WHAT?" roared Roger, leaping to his feet, and -then wincing... "I never heard this before...!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No? Well: sit down. You ought to rest your -leg. Lucy didn't want you to know. She thought it -would upset you so—And indeed, it was a shocking -pity.... But you'd soon have noticed how few there -are left—even from here on a clear day.... I -understand Stolzenberg sent a huge consignment of their -plumage to a firm he trades with in Marseilles. And -he has been going about to other lakes doing the same. -But I must stick to the point.... Where was I? -Oh, yes! ... Ann, who lives in our old station at -Mwada, was awfully upset because she had become so -fond of these birds, besides being infuriated at -Stolzenberg's Ruga-ruga occasionally carrying off women. -So she wrote him a letter saying that if he showed -himself in the Concession again she would take a gun to -him herself. She solemnly cursed him and called down -Divine punishment on his head. Unfortunately—for -I think the whole thing was </span><em class="italics">most</em><span> unwise—she paid a -Masai who came along to trade to deliver the letter at -Stolz's boma. The watchman at the gate made him -come in and give the letter himself, and Stolz having -read it had the man's left hand chopped off, tied it to -his right, and said that was the answer to the English -Missionaries and that was how he'd treat any other -messengers sent to him.... The poor wretch arrived -at Mwada a week afterwards nearly dead with loss of -blood.... Of course, the Masai have again sworn -vengeance against this monster: but what can they do? -But that is not our worst trouble. Before you went, -and whilst you were away, Ann took up the sex -question. You know how set she was on the elevation of -the native women? You used to laugh about her -corps of Amazons, her 'Big-geru.' She hadn't been -long with us before she began to interest herself in the -young women of Iraku.... Those of the -Wambugwe are, I must confess, </span><em class="italics">hopeless</em><span> at present; I mean -as regards chastity. Poor things! They are -corrupted and degraded from childhood. But there is -something superior—something of another race in the -Iraku and Fiome. You said once they were partly -descended from some Gala immigration of long ago?...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Ann, who is untirable, started a class of -these Iraku young women before she had been six -months in the Happy Valley. The chiefs—I dare say -you remember speaking to some of them? ... </span><em class="italics">quite</em><span> -approved and sent their young daughters. She taught -them cooking and laundry work, plain sewing, reading -and writing. And now she finds, after they have been -a year or two at our schools, they go off and live with -white men....!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "I dare say they do, and have a much -better time with them than with their own men. But -what white men? German, I suppose?..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Mrs. Stott</em><span>: "Ah, </span><em class="italics">there</em><span> you touch my greatest -sorrow. Yes. Every German I know on this concession -keeps a native woman, mostly from our classes. But I -fear—I fear—my nephew Phil and the clerk -Stallibrass as well—my two Australian boys—are not -much more moral. Their relations with the native -women won't bear investigation. That is not all -... and I have no right to be here as an accuser when I -can't answer for my own son, Edgar.... You -remember you offered in 1897 to take him home with -you, and have him sent to an English school or college -for a year or two? I wish ... I wish ... we had -consented. It was so good of you. But we thought -at the time that if children can grow up into God-fearing -men and women in Australia without leaving the -back-blocks or the bush, why not here, where the -climate is good? Then there was the question of the -cost...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "I suppose he has got all his education -from you and his father?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Mrs. Stott</em><span>: "Yes, indeed. The main thing, -besides religion, was to teach our children to read and -write and do simple accounts. All they wanted -besides was to read the books we ordered out.... I'm -sure you can't say we have been indifferent to -literature?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "No—not of a certain kind ... but all -of it, from what I have seen, is rather old-fashioned -and goody-goody...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Mrs. Stott</em><span>: "I don't agree. However, I won't -stop to argue about it. It matters little, since Edgar -from the age of twelve or thirteen has cared very little -for reading. His passion is </span><em class="italics">sport</em><span>. And to think how -I ran down big-game shooting, when it was not vitally -necessary for our supplies! Of course, James is a -good shot and a clever hunter, and Edgar, after he was -twelve, used to go out with him. He killed an -elephant to his own gun when he was only fifteen, and the -tusks fetched as much as £60! He </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> proud. Now -his one idea is to be away shooting ... and trifling -with these Iraku women. Oh!" (crying a little). -"</span><em class="italics">Can't</em><span> you see how it </span><em class="italics">silences</em><span> me? Ann talks about -cutting off a member that offends and says I should -expel my own son from the Mission for loose living.... -I can't do that, and besides there's nothing proved.... -But I can't very well join her in her crusade against -... she </span><em class="italics">will</em><span> use such plain words ... against -fornication and unclean living. I suppose we shall have to -send Edgar away ... back to Australia ... And -then I fear much for his future. Thank goodness! -He's a total abstainer, so far.... Ought we to invite -some young woman to come out here for the mission, -in the hope that he might marry her and settle down?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "Wouldn't be a bad idea, if you could -insure her taking his fancy. I haven't seen Master -Edgar for months or taken much notice of him since -he came to man's estate. Struck me, he was growing -up a nice-looking lad...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Mrs. Stott</em><span>: "Indeed he is! It's his good looks -that are his snare.... The native women run after -him so...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "Does he work for us or for the Mission?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Mrs. Stott</em><span>: "He is his father's assistant in the -Carpentering school; but he's too much given to -larking with the boys, who look upon him as a kind of hero. -Of course, he speaks their language almost as if it -came natural to him. His real bent is for Natural -History ... that's the only excuse for his sport. We -sell the collections he makes to the Germans. One of -your mining engineers has taught him photography. -He takes wonderful pictures of wild life. We posted -some home to the </span><em class="italics">Graphic</em><span>, and with the money they -paid, Edgar sent to Unguja and bought himself a -snap-shot camera.... Am I keeping you from your work?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "You are: but we don't often meet -nowadays for a talk. Let's thrash this matter out. -Well?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Mrs. Stott</em><span>: "Well, I was going on to say, with all -this Edgar's mind is turning away from religion. We -have hard work to get him to attend our services... -He even shocked his father the other day by saying he -was sick of the Bible.... I say, 'even,' because ever -since my dear James has been getting up these industrial -schools you were so keen on, he has become less -and less spiritually minded, more and more interested -in the material things of this world. He only </span><em class="italics">pretends</em><span> -to care for the Second Coming of Christ ... just to -please me. He is much more interested in his new -turning lathe" ... (dabs her eyes and blows her -nose). "His prayers have become very trite. If it -wasn't for my daughters...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "Let me see: you have two daughters out -here—Pretty girls.... They must be growing up...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Mrs. Stott</em><span>: "Yes. Carrie's nearly nineteen; and -Lulu is sixteen. We called her 'Luisa,' not from the -English name, but because 'Luisa' means 'darkness' -in Kagulu, and when she was born she had dark hair -and dark eyes ... she's fairer now.... And the -way, then, seemed dark before us.... I was very ill -at the time...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "And then the eldest of all is at home, I -mean in England....?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Stott: "Yes. Rosamund, named after me. -She's a school teacher in Ireland, and practically a -stranger to us. That's one of the sorrows of our life -out here. Not that we haven't many blessings to -counter-balance it—I'm sure the way we've kept our -health in the Happy Valley—But we have either to -send our children away to England or Australia, or -bring them up here, with many disadvantages, it -would be a pity to bring Rosamund away from a career -where she is doing very well...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "Quite so. Well then, we have only to -deal with Carrie as a possible wife to one of our young -men...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Mrs. Stott</em><span>: "As a matter of fact, Riemer proposed -to her a few months ago. But Carrie is very particular; -and besides, she wouldn't marry a German...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "What nonsense! In what way are they -inferior to Englishmen or Australians? I'm sure -Riemer..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Mrs. Stott</em><span> (tightening her lips): "Not to be -thought of. Riemer is an avowed atheist..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "Oh, of course, if religion is to come in -the way...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Mrs. Stott</em><span>: "It isn't only religion, there are other -things. No. Don't let my daughters come under -discussion. Why couldn't the Germans here send home -for nice German girls to come out and marry them, or -get married when they next went on leave...?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "Why not, indeed? I'll talk to them. -Much better they should do so. But then, what'll -happen by and by is what </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> don't want to happen. -The Germans will marry white women, have large -families and gradually push out the Negroes and turn -this into a White Man's country—unless the climate -and the germ diseases forbid.... I'm not sure -myself that I don't favour a mixture of races and that the -Americans for example are not better suited to America -because of their strong underlying element of Indian -blood—I suppose you would not like it if the Germans -married their concubines?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Mrs. Stott</em><span>: "As an Australian I am prejudiced -against the mixture of the races..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "Well, but Dame Nature isn't, in her -inconsequent way. First she prompts the original -human ancestors—your Adam and Eve—to segregate -and separate and differentiate into sub-species, almost. -Then she seems sorry for it, and does all she can to -bring them together again, prompts the White man to -travel all over the world and mix his blood freely with -that of the other races. She has been redeeming the -Negro from his original blackness and apishness by -sending white immigrants into Africa for thousands of -years—Egyptians, Carthaginians, Romans, Greeks, -Arabs, Indians; Portuguese, Dutch, French, English; -to say nothing of all the Mediterranean peoples who -pressed into Africa in prehistoric days. They have -all mingled with the Negro in their time and -rehumanized him. You own to a </span><em class="italics">penchant</em><span> for the Iraku -people. Why? Even for the Masai. Why do you -really prefer them to the out-and-out Negro type, like -the Kindiga and Wambugwe? Because they have a -strain of ancient white blood in their veins. Same -thing with the Swahili. We like them because of the -Arab intermixture. And yet we talk and write a lot -of rubbish about disliking the half-caste between a -European and a Negro—By the bye, since we are -talking on this subject, did I or did I not see a -half-caste child in the compound of Schnitzler, that mining -engineer who is such a friend of Edgar's?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Mrs. Stott</em><span>: "You did, at least Schnitzler's native -woman has had a child by him—two years ago. And -if you looked all through the settlement you could find -three other half-caste infants.... They make no -secret of it...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "Why </span><em class="italics">should</em><span> they? If they must form -these unions, it is better they should be sanctified by -the production of children. I must say it redeems the -whole thing in my eyes; the Germans don't ignore their -half-caste children, but have them properly brought up. -It is better than what you call 'sinning in secret' and -blushing at—or repudiating the consequences.... -This </span><em class="italics">maddening</em><span> question of sexual irregularities, -which now seems to clog the progress of all European -Colonies, and to fill up the press of the United States -and of England—are they always writing about it in -Australia?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Mrs. Stott</em><span>: "Strange to say, we never get any -Australian papers. I don't know whether Phil does -either.... I seem to belong so very much more to -England or to north Ireland, where all my relations -live...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "... I often wish the Almighty or -Nature or Chance—or whatever it was that developed -us out of lifeless matter—had not tried this clever -trick of the two sexes—I suppose it began a hundred -million years ago, in the union of two entirely different -microbes. I wish we had been allowed to go on -increasing by fissure, by budding. Certainly among the -world-problems of to-day it is the most difficult to -solve. I sometimes feel irritated against Christianity -for the fuss it makes about Chastity. But I imagine -it arose from the tremendous revulsion that took place -in the Eastern Mediterranean two thousand years ago -against an excessive sexual licence: just in those very -countries where the purest doctrines of self-restraint -were afterwards preached. The Christian ideal -certainly seems the most likely to promote a good type -of human being, but it is very hard to live up to.... -Yet what texts you could find—in favour of Chastity—you -missionaries—</span><em class="italics">if</em><span> you only realized the history -of the Negro and did not go merely to the Old and -New Testament for your pegs to hang a sermon on. -The Negro is in his present inferior position because -he has weakened his mental energy by extravagant -sexual indulgence—and limited his numbers. Do you -find the Happy Valley any less depraved than Nguru -or Ugogo?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Stott: "I should </span><em class="italics">think not</em><span>. A little worse, -if possible! I assure you, Major Brentham, when we -first arrived from Australia I had </span><em class="italics">no conception</em><span> there -could </span><em class="italics">exist</em><span> such </span><em class="italics">depravity, such</em><span> vices. They were -referred to here and there in the Bible. But I did not -know what the references meant...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "Well: there you are. </span><em class="italics">That</em><span> is a justification -for your being here, as in other parts of Africa.... -If you and we can only give the Negro </span><em class="italics">something -else to think of</em><span>. He is like our labouring class at -home. It is the only pleasure he knows of. Give him -education, ambition, sports, remunerative work, an -interest, even, in better food, in better houses, pictures, -music, theatres..." (Mrs. Stott shudders.) "Well: -there you are, making a face at the theatre. You won't -distract the Negro—or the European—from indulging -sexual desires by prayers and hymns and the -reading of ancient scriptures: </span><em class="italics">that's</em><span> certain. I know we -differ there, and you must be already worn out with -this lengthy conversation. As you've stayed so long, -stay a little longer and have lunch with us? Lucy was -only saying this morning she never sees you nowadays. -You can go and have a talk to her, while I glance -through these reports. See, by the bye, they give your -donkey a feed, and put it safely in the stable. The -other day one of ours disappeared. Of course, they -said it was a leopard——"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>At luncheon. The dining-room at Magara House -is a fair-sized apartment, with walls of well-smoothed -cement surface of pinkish tone, due to red ochre being -mixed with the cement. On the walls are hung a few -clever pastel studies done by a talented German -horticulturist who has an eye for colour and design; there -are trophies of shields and spears; there is a dado of -native matting; and a smooth floor surface of red -</span><em class="italics">chunam</em><span> plaster, made by Indian masons from the coast. -In a pleasant bay which looks on to the front verandah -a magnificent lion's skin lies between the window-seats....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A Swahili butler and footman clothed in long white -</span><em class="italics">kansus</em><span>, with white "open-work" skull-caps, and black, -gold-embroidered </span><em class="italics">visibao</em><span>,[#] are serving the luncheon, -cooked admirably by the still surviving husband of -Halima, the Goanese Andrade. The meal consists of -chicken broth, flavoured with grated coco-nut and red -chillies; curried prawns (out of tins); kid cutlets and -chip potatoes; Mango "fool"; and a </span><em class="italics">macédoine de -fruits</em><span>—fresh pineapple, bananas, sliced papaw, and -oranges. [A little Rhine wine flavoured the -fruit-salad and was served at table with Seltzer water.] Then, -in the alcove with the lion skin [the door-window -opens on to the verandah with the petunia beds below -in carmine and purple blaze] the servants place Turkish -coffee and cigarettes. Mrs. Stott only drinks Seltzer -water and declines a cigarette; but thoroughly enjoys -her lunch and congratulates Lucy on the flower-decorations -of the table....</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] Sleeveless waistcoats.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"It's Hamisi, our butler, that deserves your praise. -I get so easily tired in these days that I seldom do the -flowers as I used. I make up for it by doing all the -mending that Maud will let me have and writing all -the letters home. John and Maudie expect a full -account of our doings every month.... And dear -sister Maud that is here, is always busy over our accounts -and Roger's business correspondence and her poultry -farming. You know whilst Roger was in South -Africa she almost took his place!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, as to that," says Maud, who has a strong sense -of justice, "you must all admit Hildebrandt and -Dr. Wiese both played up. I shall </span><em class="italics">never</em><span> forget how loyal -they were to Roger ... they might have been -Englishmen ... and that, too, at a time when other -Germans out here were looking askance at us, and that -horrible Stolzenberg was threatening to raid the -Concession and seize the mines..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By the bye," says Roger, "you never told me, -either of you, about the Flamingo outrage. There are -many things I could forgive, but not that. It was one -of my great pleasures out here, going to see the Stotts -and watching the flamingoes on the lake shore. If I'd -been here at the time I should certainly have followed -up the brute and shot him..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We didn't tell you because we wanted you to get -well, and feared you might do something violent before -your leg was healed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, now that I know, I shall certainly lodge a -strong complaint with the German Commandant at -Kondoa...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ann Anderson has solemnly cursed him for his -cruelty," said Mrs. Stott. "She said so in the letter -she sent him by the poor Masai whose hand he chopped -off. I think that, by the bye, is better worth taking -up with the authorities than the flamingo massacre. -I'm afraid you won't find many of the Germans -sympathize with you there, though I must admit they are -a great loss to the scenery. But Ann said in the letter: -'If man doesn't punish you, God will.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course," said Roger, "it is a scandal the way -the Germans tolerate this monster, just because, like -Patterne—I suppose </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> hasn't turned up again?..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"... Just because he lives on the outskirts of -civilization in no man's land. I shall try a ride on one -of the Basuto ponies next week, go first of all and see -your old station of Mwada, interview Ann, remind her -of the parable of the Mote and the Beam, ask her to go -slow ... with these denunciations of moral frailty; -and get some idea of the damage done to the -flamingoes. I expect my complaints may draw down on me -counter remonstrances from the Germans. I heard a -growl the other day from a Herr Inspektor of Native -schools that you taught no German" (addressing -Mrs. Stott), "only Swahili and a little English. What -could you do in that respect? I should not like them -to have any excuse for interference with you...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Mrs. Stott, her face paling at the very -thought, "after all the </span><em class="italics">time, labour, money</em><span>—much of -it </span><em class="italics">your</em><span> money—that we've put into Mission work in -the Happy Valley. Oh, </span><em class="italics">why</em><span> wasn't it taken over by -the English? ... I think it would </span><em class="italics">break my -heart</em><span> to leave it and begin our work over again. We've -got so fond of the people ..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be down-hearted," said Roger, "I shall -always stand up for them as long as I'm here, and I -have no intention of going—except for a holiday—for -ever so long.... </span><em class="italics">What a strange noise</em><span>...?!..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A prolonged, distant rumble, like the sound a big -avalanche makes in the Alps: and before they could -speculate on its meaning, the ground trembled under -their feet, the two-storied house seemed to sway this -way and that, and then settle itself with a jarring thud. -Fine dust fell from the ceiling; trophies of shields and -spears came clattering down, the glass and china on -the table tinkled, the finger-bowls giving forth a -prolonged musical note. Outside, after a moment's hush, -cocks crowed, hens whooped, geese raised grating -screams, peacocks honked and yelled, turkeys gobbled -and crowned cranes threw back their golden-crested -heads and uttered their resounding call.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An earth tremor," said Roger in an even voice, for -Lucy looked like fainting. "A </span><em class="italics">very small</em><span> earthquake; -</span><em class="italics">nothing</em><span> to be alarmed at, though it turns one a bit sick -inside. They don't often happen. This is only the -second I've experienced in ten years. You see, we -live on the border of a volcanic region. Here, </span><em class="italics">Lucy</em><span>! -Pull yourself together. Have a nip of brandy?...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Better? Let's get out into the air, on the -verandah, and see if any damage has been done.... I -hope it won't affect our mining galleries...."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But no reports of damage from the earthquake came -to hand. The natives said that these shocks were -sometimes followed by outbursts of gases, smoke, -steam from one or other of the craters in the north.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A week after Mrs. Stott's visit, Roger, accompanied -by Maud to look after him and see he did not -overstrain himself, rode down into the Happy Valley to -Mwada station. Here they interviewed the redoubtable -Ann, now a square-built grey-haired matron of -middle age and practically no sexual charm. She had -black eyes, glowering under black eyebrows, a sallow -complexion, and a thin-lipped mouth, with down-turned -corners, like the mouth of Queen Victoria when she was -displeased. Ann listened in grim silence to Major -Brentham's hesitating remonstrances. When he had -finished she replied that it was more than flesh and -blood could stand that she should be spending her time -and the Mission money training up native girls to be -Christian wives for Christian natives, and as soon as -they had learnt some civilization they were sought out -and snapped up by Germans, inside and outside the -Concession. It wasn't for that she had come out to -Africa....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> feel for you and will see what can be done," -said Brentham; "but at the same time we must -remember we are not on British territory, where they -stand a good deal from the missionaries, but in </span><em class="italics">German</em><span> -Africa. The Germans have made a handsome -acknowledgment of what Mr. Stott has done in the way -of industrial teaching. Don't go and spoil it all by -being too ready to denounce these—these—irregularities! -Things may right themselves in time. It -would be such a dreadful blow to the Stotts if they -were told to go, to leave the work of so many -years...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann would promise nothing, however. She would -speak as the Spirit bade her.... For the present her -time was taken up with mission work among the -Wambugwe, who were </span><em class="italics">quite</em><span> the worst heathens she had met -with. "Not only terribly depraved—they eat the -corpses of their dead!!!—but the dirtiest Negroes I -have ever seen, and </span><em class="italics">wholly</em><span> lacking in spirituality."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well then," said Roger, "</span><em class="italics">there</em><span> you've got your -work cut out, for several years. Meantime I will talk -to our German friends...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Friends</em><span>, indeed?" said Ann. "They're </span><em class="italics">no -friends</em><span> of </span><em class="italics">mine</em><span>!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In spite of her fierceness of denunciation, she made -both Roger and Maud as comfortable as she could at -her rather Spartan station, and became so happy, -friendly and even tearful during the evening with -Maud, talking over the little world of Reading and -Basingstoke, Aldermaston and Englefield, that evening -prayers for once were intermitted. Her husband sat -mostly silent, listening respectfully. It was evident -that he worked very hard at material things during the -day, that he stood much in awe of his wife, and had -completely lost his gift of extempore prayer. Their -one daughter was a thin, sickly, wistful little girl of -ten, very shy, and fonder of her father than of her -mother. But according to Ann she was already a good -needlewoman, and helped in the sewing classes. Kind -Maud proposed she should be fetched one day and -taken to Magara for a week's stay. The air was so -good there. Ann consented a little reluctantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They rode their Basuto ponies to see if there were -traces of Stolzenberg's slaughter of the flamingoes. -But the bodies had evidently been carried away from -the lake to be skinned and because the bones were -valuable; and the sole visible result of the raid was the -absence of adult birds in pink plumage. There only -remained of the former serried ranks a thin broken -line of ugly immature flamingoes, dirty-white in -plumage, streaked with brown. They were dibbling -timidly in the thick waters of the lake; and this had also -lost much of its former beauty—though Stolzenberg -was not responsible for the slow desiccation of East -Africa. The lake just now was no longer a uniform -sheet of cobalt, bordered with a grey-white fringe of -salt and guano mixed; it was reduced to two large -areas of deep water with grey mud in between. How -different from what Roger had seen in the glamour of -1888!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Away from the lake shore, in a detour through the -foot-hills, they met a few wandering Masai on their -way to trade at the Mission station. They greeted -Roger with acclamations of friendship and much -spitting. Without an interpreter he could not understand -them, but they kept pointing to the north-west and -evidently referring to the wicked Stolzenberg under their -name of </span><em class="italics">Oleduria</em><span> ("The Terror"); and at the same -time to "God"—</span><em class="italics">Engai</em><span>. They talked with the satisfied -tone of a thing now settled, and went on their way -to interview the Woman-chief who was their medical -adviser, and would-be converter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They may have heard of Ann's letter," said Roger, -"and believe her curse is coming off. Do you see -where they were pointing? ... That curious cloud -that seems to be rising high in the air, rising and -falling, as though one of the craters were showing signs of -activity?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As soon as he returned to Magara, Roger drew up a -formal complaint against Stolzenberg, addressed to the -officer commanding in Irangi. He set forth the long -tale of misdeeds on the part of "The Terror" during -the past ten years and urged the German authority for -the good name of the Empire to arrest and try this -bandit. If this were not done, he would be compelled -to place all the facts before the German directors of -the Concessionaire Company whose employés' people -and property suffered so much from Stolzenberg's raids -and violence. The maiming of the Masai messenger -was a concrete case, whatever might be thought of the -offence in slaughtering the flamingoes, birds whose -guano was one of the Concession's assets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A fortnight later a military force of one hundred -Askari and two twelve-pounder mountain guns arrived -at Wilhelmshöhe—as the entire scattered settlement -of the Concession in the Iraku Hills was called (at the -request of the Schräders: the Stotts never got nearer -the pronunciation than "Williamshoe"). The force -was commanded by two smart-looking German -lieutenants and a white Feldwebel. The lieutenants, who -saluted Brentham as Herr Major, said they were to act -under his orders. He was commissioned as a magistrate -to proceed to the Red Crater and arrest Adolf -Stolzenberg, but not supposed to take any part in the -fighting, if force was to be used. That was </span><em class="italics">their</em><span> -business. The Herr Oberst who had sent them -remembered that Major Brentham had been wounded in -the South African War, and hoped he would take care -of himself; if his health was not equal to the journey, -then the nearest German district commissioner would -go instead. But Roger, in spite of his wife's -pleadings and Maud's warnings, was keen to see the thing -through. Besides, he could serve as guide. So in -course of time the expedition found itself drawn up -on the grassy plateau and facing the heavy wooden -door and stone wall. A summons to open in the name -of the law was shouted by the Feldwebel, who had -an immense voice. There was no response. Then the -guns, put into position, came into play and shattered -the door to fragments. One of the lieutenants and -half the force marched in.... Half an hour elapsed.... -Then the lieutenant reappeared with rather a -scared face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We can only suppose either that Stolzenberg fled -some time ago, or that his settlement has simply been -engulfed by some appalling volcanic action. Come in -and see!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger and the rest of the force followed. Inside the -Red Crater, which enclosed a space about a mile in -diameter, very little could at first be seen but clouds of -sulphurous vapours, which when wafted in their direction -nearly stifled them; and clouds of steam where the -little stream from the hidden pool at the further end -of the crater fell into some gulf of heat——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They advanced cautiously; the wind took a different -turn, and at last the rashest pioneers among them -discerned the ground falling away abruptly over a -sharp-cut edge into Hell—as a Dante might have deemed it. -The sulphurous fumes drove them back. The -inevitable conclusion—confirmed in time—was that the -crater had reopened immediately beneath Stolzenberg's -settlement. Houses, people, cattle had all been plunged -into the bowels of the earth, hundreds of feet below to -a fiery furnace. Those humans and cattle who were -nearer the crater walls at the time had possibly been -choked and killed by the gases. Indeed, on their way -out, they saw here and there, at the bases of the red -walls, dead cattle lying stiff, all four legs in the air. -Evidently, inquisitive Masai, after the earthquake, had -climbed the crater-rim from the outside and seen -enough to guess that the white Woman-chief's curse -had come home, and the great enemy of the Masai and -his murderous band of raiders had gone suddenly to -an awful doom.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="eight-years-have-passed-by"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">EIGHT YEARS HAVE PASSED BY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Eight years have passed since Roger Brentham -staggered, half stupefied with sulphur fumes, from -the Red Crater; satisfied with a great sense of relief -and no pity, that Stolzenberg and his raiding -Ruga-ruga had come to a deserved end.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Terror" having been wiped out in a way -which brought an enormous accession of prestige to -Mrs. Anderson of the Ewart-Stott Industrial Mission, -the Happy Valley Concession was relieved for a time -of any active enemy. Willowby Patterne, who had -again taken up his abode on his Namanga property -(after having once more passed through the Divorce -Court—this time at the instance of a deluded but -determined American wife), may have been disposed to -fish in waters of his own troubling, have itched to -share in the immense wealth now pouring out from the -region where Roger had forestalled him. But meantime -he had been a little sobered by Stolzenberg's tragic -end. So he devoted himself for these eight years to -shooting enormous quantities of big-game on the -scarcely inhabited tracts of northern German East -Africa. The Germans remonstrated with him at times -for his breaches of their perfunctory Game Regulations; -but an equal disregard for these attempts to save -the fauna was shown by German hunters. Willowby -imported and exported most of his goods and supplies, -all his hides and ivory by German railway routes, sent -them to be sold in German markets, and took care to -be on good terms with German frontier officials. So -his baleful activities were not materially interfered with. -On the British side of the frontier he was also -regarded with lenience for reasons not specified. He -was popular among the East African planters because -he kept the native in his proper place and evaded the -"silly" restrictions on unlimited "sport." Apart -from his matrimonial affairs, which were a source of -recurrent, rather piquant scandal, he was not without -a certain prestige in England. He had made his -ranching property pay considerable profits out of the chase -and cattle-breeding, and had thus pacified his most -pressing creditors. He earned other large sums by -acting, for three months in the dry season, as guide and -arranger of big-game "shoots" to excessively rich -Americans who wanted the thrill of firing into the -brown of dense herds of antelope and zebra, getting -perchance a maned lion without too much danger, or -similarly bringing down an elephant of medium size -(they would buy tusks "to go with it" from Patterne's -store), or a record rhino (Patterne supplied the -"record" horn; the poor specimen killed by the millionaire -was given to the Andorobo trackers to eat).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having accidentally brought to light several new -varieties or sub-species of antelope among the thousands -he shot for their hides and horns, he was deemed a -great "naturalist" in the Cromwell Road Museum; -and Roger's anger whenever his name was mentioned—calling -up as it did many a mental picture of lifeless -wastes of prairie strewn with bone-heaps where once -rioted a wonderful and harmless Zoological gardens—was -put down to jealousy of Patterne's marksmanship.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Twice in these eight years Roger had been to -England. In 1902 he had escorted his wife and sister -home, and stayed there six months to make his -children's acquaintance. In 1906 he and Maud, who kept -house for him at Magara in Lucy's absence, again -returned for a long holiday; and in the following year -brought Lucy back with them for a last stay in the -Happy Valley—a last stay, because Roger calculated -on retiring from the management of the Concession in -1909. He would then sell out his shares, and on the -proceeds would be wealthy enough to leave Africa to -younger men and devote himself to home politics. No -more, after 1909, would Lucy be torn in two in her -affections, longing to be by her husband, pining in fact -without him; yet miserable at the idea of her children -growing up outside her care and supervision.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John, as it was, showed himself devoted to the -splendiferous and dazzling "Aunt Sibyl"; and even -Fat Maud (no longer a dumpling, but still distinguished -by this adjective from the other Maud, thirty-five -years older, and spare of build) ... even Fat -Maud preferred Englefield as a home to the humbler -Church Farm at Aldermaston; and adopted a rather -patronizing tone towards the quiet, pale-faced, languid, -timid mother who had rusticated so many years in the -wilds of Africa that she was ignorant of free-wheel -bicycles, motor-cars, gramophones, two-step dances, -ping-pong, hockey, and diabolo.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>During these eight years Mrs. Bazzard's persistent -letters to Sir Bennet Molyneux had their reward. Her -Spencer was removed from malarial, out-of-the-world -East Africa and made Consul-General at Halicarnassus, -to preside with judicial functions over a Consular -Court in Asia Minor, on £900 a year and allowances. -Mrs. Bazzard foresaw for herself a glorious -early autumn to her life, as a leading lady in the -Levant, with an occasional dress from Paris, a -prominence in Levantine Society, a possible visit of the -Royal yacht to this old-world Turkish harbour where -Herodotos once lived and wrote; and inevitably a -knighthood on retirement for the re-animated doll, the -Spencer into whom she had really infused new stuffing. -"Oh, that </span><em class="italics">dearest</em><span> Mother might live"—in Bayswater, -it would not do to have her at Halicarnassus—"to -refer to her daughter as 'Lady Bazzard'!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She has long ceased to take much interest in the -Brenthams, once Roger Brentham—with whom she -believes herself to have had a serious and compromising -flirtation in 1887, and sometimes hints as much to -her Spencer when his interest in her flags—no longer -has his name in lists of officials likely to get between -Spencer and a Mediterranean post. She is, however, a -little annoyed from time to time to see he is not socially -dead ... that highly placed officials actually notice -him. For instance, the Bazzards when at home in -1902 could not obtain, try they ever so hard, a place -in the Abbey to see King Edward crowned. But -Roger saw the ceremony from a modest nook inside -the nave; saw Sibyl in ermine and crimson velvet and -ostrich plumes, nodding right and left to acquaintances -and wreathed in smiles, pass before him with other -peers and peeresses to her appointed place; and -probably owed his seat to the intervention of the African -Department of the Foreign Office, or to a request from -the President of the Royal Geographical Society, as -the recognition due to a distinguished explorer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had forgotten by now any rancour he might have -retained for the Foreign Office, and would drop in at -the African Department from time to time for a chat -with "Rosy" Walrond—who was proposing to go to -Unguja to tighten things up, and intended to come and -stay with him in the Happy Valley and see with his -own incredulous eyes the Red Crater and its bottomless -pit, and the lovely maidens of Iraku who were the -cause of Mrs. Anderson's heartbreak. Or with Ted -Parsons—about to be named Consul-General at -Naples; or kind old Snarley Yow, who said he wished now -he had done like Roger: chucked the F.O. and a -possible pension of £700 a year and gone in for an -African Concession like the Happy Valley—suit him down -to the ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The remarkable success of the Happy Valley—the -one bright spot in "German East," where there was -never a native rising and whence came a regular -output of minerals, precious metals, precious stones; -coffee, fibre, rubber, cotton, tanning-bark, hides, poultry -and potatoes; the steady standing of its pound shares -at forty marks on the German exchanges, and the -purring approval of the Schräders: caused Roger to -be increasingly consulted in British Colonial circles -outside the Colonial Office. Diplomatists took an -interest in him, and adjusted their monocles at parties to -see him better. The Foreign Office published as a -White Paper a Report drawn up at their request on the -Big Game of East Africa and its international -importance. Was he to be a means of solving the nascent -Anglo-German rivalry by suggesting a combination of -effort in Colonization? The Schräders hoped so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bazzard was really vexed to see one day in the -weekly edition of the </span><em class="italics">Times</em><span> that on March 25, 1903, -Major Roger Brentham, D.S.O., together with other -guests whose names meant nothing to her, dined with -Lady Silchester to meet the Right Honble. Josiah -Choselwhit, etc., etc.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sibyl at this time still believed Chocho to be the -coming man, the Premier who would set the British -Empire right, bring about an Imperial Customs Union -and a Federation directed from London, and calm -defiance to the rest of the world. She was one of the -earliest of the B.M.G.'s.[#] Roger was of the opposite -school, a school which at best achieves a cool -popularity amongst thinkers. He wanted to bring about a -moral union, so to speak, between the British Empire, -Germany and the United States, a pooling of their -resources; and Universal peace: to ensure which France -should be retroceded a portion of Alsace-Lorraine, and -Germany allowed to grow into a great African Power. -There were many faults in the German conception of -how Negro Africa should be administered; but the -same faults were to be seen in British Africa; the same -reforms would apply to both régimes.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="ncindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] </span><em class="italics small">Vide</em><span class="small"> the columns of the contemporary </span><em class="italics small">Morning Post</em><span class="small">.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But Brentham, though he had distinguished himself -in the fight with the Boers for the overlordship of -South Africa, had disapproved of the policy of the -Raid and had said so, and written caustically on the -subject. His views in some other directions, -especially on Free Trade with Africa, were diametrically -opposed to those of the Idol of the Midlands; so that -Sibyl's attempt to bring them together at her board in -the hope that the Colonial Office might give scope to -her cousin's abilities, was frustrated at the very start. -Chocho said very little to Roger, and Roger, being -anything but a self-pusher, said very little to Chocho.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During these eight years Lucy's father, approaching -and passing the age of seventy, continued to farm at -Aldermaston with vigour and geniality and less and -less conservatism. Lucy's mother was hale and hearty, -with apple-red cheeks, and placidly thankful to the -Lord who had arranged all the affairs of her family so -well—never mind what happened to </span><em class="italics">other</em><span> families: -perhaps it was their fault. Lucy's sister Clara, who -had married Marden the Cricketer, was amassing year -by year an enormous family of alternate boys and -girls, and, as Sibyl said, it would be interesting to -encourage her to go on till she had passed the normal, -and then exhibit her with her progeny at a County -Show. Her husband proved an assistant Agent for -the Silchester estate of progressively increasing worth, -and let cricket go to the wall—or to Australia. His -boss, the Head Agent, Maurice Brentham, lived much -in London and in Staffordshire, supervising the affairs -of the estate in those directions; and managing them -so well that when young Silchester came of age he -would be among the wealthiest of our peers and able -to write and produce mystic operas—if he so willed—or -subsidize a whole Russian ballet—without feeling -the cost. Maurice had never married. His excuse -was the prolificness of Mr. and Mrs. Marden, the -sufficiency of Roger's family, and the seven children -(already) of his brother Captain Geoffrey Brentham, R.N. -Geoffrey was a great begetter: almost like some hero -of the Greek classics. He apparently only spent one -month at home in every fifteen; yet his wife did little -more—especially during these eight years—than -lie-in, nurse, short-coat and wean one child; conceive, -lie-in, nurse and short-coat another. Meantime her -husband took enormous pains over naval marksmanship, -and agitated himself over the quarrels of the -Admirals. Mrs. Geoffrey was the daughter of a Naval -Chaplain with very pronounced views on family prayer -and the uncriticizable nature of the Bible; and on quite -illusory grounds she decided that Roger and his -missionary wife, Maud, Sibyl—who, she was sure, was -the real cause of Maurice not marrying—were all -rather wicked and not worth knowing: so, fortunately, -she absolves me from any concern in her affairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Similarly I can dispose of Sibyl's father by saying -that he died from a wandering clot in 1905, and that -Sibyl only showed perfunctory regret: he had become -a bore of the first water, obsessed by the belief that if -only he had had capital behind him, his ideas about -farming would have revolutionized British agriculture. -Sibyl's mother, unwavering in her attachment to her -spouse, whom she only remembered as the handsome -young captain fresh from gallant service in suppressing -the Indian Mutiny, who had won her affections in 1859, -died also, soon after her husband, probably from some -form of cancer. Aunt Christabel—the Honble. Mrs. Jenkyns -in private life—also died within this period, -somewhere in lodgings—Bath? Both deaths occurred -at awkward junctures when big political parties -had to be put off at a moment's notice; and therefore -wrung from Sibyl not only a few tears of sorrow and -remorse—</span><em class="italics">Had</em><span> she been quite kind to either? Would -she, too, live to be old, boring, unlovely, and -consequently unloved?—but also exclamations of -annoyance at people who chose the supreme moments of the -season, when Royalty was once again showing an -interest in you, to take to their beds and die.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Old Mr. Baines, the proprietor of the Aerated -Beverages Manufactory at Tilehurst, died of diabetes in -1906. He left his money—a few thousand pounds—on -trust to John, the eldest son of Captain and -Mrs. Roger Brentham, subject to a life interest for -Mrs. Baines. His spouse had led him a life, as he -expressed it, since her son's death in 1888. She had -passed from the most narrow-minded piety to a raging -disbelief in all churches, sects, and creeds. The -"raging" was chiefly inward or expressed through her -pen in "open" letters to clergymen, philanthropists, or -scandalized county journals. Otherwise she maintained -a Trappist silence, neglected the house-keeping, -injured the business by scaring away customers. At -length in 1901 she took to denying in a loud voice at -Reading markets and other assemblages of crowds (as -in her letters to the </span><em class="italics">Berks Observer</em><span> and the </span><em class="italics">Newbury -Times</em><span>), the very existence of a God; and then public -opinion obliged her husband to have her put away into -an asylum.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Curiously enough she offered little opposition to this -measure. She asked for, and was allowed, a large -quantity of books, and became with the aid of new -spectacles an omnivorous reader. She gave little trouble. -Her husband made a liberal payment to the asylum, but -as this ceased at his death, and the Trustees showed a -mean desire for economy, it occurred to the medical -man in charge—not without a conscience—to re-examine -Mrs. Baines and see if she really was mad. -As a result he pronounced her restored to sanity. She -made no comment on her release, faithful to her vow -of silence, but with the help of her trustees she -purchased a small cottage on the Bath Road near Theale. -The sight of the enormous motor traffic and the bicycle -accidents seemed to amuse her. Roger, during his -1906-7 holiday in England, at Lucy's wish went to see -her, to be satisfied she was properly cared for. She -received him in grim silence, offered a Windsor chair, -and listened taciturnly to his stammering, apologetic -inquiries. When he stopped speaking she drew blotter, -pen, and ink towards her, and wrote in a bold hand -on a sheet of notepaper: "The British people are </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> -the Ten Lost Tribes of Israel; more fools they, if they -were. I agree with you about Religion. I forgive -Lucy. I am glad little John is to have my money when -I die, but I shall live as long as I can to find out the -Truth. Don't come any more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She then conducted him to the door—it was in the -shocking summer of 1907—pointed to the grey sky of -a cold, dripping July and to the ruined hay crops in an -adjacent field, to the green corn beaten to the earth -and to a collision between a motor cyclist and a -push-bike on the Bath Road. Then her long, furrowed lips -curved into an awful smile—a smile perhaps her dead -son had never seen—her angry eyes and her crooked, -uplifted finger expressed a derisive query as to the -existence of any Providential concern for the welfare -of Man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Therewith she returned to her books and the studies -she had taken up so late in life. Possibly she is living -still at eighty-two.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During these eight years, Lucy's health, after some -fluctuations, had decidedly improved; and when her -husband was preparing to return in the autumn of -1907 for his final round-up of the Happy Valley -Concession, she insisted on accompanying him. It would -be for less than two years; Maud was coming too; -and the children would be most of their time at school. -Rather with misgivings Roger agreed. Provided she -kept her health, it would indeed be a delightful -conclusion to the great adventure of their lives. They -would revel for the last time in the beauty of Iraku -and the Happy Valley, their Crowned cranes and -pea-fowl, their tame gazelles and duikers, their quaint -menagerie of monkeys; their wonderful flower -garden—Iraku grew everything: orchids and mignonette, -roses and lilies, petunias and pelargoniums, </span><em class="italics">Strelitsia -reginae</em><span> and </span><em class="italics">Disa uniflora</em><span>.... He would wind up his -financial connexion with the Concession and retire from -it a rich man, perhaps retaining a sleeping partnership -in its concerns: for it was entangled with his heart-strings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, all clear for Europe, after a cycle of Cathay. -They would motor from Iraku to the nearest railway -station on one or other of the lines that now penetrated -the interior, secure the best cabins on the luxurious -steamers of the D.O.A. line, and thus retrace the route -of their first voyage, when love was incipient, but when -their future seemed dark and uncertain. They would -be lovers again on this voyage, but this time open and -unashamed, and Maud should pretend to play the part -of a green-eyed Mrs. Bazzard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The first portion of this pleasant programme was -fulfilled. For a year Roger rode from factory to mine, -from coffee plantation to the fields and sheds where -pineapples were grown, cut, and canned. He made -good suggestions about their cattle, about war, -unceasing war on the tse-tse fly, which—it was -feared—was entering the Valley. He viewed with satisfaction -his success over the crossing of Maskat donkey and -Basuto pony mares with zebra stallions, and considered -it proved that the resulting mules might become a -valuable factor in East African transport. He inspected -the new ostrich farms, the new smelting works and the -primitive ceramics where native women turned out -excellent pottery for home use. He decided that -further explorations for gold should be undertaken in -Ilamba, and that a fresh reef should be opened up in -western Iraku. They would waste no more money -looking for the matrix of the diamonds—diamonds -might go hang, there were plenty of them in German -South-West Africa.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But this wolframite with its product tungsten: </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> -was worth following up with persistence. It was more -and more needed for the application of electricity and -for the latest developments of metallurgy, and would -alone make the Concession of great monetary value.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the beginning of 1909 a cloud came over their -happiness, contentment, and sense of security in the -future. In the first place the Austrian annexation of -Bosnia and its accompanying defiance of Russia by the -shining-armoured Kaiser had inspired British statesmen -with hand-in-the-breast-of-the-frock-coat speeches -of the Pecksniffian brand; the harder to bear since we -were engaged about that time in pushing Turkey out -of Arabia and manipulating the partition of Persia. -This, once again, soured the relations between -Englishmen and Germans. Then, the value of the Happy -Valley Concession, insisted on by Roger in his despatches -to the Directorate in Leipzig, had reached the comprehension -of the All-Highest and of the Imperial Cabinet. -To these august personages it seemed incongruous and -detrimental to German all-self-sufficiency that such an -important portion of Germany's most important colony -should be managed by an Englishman, and that an -English Industrial Mission should contain a female of such -measureless audacity as a certain "Ann Anderson" -who had dared to write a letter to the All-Highest, -complaining of sexual licence on the part of Germans in -East Africa. Let there be an end of this! The -Englishman must go, the Industrial Mission must be -replaced by some subservient Roman Catholic teaching -fraternity from the Rhineland, which would attend to -its prescribed functions of instructing the Negroes how -to use their hands and in a limited degree their brains, -and call nothing German in question, least of all the -policy approved by the Kaiser's Kolonialminister. As -to the Schräders: they meant well: they had tried to -ride the German and the English horses abreast: a -clever circus trick, but one that no longer consorted -with Imperial aims. They were worthy financiers, but -they had become too international, with their offices in -Paris, London, and Johannesburg, as well as in Leipzig -and Berlin....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These august decisions had to be conveyed to Roger -by the greatly disappointed Schräders, who had sought -so perseveringly to co-ordinate the enterprise of the -British Empire with that of Germany and -France—internationalists before the proper time. They knew, -of course, that Major Brentham purposed resigning -his local Direction of the Concession in 1909, but they -had half hoped he might have continued in Europe -much the same function as a member of the Board. -As it was, they had to ask him to go, instead of -acquiescing reluctantly in his departure. And quite -decidedly they had to request that all relations between the -Concession and the Stott Mission be severed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the Imperial authority in East Africa the -Ewart Stotts received the curt order to wind up the -affairs of their mission and hand over their buildings -and plantations to the Brotherhood of the Heliger -Jesu of Bingen-am-Rhein. They would be paid -compensation for the actual outlay of their own moneys, -and their teachers and subordinates would be granted -the equivalent of a year's salary, at existing rates.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This not-to-be-appealed-against edict caused the -Stotts the acutest sorrow and dismay; and Ann -Anderson the most unbridled anger. Roger, however, -counselled resignation and moderation of utterance. -Let them take the compensation, get all they could -out of the Imperial authorities, and migrate to -neighbouring British territories, if they were still keen on -Mission work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"After all," he said, "I am going too, and you must -feel, even if Hildebrandt is to succeed me, it would be -difficult for you to remain here without my backing. -Hildebrandt—and you all say you like his wife and -that she is in sympathy with you—promises me that -if he does succeed as Manager, he will do all he can for -the natives and endeavour to get your policy continued -by the Catholic teachers.... Go home and have a -good rest. Go to England and take stock of what -people are saying and doing. Get Ann to take lodgings -for you somewhere in Berkshire ... see the </span><em class="italics">best</em><span> of -England.... </span><em class="italics">Then</em><span>, if you decide to come back to -East Africa you could start another Industrial Mission -on British territory among the Masai and the Nandi -who would seem much the same as the people you are -now leaving...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann, however, made her departure sensational. -After handing over the keys of Mwada Station to the -Catholic Mission she marched out to the centre of the -market-place, on a hillock overlooking the lake; and -in the presence of a large crowd of Masai and -Wambugwe she solemnly cursed the Kaiser in Masai, -Kimbugwe and English. It took more than nine years for -the curse in full measure to take effect; but then the -Kaiser was a much more important personage in the -history of Africa than the occupant of the Red Crater, -and the Devil no doubt fought far harder to save him.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In the spring of 1909 Lucy was again attacked by -pernicious anæmia, and Dr. Wiese's remedies failed -this time to arrest its encroachments. "There is only -one thing," he said, melancholy with foreboding at the -departure of his English friends—"only one thing to -save Mrs. Brentham from dying, and that is to send -her quickly out of Africa on to a home-going steamer. -The sea air may stimulate the recovery of the blood -and help her to regain strength."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger therefore hurried through his preparations -for handing over his work to Hildebrandt. It was -thought better that with them should go the two -Australians, so that the staff might be entirely German. -Maud superintended the packing of their personal -effects. Roger decided, partly out of liking for the -Hildebrandts, partly from a horror he had of stripping -the home where he and Lucy and Maud had been so -happy, to present the Hildebrandts with its furniture -and garnishings, and to take away as little luggage as -possible. He did this almost with a kind of foreseeing -that he might some day return. Maud felt very much -parting with the Crowned cranes. Together with -pea-fowl they are the most intelligent, inquisitive, -well-mannered pets that the bird-world can produce.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The journey to the coast port where the steamer -would call was accomplished in a motor ride of three -days. Even to the dying and little-regarding Lucy this -was in striking contrast to the three-weeks to -four-weeks' journey up-country in her novitiate; with its -crushing fatigues, discomforts and frequent dangers. -No more skulls and skeletons of recent raids, no more -intrusive lions, no need to fall among soldier ants, no -water famines and atrocious smells; no tedious waiting -in hot sun or drenching rain, while an unstable tent -was being fumblingly put up and a camp bed put -together. When the motor halted for the night Lucy -was transferred by kind hands, as in a dream to a -clean, sweet, cool couch in a decent bedroom. When -it was morning, after a breakfast she scarcely seemed -to taste, she was placed in a flying-bed—as the motor -seemed—and so the dream journey went on till she -was aware of being in a boat and then hoisted up into -the air in a bed, and finally put to rest in a cool cabin. -Dream figures would pass through this half-real -environment. John Baines seemed sometimes to stand -by her bed or help her into the motor; Maud became -confused with Ann, but surely a much gentler Ann? -There was Brother Bayley, looking for her to read -slowly through the Book of Exodus, so that he might -translate it, phrase after phrase, into Kagulu....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once on the great steamer of the Deutsch -Ostafrikansche Linie there seemed a ray of hope. They -had deck cabins allotted to them. Two German Staff -officers pretended they were </span><em class="italics">just</em><span> as comfortable on the -tier below, and it would be a </span><em class="italics">pleasure</em><span> to help in -Mrs. Brentham's recovery. She was quite a personage in -the history of East Africa.... The steamer's -captain, himself a married man, was kindness embodied. -He broke through any regulations there might be to -the contrary and had a section of the deck screened -off opposite their cabins, so that no other passengers -might pass through this open-air, shaded parlour in -which the sick woman lay on a couch in a half-dream, -even in a happy dream. Her day-bed or couch was -screwed to the deck so that it would not be jarred or -dislodged by movements of the vessel. Here she could -lie all day or all night; her husband and her -sister-in-law—such a formal term should not have been -applied to Maud, she said; "sister in very truth"—could -take their meal alongside where she lay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At Unguja there came on board the new British -Agent, Sir Edward Walrond, of the Foreign Office, to -take farewell of Brentham since the latter could not -leave his wife. He seemed to pass in and out of Lucy's -dream—-a pleasantly cynical person who only -expressed sympathy with Roger by a hand-grip and -laughed away the idea of Mrs. Brentham not being able -to land at Naples and see the sights there, "with Ted -Parsons to take you round—he is becoming </span><em class="italics">very</em><span> -Pompeian in manner, I'm told." ... Walrond sends on -board all the fruit and delicacies he can think of, which -might tempt Mrs. Brentham's appetite.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Archdeacon Gravening, who married her to John and -then to Roger, comes off to see her. He is quite the -old man now, the veteran of the Anglican Mission -always there whatever Missionary Bishops come and go, -always writing down Bantu languages, always trying -to kill some secret sorrow of his own. He is alone -with Lucy, kneels down for a few minutes by her -day-bed, takes her hand, prays silently, says aloud: "My -poor, poor child: I pray with all my heart you may -surmount this weakness and live to be loved by your -children. Think sometimes, when you are well and -happy in England, of the lonely old man who married -you to your good husband. I always said Brentham -had done the right thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he lays some flowers between her hands that -the Anglican Sisters have sent her. Lucy in her dream -thinks they are marrying her again to Roger, and -laughs at the absurdity of their not knowing she has -been his faithful wife for—for—it is all so -confusing—oh, ever so many years....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Out in the open sea, the fresh boisterous air of he -monsoon gives a flickering stimulation to the enfeebled -brain and body, even causes a certain irritability and -impatience, rare to her gentleness. "Roger! </span><em class="italics">Can't</em><span> -they take me </span><em class="italics">quickly</em><span> home? Can't they make the ship -go faster?..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My darling, she is going at a splendid rate; we -shall be at Aden in four days. Aden! You remember -Aden? Where we took Emilia Bazzard with us to -spend that day, and saw the cisterns? I want you to -get </span><em class="italics">ever</em><span> so much better in those four days, because I -must leave you then...." Hastens to add, as her -hold on his hand tightens: "Oh, only for a couple of -hours whilst Maud takes my place, because I want to -pay off our four Somalis on shore. If I gave them all -their money on the ship they might gamble it away or -have it stolen. You remember the Somalis? Our old -faithfuls—been with us for—what is it? Eighteen -years. Wonderful! They travelled down with us -from Magara—often carried you out of the motor -or into the boat. Every day they come for your news."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she is not listening.... "Roger!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, dear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't want to get off at Naples, and I don't want -you or Maud to leave me at Naples: I want to go </span><em class="italics">on</em><span> -and on in this steamer till we reach England.... -And, Roger! If I die before we get there, </span><em class="italics">don't</em><span> -throw me into the sea as they generally do with people -who die on ... board ... ship ... take me on -with you to England ... take me home, won't you? -Then I shan't mind dying. We've all got to die some -day ... that's what makes it all so sad.... I can't -believe there can come an end to love, not love like -mine for you; but it's horrible to think of lying at the -bottom of the sea, and you perhaps in a grave on -shore...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mustn't talk like this or you'll break my heart -... but if it eases your mind, I promise you that you -shall be taken home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then comes Maud—with the ship's doctor—and -a hospital nurse, always carried on board for such -cases. There is going to be transfusion of blood, and -Roger bares his arm....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A pause afterwards and she sleeps, sleeps and wakes, -dreams she is with her children and they only call her -"Aunt Sibyl," dreams she is once more at Mr. Callaway's, -waiting to know if Roger is going to marry -her.... Mr. Callaway? Didn't she overhear Roger -asking after him from some one who came on board, -and didn't they reply "Died of blackwater fever, years -ago"? We must all die sooner or later, but oh, why -might it not be later in her case? So much to live for!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She is awake again, looking at the brilliant sunlight -on the dancing waves and the flying fish that rise in -mechanical parabolas of flight that become monotonous. -Some form is presently standing between her and this -effulgence of sun on water.... It is the ship's -captain, a big burly man with a close-clipped, russet beard -and kind blue eyes. "</span><em class="italics">Zô</em><span>," he says, with a mixture of -gravity and lightness, "that is bet-ter, </span><em class="italics">moch</em><span> bet-ter. A -... leetle ... colour ... now ... in ... the -... cheeks...." But his well-meant encouragement -trails away into pitiful silence before her ethereal -beauty and other-worldliness. Tired middle age has -passed from her face with this infusion of Roger's -blood. "What a pretty woman she must have been at -one time!" he says to himself. His blue eyes fill with -tears, and he turns away thanking his German God that -his own Frau is not in the least likely to die of -anæmia....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The heat and airlessness of the Red Sea bring back -a lowering of vitality.... The poor sick brain, -insufficiently supplied with red blood, even inspires a -peevish tone in the dying woman. "Oh, Roger! I've -spoilt your life! You only married me 'to do the -right thing'! I ought to have refused.... I broke -your career," she wailed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Lucy</em><span>! How can you say such cruel things. -Here, drink this. This'll put life and sense into you. -Haven't I told you, </span><em class="italics">over and over again</em><span>—Aren't your -children a testimony to our love? But there! It's -cruel to argue with an invalid. I shall send Maud to -talk sense to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, stay with me. I want to be with you every -minute of the life that remains to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They pass through the Suez Canal, but she is -insensible mostly now to changes of scenery or to noises, -or to anything but the absence of Roger from her side. -The fresh breezes of the Mediterranean cause a -revival of mentality. "My poor Roger," she says one -day when the snow peaks of Crete give hope of an -approaching Europe, "</span><em class="italics">how</em><span> grey you have grown! I -never noticed it before. Greyer than you ought to be -at your age." And she caresses his hair with an -emaciated hand....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell Maud—I never see her now, </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> are with me -always, but tell Maud I love her better than any one in -the world, except you. Better than my children. -</span><em class="italics">They</em><span> won't miss me. Africa has always come between -us. Still, all the same I send my thanks to Sibyl -... and poor mother.... And tell Mrs. Baines I thought -kindly of her ... I was to blame.... But -something tells me John has long since understood and -forgiven....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And, Roger? Are you there?" ...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Always here, darling." ...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do something for the Miss Calthorps—you know—where -I was at school. Some one told me they were -in poor circumstances. They must be quite old now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They shall be seen to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ship passed through the Straits of Messina. -Etna behind them on the south-west, with its coronet -of snow. Far away to the north-west was the chain of -the Lipari Islands, blue pyramids with spectacular -columns of yellow-purple smoke issuing from their -craters against the approaching sunset. The Tyrrhenian -Sea was incarnadine under the level rays of the sinking -sun. To the east rose the green and furrowed heights -of Aspromonte, green-gold and violet in the light of -the sunset, dotted, especially along the sea-base, with -pink-white houses and churches with their campanili-like -pink fingers pointing upwards. Lucy's eyes gazed -their last on this splendid spectacle of earthly beauty. -Roger, still holding her hand, lay half across her bed, -more haggard than she, unshaven, hollow-cheeked, -emaciated with futile blood-letting, worn out with want -of sleep and no appetite for eating, and the long vigil -over his dying wife. He slept now, soundly. Her -eyes gazed at his closed eyelids for one moment; then -motion and life passed from them.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was always Maud's function in this sad world to -attend to the plain matters of business whilst others -gave way to a grief that knew no solace, or a joy that -spurned formalities. So it was she who left the ship -at Naples, called on Roger's old friend, Ted Parsons, -the Consul-General, sent telegrams in all the necessary -directions, and fulfilled all necessary forms and -ceremonies. Whether it was an unusual concession or not, -it was at once agreed that the body of Mrs. Brentham, -enclosed in a "shell"—they obtained what was -necessary from Naples—should be carried on with her -grief-distraught husband and her husband's sister to -Southampton. There all three of them were landed, -and thence they proceeded in a very humdrum way by -South-Western and Great-Western railways to -Reading, where the two live ones put up at an hotel so -commonplace and out of date that it momentarily wiped -up sentiment and froze the tears in their tear-glands; -while poor Lucy's remains were temporarily lodged in -a kind of </span><em class="italics">Chapelle ardente</em><span> used by the chief -undertaker, who did things in style. No sign of life from -Sibyl. Evidently there was no one at home at -Engledene. Lucy's parents and Lucy's children were -communicated with, and in due course the funeral took -place at Aldermaston. Roger even sent word of -it—remembering Lucy's message—to Mrs. Baines at -Theale; and to the intense surprise of every one in the -neighbourhood Mrs. Baines stalked into the church and -churchyard, attended the burial, and then strode away -to the station, and so back to Theale, refusing -hospitality at Church Farm by a simple shake of the gaunt -grey head, down the cheeks of which, however, a tear -or two had trickled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lucy came to rest at last in the churchyard of -Aldermaston, under the boughs of one of those superb blue -cedars of the Park which lean out over the walls of -mellow brick. She had so admired these cedars in her -dawning sense of beauty when she taught in the -neighbouring school; and when she was wont to pace up -and down the Mortimer Road considering whether or -not she should go out to Africa to marry John Baines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-end-of-sibyl"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE END OF SIBYL</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>For three weeks after Lucy's burial, Roger scarcely -knew what he did or whom he saw. His boys and -girls went back to school and college; Maud busied -herself in reconnoitring for a home, some place not too -expensive to keep up, where the children might come in -school holidays, where Roger might find rest, -isolation, the healing power of country life when he was -wearied with towns and travel. She designed to -acquire for him and her the old Vicarage at Farleigh -Wallop. The Vicar who had succeeded their father, -instead of being an archæologist, to whom present-day -life was a wearisome fact that must obtrude itself as -little as possible on his studies, liked to reside where -the population was thickest. Of the two villages, -therefore, within his cure of souls he chose Cliddesden for -his residence as being the more populous, and let the -vicarage at Farleigh whenever he could find a tenant. -This of course was the old home of the Brenthams and -the place where Maud had lived up to the time of her -father's death. She had no inquiries to make as to -drainage or water. She knew its charms and its weaknesses; -and finding it untenanted she soon concluded an -agreement with the Vicar to take it on a reasonable rent -and with some security of tenure. To live there once -more would be for her and Roger—and for Maurice -too, and Geoffrey when he chose to come and see -them—a pleasant linking-up of past with present.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meantime, Roger returned from three weeks of aimless -wanderings on a bicycle or in a motor, and from -visits to bankers, tailors, and the Foreign Office in -London, to spend a few days with Maurice at Englefield Lodge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The first question he put to his brother was, "Where -</span><em class="italics">on earth</em><span> is Sibyl?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Maurice</em><span>: "I didn't like to tell you before, Sibyl is -rather under the weather, as Geoffrey would say. -Silchester—Clithy, as she always will call him—came of -age last year, as you know. Sibyl seemed a bit off -colour then, and began really to look somewhere near -her age—at last. But she carried off things well. -Gave fêtes on all the different properties and attended -most of them.... Gave political dinner parties in -London to introduce her son to such great pots as she -could get to come to them, before he took his seat in -the House of Lords. She was present at the Trustees' -meetings to give an account of her stewardship. They -congratulated her—and me—and you, in retrospect—on -the way in which the Estate had been managed -during the long minority; and told Master Clithy he -was remarkably lucky to have such a mother and such -Agents. He took it all with a certain amount of -pompous acquiescence.... He has grown into an -awful prig, you will find, and thinks a tremendous lot -of himself. Whether I shall stay on with him I hardly -know. I've saved a bit, haven't spent any of my share -in Dad's money, and I could always go back to the -Bar. P'raps if you returned to Africa I'd go with you -if you'd let me? I'm rather fed up with England and -office work....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"However, about Sib.... She came down here -last summer and </span><em class="italics">didn't</em><span> have a house party. Lived -quite alone with your kids. They've come to look upon -Engledene as quite their home. Of course, when she -couldn't put 'em up I had them here. Well, as I say, -she seemed 'under the weather.' Once or twice when -I rather bounced in on Estate business, I thought she'd -been crying. Wasn't my business to ask what for. -She wasn't an easy person to question and could lay -you out with her tongue if you seemed to be meddling -with what didn't concern you. Then all at once last -October I had a note from her to say that she had -gone into a nursing home to have an operation, that I -wasn't to fuss about it or come to inquire, that if she -was away at Christmas time your children were to come -here from school just the same and I was to represent -her as host...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "What was the operation for? All this is -news to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Maurice</em><span>: "So I guessed. She made me promise -not to write and tell you or Lucy ... said it would be -all over, long before you were back, and turn out to be -a fuss about nothing. As to what it </span><em class="italics">was</em><span>, why I -suppose she had reached a certain stage in life when most -women have complications and ten per cent. of 'em are -operated on—glands, cysts, tumours....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The operation took place—she was jolly careful -to keep it out of the papers—I doubt if even Clithy -knew anything till it was well over. He was travelling -in Russia to study the Russian theatres and their -arrangements about scenery.... After she recovered -the doctors sent her to Aix and then to St. Tropez on -the Riviera.... Clithy joined her there. I sent her -the telegram about ... about ... Lucy's death. I -dare say you noticed the perfectly magnificent wreaths -they both sent for the funeral. Clithy's came down -from some place in Regent Street and had a card on it -'To my dear Aunt Lucy.' ... Only human touch -about him ... awfully fond of your wife ... always -said he liked her much more than his mother.... -But he needn't have said it so often, though Sibyl -only used to laugh. Her wreath was made here from -the very best things we had got in the hot-houses -... only because Sibyl wrote that Lucy so loved to walk -in these houses and fancy she was back in Africa.... -However, I had a letter from her three days ago...." -(Takes it out and reads: "Tell Roger not to dream -of coming out here, because I am just going away. I -am writing him in a few days.") "There! Now -she'll soon tell you everything about herself...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What about </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>? Have you made any plans as yet?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "Lucy's death has cut my life in two; I -shall have to alter all the programme we used, to plan -out together, she and I and Maud. Of course there -are the children to think about.... Where are the -matches? I'll light a pipe and tell you my ideas...." -(A silence ... puffs ...) ... "I've not done -badly out of this Happy Valley Concession. I've sold -my shares in it—all but five hundred, kept </span><em class="italics">them</em><span> just -to retain an interest, don't you know, get the Company's -reports from time to time—I've sold my shares at -two pounds a share to the Schräders' group. That -brings me in close upon £75,000. I haven't saved -much besides ... purposely lived well out there and -entertained a good deal, and gave ... Lucy ... and -Maud all they wanted, and had to pay for the little -'uns' schooling at home. However, there I am at this -moment with about £75,000 at my bank on deposit and -twelve hundred or so outstanding to my current -account.... I'm going first of all to give ten thousand -pounds </span><em class="italics">down</em><span> to Maud. I consider she has </span><em class="italics">earned</em><span> it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And then I must make a new will ... and I want -to ask you, old chap, to be one of the executors. Will -you? And p'raps Geoff the other. After all, it isn't -Geoff we dislike, it's that confounded, pious doe-rabbit -of a wife of his. However....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well then, about my plans. I suppose I ought to -stay at home at Farleigh—I shall look out for a decent -flat in London—and get to know my children. -Somehow it's </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> I can't take to. They have grown up so -outside all my thoughts and schemes and interests. -They don't care a hang about Africa. John has been -making a young fool of himself at Sandhurst ... been -betting and borrowing and getting into debt. I'm -glad his mother didn't know.... Well, I shall square -up all that, but I shall insist on his going in for the -Indian Army—Staff Corps—same as I did.... A -man if he's got ability couldn't have a better -education.... He's a good-looking boy, John—I expect -he thinks me an old fogey from the backwoods.... -India's the school for him. And as to Ambrose, he -must go to Cambridge, when he leaves Harrow, and -I shall try and get him a nomination for the Consular -Service.... That's the other good school for a -British citizen. You'll think me jolly conceited, just -because those are the two careers </span><em class="italics">I've</em><span> followed. -But..." (smokes and puffs).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well then, there are the two girls. Fat Maud—she -was furious because I revived the old name—says -long ago 'Aunt Sibyl' agreed it should be -compromised by her being called Fatima.... Fatima, I -gather, is eighteen, and young Sibyl is fourteen.... -For the present Maud will look after them, and I shall -have 'em up to London every now and then for a few -weeks. In course of time I suppose they'll want to be -presented. Dare say old Sibyl will do that, or if she's -away, Lady Dewburn. By the bye, </span><em class="italics">she</em><span> wrote me an -awfully sweet letter about Lucy..." (ponders and -smokes).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In due time the girls'll marry, and if they pick up -the right kind of husband I shall give 'em each a -portion of my ill-gotten wealth. There! That's what -I've planned out, and I dare say it 'ud ha' been quite -different if my darling Luce had lived. I should have -been reconciled then to settling down at home. As it -is—I shall travel a bit—Go to Germany and try to -find out what the Germans are up to.... Go back to -Africa p'raps ... </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> don't know...."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A few days after this conversation, Roger received -a letter from Sibyl:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils ncindent"> -<dt><span>Villa les Pins,</span></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt><span>Grimaud, près St. Tropez,</span></dt> -<dd><dl class="docutils first last"> -<dt><span>Var,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last pfirst"><span>June 12, 1909.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAR ROGER,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maurice will have given you all the news there is -about me, except what I am going to add in this letter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I am not going to attempt any sympathy at present -over your loss. Maud's telegram from Naples was -forwarded on to me here and it gave me a horrid turn. -I often used to tease Lucy: I am cat-scratchy to every -one, I fear. Why? </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> don't know: something to do -with my internal organs, I dare say. But I became -sincerely fond of her, after being perfectly horrid to -her when we first met. She seemed to grow on one. -I should have liked her always to stay at Englefield.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Heigh ho! I am very much inclined to whimper -about myself. I have, been through a </span><em class="italics">ghastly</em><span> time.... -Some day, if I live, I will tell you. Meantime, -though I am </span><em class="italics">aching</em><span> to see you I am going to postpone -that happiness, and instead am going round the world -with Vicky Masham.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The doctors seem to think—I dare say it is only -because they have nothing else to suggest—that if I -went on a long sea voyage for about a year—I mean, -kept constantly travelling on the sea—I should get -quite strong again. Perhaps I shall. I want to give -myself every chance—it seems </span><em class="italics">so stupid</em><span> to die before -you're seventy. Also it occurred to me the other day -that for a woman to have raved for twenty years about -the British Empire and yet never to have seen any part -of it outside Great Britain, except Cape Town and -Stellenbosch, and once when we went to Jersey from -Dinant—was rather silly. So Vicky and I are starting -from Marseilles next Sunday in a P. and O., bound -for Ceylon, and after that Japan. Not that Japan is -British—I believe—but of course we aren't going to -be pedantic. Then I suppose we shall "do" Australia -and New Zealand—only I'm afraid New Zealand is -rather muttony, isn't it? Excessively worthy and all -that, but lives chiefly on mutton and stewed tea. -However, there are geysers and pink terraces, if you look -for them. Then there will be a lovely cruise across -the Pacific, and beach-combers and impossibly large -oysters that would dine a family of six, and brown -people with no morals and beautiful sinuous forms, and -finally San Francisco and California. After -that—however, sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. -Vicky or I will bombard you with picture post-cards -recording our progress, and when—and when I'm -</span><em class="italics">quite</em><span> well and look less like a doomed woman—I will -let you know, and, dearest Roger, we will pass the rest -of our lives together, or at least not far away from one -another. Your children shall be the children of my -old age....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Clithy is here, but as soon as I leave for Marseilles he -is off again to Russia. He has promised me to look -you up when he returns. You will find him now definitely -fixed as to appearance. People of his stamp are -like that. Between nineteen and twenty-one, they quite -quickly assume the figure, face, style by which they are -ever after going to be known. He will remind you -most of Lord R——, though I assure you there is no -innuendo in this. I dare say the L——'s are distant -cousins of the Mallards. But Clithy is essentially the -aristocratic young peer who may be a fount of wisdom -or a hollow fraud with nothing inside an -irreproachable exterior. He is a mystery to me. And I am of -little interest to him. The only woman I ever heard -him mention with anything like a kind look in his eyes -was Lucy. The Anne of Denmark nose is still there, -undulating and with a bump in the middle; but the rest -of the face has grown up more and his hair is a nice -dark chestnut brown.—Well, you will see him later, so -why waste time in describing him?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As to Vicky Masham.... Of course you want to -know why, etc.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Well: Vicky, at the death of her patron saint, -Victoria the Good, was left with little more than her -pension of £500 a year. She ought to have had ten -thousand pounds of her own, but—I dare say you saw the -scandal in the papers? She and her sisters gave up -much of their means to save their shockingly bad -brother from going to prison over some swindle that -... Again why waste words? Maurice could tell you -all about it. Well, when I came to the South of France -after Aix, last December, I was </span><em class="italics">dreadfully</em><span> hipped, -fighting a certain Terror—a much </span><em class="italics">worse</em><span> terror than -the one you used to write to me about who lived in a -Red Crater (rather a distinguished address: "The -Red Crater, Iraku"), and who went to Hell by the -direct route. I came to Monte Carlo amongst other -places and thought if I kept on a veil and wore blue -glasses no one would recognize me. In the Rooms I -saw Victoria Masham, looking very melancholy—and -oh, so old—and quite alone. My heart was touched, -I spoke to her and we went to sit on the terrace. I -told her my troubles and she told me hers. Result: -I struck a bargain. She is to live with me till we have -our first quarrel; I am to board her, lodge her, wash -her, pay all possible expenses, and give her a little -pocket money, over and above. And d'you know, I -think it's going to be quite a success! We haven't had -a quarrel yet! I've had her teeth beautifully done by -an American dentist at Cannes, so my nickname only -applies a little—he was too clever not to give the new -set a soupçon of horsiness. And I've made her buy -a quite wonderful "transformation"—chez -Nicole—reddish-brown, streaked with grey.—You'd never -guess. She has plumped out a good deal, for although -I've a wretched appetite myself I keep a good table, -and upon my word when we get to the Colonies I -shouldn't wonder if she had shoals of proposals. She -never talks about anything but Queen Victoria, but I -find that—somehow—awfully soothing—takes me -back to the happy old time when I was a care-free girl, -proud of my secret engagement to you.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">Dear</em><span> Roger. I have lost </span><em class="italics">all</em><span> my good looks. That's -why I don't want you to see me till I recover them—a -little. Meantime, dearest of friends and cousins, if -you believe in </span><em class="italics">Anything</em><span> with a power to save—alas! -</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> don't—pray to it to save me from this terror that -hangs over me—especially in the silent watches of the -night—and bring me back safe from my world-tour, -with at least another ten years of life before me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whilst I am away, remember Engledene is entirely -at your children's disposal. I have written to the -head gardener to see that fresh flowers are sent every -now and again to Lucy's grave. You will tell him -when? Lucy was a </span><em class="italics">real good sort</em><span> and I think she -came to understand me and forgive....</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils ncindent"> -<dt><span>Ever yours,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last pfirst"><span>SIBYL.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Roger spent the remainder of 1909 as he had -planned: looking after his boys and girls to some -extent, trying to get interested in his children. The girls -bored him with their chatter of surface things: school -quarrels and rivalries, school friendships, school -mistresses; their individual tastes in chocolate creams and -caramels; their school sports; the actors whom they -adored—at a distance—and whose photographs they -collected; their disdain for those silly asses the -Suffragettes—</span><em class="italics">they</em><span> themselves would </span><em class="italics">never</em><span> want a vote! -The two boys were not much less shallow with their -Sandhurst and school-boy slang—"top-hole, sir," -"ripping," "ruddy," "rotters," "we rotted 'em a -bit"—their school-boy games of such vast importance; -their dislike of anything sincere, original, -warm-hearted; their rash criticisms of great writers, frantic -admiration for great sportsmen, religious reverence -for cut and colour, style and form; enthusiasm in -general for things that did not matter and contempt for -things that did.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was he like that at their age? Had Sibyl the elder -at sixteen been such a goose as Sibyl the younger? -Was it the hollow falsity of a classical education, the -dreary sham of School Christianity which had made his -boys so cynical, so coarse in their tastes? His -children were good to look at, handsome, healthy, -physically well-bred. But weren't they—weren't their -contemporaries a bit heartless? These in particular had -forgotten their mother completely. Yet surely they -might have remembered Lucy's unceasing tenderness -and the many sacrifices of health and convenience she -had made for them?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the press of that day and in the books and plays -most in vogue you were supposed to make everything -give way to the pleasures, needs, caprices, expectations -of the young, of the coming generation. But why had -no author the courage to point out the lack of interest -which youth under twenty-one possessed for most -persons of matured mind? Girls of eighteen wrote novels -entirely without experience and direct observation of -life, merely based on their wishy-washy recollections -of books written by "grown-ups"; boys of eighteen -published sardonic poems and green-cheese essays for -which they ought to have been birched, not boomed. -How infinitely preferable to Roger, when he put his -secret thoughts into words, was the society of -middle-aged friends and relations of his own period in life, -who really had brain convolutions moulded by sad and -joyous, sharp and unusual experience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aunt Maud said there was something evidently very -wrong with his liver, and his sons and daughters in an -interchange of eye-glances gave a tacit assent. They -had felt (though they had never dared to say so in his -hearing) a tiny bit ashamed of their ineffective mother. -Wasn't it rather </span><em class="italics">infra dig.</em><span> to have been a school-teacher -and a missionary? But of their father they -all stood in awe, because he was considered in his time -a handsome man, was now of distinguished appearance, -and was respected in the best circles as an explorer, a -big-game shot, a naturalist, and a man who had made -some part of Africa pay. But if he stooped to their -level and attempted to justify this eminence by talking -technically on African subjects or on home problems -they soon showed they thought him a bore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Aunt Sibyl they spoke of warmly, and wailed over -the illness which kept her absent from their circle. She -was their ideal of a modern great lady. Her cynical -speeches appealed to their own lack of convictions; -there was nothing "soppy" about Aunt Sibyl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Roger escaped whenever he could from his home -circle and travelled in Germany, France, Holland, -Italy, in order to study the game of foreign politics, -find out why in most people's light-hearted opinion a -great war was "inevitable" as a solution of conflicting -ambitions, and whether it might not be possible to avert -it completely if only Britain, Germany, the United -States and France could form a League for the -maintenance of peace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Schräders made much of him in Germany. -Rather timidly they stood up against Potsdam, tried -to create an opinion in the South German States—their -Alsatian origin carried them in that direction—favourable -to a Naval and Colonial understanding with -Britain. At their instigation Roger gave a series of -addresses in western and southern Germany in 1910 -which were deemed a great success, though they were -rather frowned on in Berlin. He promised to renew -his visit and his lectures in the autumn of 1911.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile, Sibyl had returned to London in the -early autumn of 1910. It was of course the dead -season, but it gradually dawned on Society that she -intended to entertain no more. She was probably going -to write a book about the British Empire; she had -turned quite serious, others said, and was going in for -religion. She had evidently lost her health and—no -doubt—her appearance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger had hastened to greet her in the much shut-up -house in Carlton House Terrace. Here she sat, -generally with her back to the light. He was prepared to -find her greatly altered. What struck him most was -the pathetic thinness of face and hands, and the -shapelessness of the figure. The new fashions in -dress—straight up and down, no waist, one of the greatest -revolutions of our age—helped her here, but at the -expense of womanly charm. For Roger had the -old-fashioned man-mind which has for some twenty -thousand years—did it not begin in Aurignacian -times?—admired the incurve below the well-furnished female -bust and the outcurve from waist to hip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm glad you came so promptly," said Sibyl, -"because I'm turning out of this gloomy mansion and -surrendering it to Clithy. I simply can't afford to keep -it up </span><em class="italics">and</em><span> Engledene too, and although he says of -course he will pay for everything and I can have my -own suite of rooms, I somehow fancy a cosy little flat -which I could share with Maud, or Vicky Masham -when she comes back from the States.... Yes, I left -her at Washington, going to stay at the White House. -I came back alone from there, but I had sulky Sophie -to look after me. One thing that makes me think, -Roger, that I am </span><em class="italics">really</em><span> ill, really doomed, is that -Sophie no longer gives me notice whenever any whim -of mine displeases her. I am sure she is saying to -herself now, 'The poor old gal won't be with us much -longer: better hang on with her and then she may leave -me something.' But about Vicky, for it really is a -good story.... Only first I'm going to—or you -might—ring for tea. Of course you'll stay? You -couldn't in decency refuse.—Do you know, we haven't -set eyes on one another for ... for ... </span><em class="italics">three years</em><span>? -We are both swallowing pungent things we might say -about one another's appearance, and both resolving to -bite our tongues off rather than say them." ... (To -servant: "Tea please; and ask Miss Mills to make -the sandwiches, </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> sandwiches, I mean.") ... "I -have to take these frame-foods in the form of -sandwiches, and Sophie has learnt the art of making them -so seductive that I get them down without any -difficulty....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About Vicky.—Do draw up your chair; you -needn't be so frigid with a moribund friend. Directly -it became known in California that Vicky had been a -maid of honour to the late Queen Victoria, my dear, -the Americans nearly killed us with kindness! Our -roles were reversed. </span><em class="italics">She</em><span> was the lady of distinction -and </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> was her travelling companion. You know the -Americans, especially in the west and east, have a </span><em class="italics">culte</em><span> -for Queen Victoria, and Vicky's stories of her home -life held them spell-bound. She felt in her position it -wouldn't be right to </span><em class="italics">lecture publicly</em><span> on her late -mistress, but the difficulty was got over.—D'you still -drink tea without sugar? I'm told I </span><em class="italics">ought</em><span> to take -it—got over by drawing-room meetings, tickets subscribed -for, and no charge at the door, a sumptuous -tea—supposed to be modelled on the kind of tea the Queen took -at Osborne—served in the middle of Vicky's talk. -She refused to take any direct payment, so they sent -her </span><em class="italics">thumping</em><span> cheques for her travelling expenses. -And now she's going to put her talks on Queen -Victoria as Mother, Wife and Queen into a book.—One -way and another, she'll make five or six thousand -pounds out of the whole business. And I'm </span><em class="italics">jolly</em><span> glad. -It'll be some provision for her real old age, after I'm -gone—for I shan't have much to leave, and most of -that I must give to my sisters in the Colonies and to -your Sibyl, and some of my servants....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now: you've got </span><em class="italics">endless</em><span> things to tell </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>. -Indeed I really can't see why we should be separated, -now, except when we are put to bed. You must be a -mental wreck, and I am a physical one.... I got -frightfully tired in the States—it spoilt much of the -good I derived from the long steamer voyages.... -We are simply two imprisoned souls in very battered -cages. All the gilding is off mine."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Roger saw as much of Lady Silchester as he could -during the last months of 1910. He and Maud assisted -her to find just the right sort of flat, where she would -have no household worries, where, in fact, she need -only keep Sophie to look after her. They all spent a -reasonably merry Christmas at Engledene, where Lord -Silchester joined them, and where Fatima—Maud -junior—expressed and perhaps felt such an intense -interest in his Keltic operas and reforms in stage scenery -that a glint of the match-maker's eagerness came into -Sibyl's tired eyes; she pressed Roger's hand and -murmured, "</span><em class="italics">Wouldn't</em><span> it be </span><em class="italics">too</em><span> delightful...?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During the first half of 1911 the Intelligence -Division of the War Office discovered Major Brentham as a -really great authority on African geography and -African campaigns, and he worked there over maps, and -gave them in addition much other information. As -some return he was gazetted Colonel, and again there -was talk of utilizing such an administrative capacity in -our own dominions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In June, 1911, Sibyl's physician and surgeon were -not altogether satisfied as to her progress towards -recovery, and suggested she might derive great benefit -from the waters of Villette, a thermal station in the -east of France near the Vosges. So she said to Roger: -"</span><em class="italics">You look</em><span> quite as ill as I </span><em class="italics">feel</em><span>. It's malaria. You -never quite got rid of that blackwater fever. Come -to Villette later on. Maud and the girls and Clithy -could join us too. I'll have a month first of all, alone -except for Vicky. I'll give the closest attention to the -cure, and then perhaps when you arrive I may be able -to sit up and take notice and even do a little motoring...."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Accordingly the scene of this dwindling story -changes in Villette-ès-Vosges, a </span><em class="italics">Ville d'eaux</em><span> in eastern -France, in the month of August and September, 1911. -Germany has spoilt the summer for all statesmen, -soldiers and sailors by challenging the French protectorate -of Morocco at Agadir. It is supposed by the middle -of August, after Mr. Lloyd George's speech in the -City, and after a succession of "kraches" in German -banking firms, that the Kaiser's Government is -hesitating to go the full length of War: but Germany is -growling horribly because she is realizing that her -financial arrangements for a war of great dimensions -are imperfect, and that she is unprepared with aircraft -to cope with the French aeroplanes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So she is consenting to </span><em class="italics">pourparlers</em><span> for the purpose -of ascertaining the terms on which she may be bought -off, persuaded to leave Agadir, and withdraw a portion -of the army she is crowding into Alsace-Lorraine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Villette-ès-Vosges is well suited for the work of the -old diplomacy. It is, to begin with, a </span><em class="italics">Ville d'eaux</em><span>; -and in the eighteenth, nineteenth, and early twentieth -centuries, statesmen who were negotiating treaties and -alliances or resolving problems which threatened war, -usually met at some gay place near their frontiers -where they could, under the guise of "taking the -waters," carry on their conversations with one another -and draft protocols of conspiracy or of agreement. -Consequently, in late August and early September, -1911, Villette was unusually thronged: not only by its -accustomed clientèle of middle-aged invalids trying to -combat all manner of diseases for which its springs -were efficacious, but also by their </span><em class="italics">demoiselles-à-marier</em><span>, -their gawky boys and bread-and-butter, pigtailed girls, -playing tennis, croquet, and crowding into the cinemas -while their parents sip and bathe and undergo </span><em class="italics">massage -sous l'eau</em><span>; by wicked gamblers, obvious adventurers, -demure cocottes (needing a month's repose and a -reduction of their figures); and by European statesmen -trying to look like tourists. The German diplomatists -have dressed and hatted themselves to resemble the -Frenchman of caricature; the French ministers and -ex-ministers are out-doing the average English -gentleman in bluff "sports" costumes; and there are -Russians and Austrians too quaint for words, </span><em class="italics">à pouffer de -rire</em><span>, as Sibyl says; with such weeping whiskers, such -forked beards, such frock-coats in the early morning -and such tall hats as you never saw, except in pictures -of Society in Paris under the Second Empire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These diplomatists foregather in the theatrically -beautiful park with its swan-pools, its canalized river, -its groves and bosquets, pavilions, tea-houses, -summer-houses, chalets, kiosques of newspapers and salacious -novels, open-air orchestras, croquet-lawns, and -tennis-courts. Or if the problem is very grave, and excited -speech should not be audible nor gesticulations visible -to prowling journalists, they stroll away to the -race-course, to the golf links.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is the glorious summer of 1911, when there was -little rain between the beginning of June and the end -of September. Nevertheless, if you should weary of -the heat or if there should be a sudden shower you have -a long cool arcade of tempting shops, a Grand Guignol, -and the necessary retreats—on a large scale—for -those who are summarily affected by the cathartic action -of the waters, especially that very potent </span><em class="italics">Source Salée</em><span>, -which is never mentioned without respect, except where -it is the foundation of Rabelaisian stories. The -medicinal springs are housed in temples of great -architectural beauty. The town of pleasure, with its eight -or nine hotels, rises in terraces that survey the -park—not long ago a forest in which wolves roamed in winter -time. New Villette contains a theatre, a </span><em class="italics">Club des -Étrangers</em><span> with gambling rooms, a </span><em class="italics">Salle de lecture</em><span>, a -Concert Hall, an </span><em class="italics">Église Anglicane</em><span>, and a Catholic -church, a post-office, doctors' houses and laboratories, -and the necessary </span><em class="italics">usines</em><span> and </span><em class="italics">garages</em><span>. A mile away is -the real Villette, a common-place Lorraine town of -purely agricultural interests, turning its back, so to -speak, on the adjoining health resort which has made -its name famous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the arcade is a large black notice-board, whereon -besides local notices are pinned the </span><em class="italics">Havas</em><span> telegrams. -Hither, during one critical week, comes a throng of -anxious readers. </span><em class="italics">Is it to be peace or War</em><span>? Will -Germany be satisfied with French Congo and give up -Morocco? Should we pack to-night and leave before -Mother has completed her cure, </span><em class="italics">in case</em><span> mobilization -upsets the trains? Will my husband be called up? -</span><em class="italics">What</em><span> will happen to my boy?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sibyl, lying on her comfortably-sloped invalid chair -in the verandah of the Pavilion des Déjeuners, opines -the Germans must be </span><em class="italics">perfect beasts</em><span> to upset every one -like this, and all over some place on the Sahara coast -where there are just a few verminous Moors. She is -not in favour of anarchism, but she really </span><em class="italics">does</em><span> wish -some one would assassinate the Kaiser....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger looks grave and essays the hopeless task of -defending Germany. "It is all this mania for -'Empires across the Seas.' Germany gets mad when our -Empire, the French Empire, the Russian Empire each -year get bigger, while she is prevented everywhere from -expanding——, etc., etc."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Victoria Masham</em><span> hazards the conjecture: "</span><em class="italics">If only</em><span> -the dear Queen were alive! She would soon...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span> interrupts: "My dear Vicky, you must look -facts in the face. Queen Victoria would now be 92. -She would not be of much use at that age ... See! -There is obviously our Foreign Minister ... disguised -with smoked glasses, but you can't mistake his -nose. I think he's </span><em class="italics">so</em><span> good-looking.... And there -is young Hawk of the F.O. He's just been sent to -Brussels. I hear the Villierses are expected -to-morrow. That man in the straw hat and the cricketing -flannels is Monsieur Viviani, and the handsome old lion -with the grey mane is Léon Bourgeois. The -tight-trousered man you'd take for a 'booky' is Count -Palastro—and there's no mistaking that stuffed figure of -the last century, in a stove-pipe hat, a buttoned-up -frock-coat, and pointed whiskers: that's Polánoff of the -Russian Foreign Office. We saw him when we were -in Japan.... 'Whithersoever the carcass is, there -are the eagles gathered together.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "I suppose the carcass is the unhappy -peoples of Europe?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span>: "I suppose so. Vicky, dear. Go and have -breakfast at the hotel this morning. D'you mind? -Maud has taken off the two girls to some violent sports' -competition, and Clithy has motored over to -Domrémy." (To Roger): "He is studying local colour -for the libretto of an opera on Joan of Arc. His -great </span><em class="italics">clou</em><span>—if he can only bring it off—is the last -scene. Joan of Arc, while bound to the stake and -encircled with flames, sings a scena of the fireworks kind. -Clithy says it would be natural under the circumstances. -He thinks if they can devise some kind of asbestos shift -for the prima donna and the usual chemical flames that -don't burn much it could be arranged...." (To -Vicky): "I want Roger all to myself this morning. -We are going to have our breakfast together, here, in -case events call him to sterner duties...." (Vicky -acquiesces with a good grace—in her new transformation -to which a </span><em class="italics">little</em><span> more grey has been added, she -looks surprisingly well, and younger than Sibyl, though -she is ten years older).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A pause. The waiter lays the table between them -for Roger's déjeuner à la fourchette. He is accustomed -to preparing Sibyl's special dietary and arranges -for that also. He is a pleasant-faced man, deeply -deploring "le peu de progrès que fait M'ame la -Baronne...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span>: "What a scene for a dying woman to be -looking at!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "Sibyl! </span><em class="italics">Don't</em><span> be so lugubrious...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span>: "Why? Do you suppose I don't pretty -well know my own condition? I am dying slowly of -cancer, what the doctors call 'un lent dépérissement.' I -expect this is what Mother died of later in life. The -doctors would be ready enough to operate again if -there was any chance.... As it is, they know it is -more merciful to let me linger out my few remaining -weeks or months than submit me to the shock of an -operation which might kill me at once. I </span><em class="italics">may</em><span> live to -October, Dr. Périgord thinks. Or he puts it more -pleasantly: 'Vers le mois d'Octobre nous saurons oui -ou non, si la guérison de M'ame la Baronne s'effectuera. -Les eaux de Villette opèrent parfois des miracles: -espérons toujours.' ... And so on.... I don't -suffer much pain—as yet. When it comes on they'll -put me under morphia. I shall stay here till this -political crisis is over or the fine weather begins to break. -Then Clithy will motor me to Calais and from Dover -to Engledene. Engledene will be the best place to die -at. And, of course, </span><em class="italics">remember</em><span>, I want to be buried at -Aldermaston, near Lucy—and near where you'll be -laid some day—unless you marry again, which I -should hardly think you'll do. I shall have a perfect -right to occupy a small space in Aldermaston -churchyard, because I'm a parishioner. I bought the farm -that father so ridiculously mismanaged and that you -made so prosperous. I've left it in my will to my -brother Gerry, as some compensation for having taken -no notice of him since I got married.... But, as I -said before, </span><em class="italics">what</em><span> a scene! Not even your beloved -Happy Valley could better those flowers in the urns -and vases and borders and parterres—those scarlet -geraniums, scarlet cannas, scarlet salvias, and -scarlety-crimson Lobelia cardinalis. We grow them at -Engledene, but they're nothing like these. </span><em class="italics">And</em><span> the -heliotrope, and ageratum ... and those blue salvias and -orange calceolarias. I know it's rather vulgar, but the -whole effect is superbly staged; don't you think -so?....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the women's dresses. Many of them, of -course, are mannequins, just showing off for the Paris -shops. And then to see pass by all the celebrated if -over-rated people you've heard so much about, just as -though they were well-made-up supers on the stage. -And the music of those alternate orchestras... and -such African sunlight ... and ... </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> next to -me...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "Look here, if you talk so much I shan't -wonder you get weaker instead of stronger. Eat up -your breakfast and drink your milk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span>: "I will. But I </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> talk to you. I shall -soon be silenced for ever...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "So shall </span><em class="italics">I</em><span>, when my time comes. So will -every one. You don't give yourself a chance, talking -in this morbid way. The doctors are often wrong. -Remember the case of Lady Waterford?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span>: "Blanchie?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "Yes.... A good soaking in Villette -water may get rid of all your trouble and some day you -may be weeping over me as I lie dying of Bright's -disease."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span> (not paying much attention): "Roger! Do -you think there is going to be War?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "Not this time. Look there! D'you see -those </span><em class="italics">gardes champêtres</em><span> in that green uniform?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span>: "That nice-looking man, with the blond -moustaches?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "Yes, and that ugly-looking fellow with -the red nose. Well: a week ago they mysteriously -vanished, and I asked what had become of them. I -was told they had joined up ... the Reserve, you -know. Now they're back again. </span><em class="italics">That</em><span> shows the -Germans and French have come to terms. The War is -</span><em class="italics">partie remise</em><span>—this year—but it's certain to come, -unless Germany can be squared. Remains to be seen -what she wants and what we can afford to give...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A pause. Sibyl eats a little food and sips her milk. -Roger finishes his breakfast and lights a cigarette.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span>: "Do you think there can be </span><em class="italics">any</em><span> survival -after death?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "How can </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> tell? Who knows </span><em class="italics">anything</em><span> -about it? Not even Edison or Marconi. And they -come nearest..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Sibyl</em><span>: "I mean, of course, our minds, our -intelligence, our love. Our poor diseased bodies simply -dissolve and are redistributed and worked up again. But -the </span><em class="italics">personality</em><span> we have created in our brains?"... -(takes a cigarette from Roger and smokes it). -"Talking of personality, isn't it </span><em class="italics">extraordinary</em><span> how </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> can -be affected through our stomachs; chemically, so to -speak? You saw that woman in the dark green dress, -who waved to me just now? Recognize her?" (Roger -shakes his head)... "</span><em class="italics">That</em><span> is Cecilia -Bosworth, the Marchioness of Bosworth, quite the proudest -woman in the Three kingdoms—enough in herself to -provoke a middle-class revolution. Her husband's -remote ancestor was a by-blow of the Plantagenets, a -natural son of 'false fleeting Clarence.' He went over -to that usurper—I've always spoken up for Richard -the Third—that </span><em class="italics">usurper</em><span>, Henry the Seventh, at the -battle of Bosworth, and so was created Earl of -Bosworth, and afterwards Elizabeth made his grandson a -marquis. Well, even you, as an African hermit, </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> -have heard of that woman's insolence in Society? She -even mocked at the Royal Family and said her husband—a -perfect oaf—was more Plantadge than they were -and the rightful king.... She wanted Prince Eddy -to marry her daughter and make things come right." (A -pause ... smokes)...</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, when she came here six weeks ago, nobody -was good enough to mix with her; she went round -blighting us all. My doctor said it was all due to -liver and he'd soon cure her. He put her on to </span><em class="italics">La -Source Salée</em><span>—and a slice of melon afterwards. -And, </span><em class="italics">my dear</em><span>, she went through </span><em class="italics">agonies</em><span>, I believe. I -used to hear her </span><em class="italics">shrieking</em><span> as she passed along the -corridor....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it's cured her. See what a pleasant nod she -gave me just now? And there she is, talking to those -very pretty girls—and their father's only a Leeds -manufacturer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, how do you work </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> problem out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Roger</em><span>: "Give it up! ... But by the look in your -eyes, I should say </span><em class="italics">you've</em><span> got the beginning of a -temperature. Let me wheel you back to the Hotel and -call for Sophie. Then if you are good and obedient -and get an after-breakfast nap, I will come at three and -take you and Vicky out for a very gentle motor -drive...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sibyl submits. The waiter assists with the chair till -it is out of the intricacies of the approach to the -Breakfast Pavilion. Roger draws it through the gay throng. -The church bells of all denominations are clanging in -carillons, either because it is Sunday or because -Peace—this time—has been definitely assured by an -exchange of signatures. A few people raise their hats -or wave hands to Sibyl, though she is semi-disguised -in smoked glasses and a diaphanous veil; and numerous -men nod to Colonel Brentham: who, panting, draws -the wheeled chair up to the perron of the hotel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here there is a pause while Sophie is sent for. Then -the disentanglement of the sick woman from the chair -and from shawls, and her slow walk, supported by -Roger and her maid, to the ground floor rooms where -a white-capped nurse receives her.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Roger went to Germany at the end of September, -when Sibyl was being taken back to England by her -son. He spent six weeks lecturing the Germans on the -advisability of joining Britain and France in a -world-wide understanding. His lectures were politely -forbidden on Prussian territory, which made South -Germany all the more eager to hear him. And when he -left for England at the beginning of November, it was -with the assurance that a German representative -deputation would come to England in the spring of 1912 to -promote an Anglo-German understanding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On reaching London, however, he learnt that Sibyl -had died two days previously, at Engledene. In the -last weeks of her agony she had been much under -morphia. Before she reached that stage she had -insisted with Maud and Vicky that Roger was </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> to be -bothered by bad reports of her condition, as he was -engaged in doing what he believed to be the right thing.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="all-ends-in-the-happy-valley"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">ALL ENDS IN THE HAPPY VALLEY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Colonel Brentham's anticipations of the -Millennium to be achieved by the adjustment of -colonial ambitions were not to be realized. On the -28th of June, 1914, the heir to the Austro-Hungarian -throne was assassinated in the Bosnian capital. -Maurice Brentham, meeting his brother the same day -outside the Travellers' Club, asked what he thought of this -bolt from the blue........</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think very badly of it," Roger replied. -"Whether or not the plot was engineered in Servia, it -is clear from the sayings and antics of the Russian -minister in Belgrade that Russia is egging on Servia -against Austria and using her as a mask under which -Russia may place herself athwart German-Austrian -ambitions in the Balkan peninsula, and bar the way to -Constantinople. She is, in fact, challenging directly -the substantial results of our agreements....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well and if she does, what will happen then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Great War we have been striving to avert."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When War was declared on August 4th, Brentham -found himself in the dilemma of many of his -able-bodied, disengaged fellow-countrymen: what service -could he render to the British Empire at this crisis of -its fate? Like most of us he had a strong predilection -as to the kind of service he might best render. In his -case it was to proceed as quickly as possible to East -Africa and watch over the fortunes of the Happy -Valley. John was already in India with his regiment; -Ambrose had best remain at Cambridge unless there -was anything like Universal service; Maud would take -up hospital work and her nieces could help her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He therefore proceeded to offer his services to the -Secretary of State for the Colonies. If Africa could -not be kept out of the War area—as he had at first -hoped—then, if we did not occupy German East -Africa, the Germans would soon proceed to invade our -adjacent possessions: in short, a terrible struggle was -about to take place for supremacy in the Dark -Continent between Britain, France, and Belgium on the one -side and Germany on the other. In such a struggle, -surely his qualities as geographer, linguist, and a -person of great local influence ought to be of value in the -East African campaign?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Colonial Office replied coldly that it had handed -over the whole question of attack and defence in East -Africa to the War Office. To the War Office he -therefore repaired one very warm day at the end of August. -With the greatest difficulty he obtained access to the -Secretary of State for War, then the most powerful -person in the kingdom. He faced those "desert eyes" -like the optics of a harpy eagle, and made a stammering, -voluble proffer of his services, which gradually -slackened under the stare and the silence. When he -paused to invite a reply, the great man interjected: -"How old are you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fifty-six, Sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Much</em><span> too old.... Couldn't stand ... strain -of campaign.... Besides ... all arranged with -Indian War Department.... They mightn't like -their Intelligence Division ... interfered with.... -No doubt contingency long foreseen ... plan of -campaign cut-and-dried.... Sorry.... We must -make use of you elsewhere.... Send you America -... or recruiting, p'raps.... Scotland, Ireland, -Canada. Let you know later.... Good morning...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger, fearful of being caught in the machine as -some little wheel or cog of no importance, lay low, -considered, inquired and made his plans, thinking of -nothing but how to reach and save the Happy Valley. -Passports and visas were still matters of trifling -importance. The direct route to East Africa was closed -to him; fighting had already begun, rather disastrously -for the British. But the Belgians were preparing for -a great war-effort against German East Africa. Roger -made, his way to Antwerp ... saw the Belgian -Minister for the Congo, saw the grave and courteous young -King ... was given permission to accompany the -Belgian forces assembling on Tanganyika....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then: picture him having reached the mouth of the -Congo, late on in 1914 ... a little rusty for this -adventure in Equatorial Africa. No one with him as -assistant, servant, valet. His son John had been as far -back as the preceding July marked down for service -with the first Indian contingent which would in case of -war be dispatched across the Indian Ocean to take part -in the mismanaged attack on Tanga. Can you picture -Brentham in those dreary weeks of waiting at Boma, -the Congo capital—hothouse heat, mosquitoes, sand, -dense forest, rancid smell of palm oil—unutterably -lonely, asking himself torturingly "whether he had -done the right thing"? Ought he not to have stayed -at home, fought in Flanders? Looked after Ambrose, -waited for orders from Lord Kitchener? Was he -absolutely single-minded in his attachment to the Happy -Valley? Had he chosen the right way to get there -quickest?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last they were off up-river to take the train to -Stanley Pool. The Belgian officers with whom he -travelled were one and all nice fellows, </span><em class="italics">bons -compagnons</em><span>, intelligent, respectful of this grave English -colonel's knowledge of Africa; but a little puzzled -</span><em class="italics">quand même</em><span> at his Quixotry, a little reserved. "Il -parait qu'il a vécu longtemps avec les Boches," he -overheard one of them saying in the mess, as he was -sauntering in. It seemed to convey a doubt as to his -good faith.... At Leopoldville, he encountered a -stately-looking Negro in a familiar costume—long -white </span><em class="italics">kanzu</em><span>, small white open-work skull-cap—speaking -in Swahili. With what joy he recognized that once -familiar tongue can only be appreciated by those who -have known the nostalgia of East Africa. He -addressed the man in Kiswahili and was greeted with -respect and interest. A bargain was struck with his -employer, and the man, Omari bin Brahimu, originally a -boy recruit for Stanley, entered Brentham's service, to -accompany him to East Africa. Half the misery of -the adventure was now over. Here was a potential -nurse in sickness, an efficient valet, a packer, steward, -if-need-be cook, gun-bearer, counsellor, interpreter, and -ever present help in trouble....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Colonel Brentham soon showed the Belgians he was -not there as an encumbrance, as a tiresome elderly -guest. His knowledge of Bantu tongues enabled him -to pick up a smattering of Bangala, the </span><em class="italics">lingua franca</em><span> -of the Congolese soldiery. He worked in his shirtsleeves -and in football shorts at every emergency, knew -something about steamer engines, shot for the pot, -drilled recruits, and evidently knew the Germans' -position and resources thoroughly. By the time the -swelling contingent of reinforcements had reached Stanley -Falls he, was voted the nicest Englishman—</span><em class="italics">point de -morgue, simple et instruit, ban garçon jusqu'au bout -des angles</em><span>—they had ever met. Between Stanley -Falls and Tanganyika he was very ill and nearly died -of black-water fever; but pulled through, thanks to -Omari's nursing, and reached Ujiji a yellow spectre, -after the Belgians had in several actions on the lake -and on shore gained possession of Tanganyika. They -had been marvellously helped by a naval contingent -sent out by the British Admiralty through Nyasaland. -It was a joy which conduced to Brentham's recovery -to meet the brave, jolly, resourceful British naval -officers and picked seamen. In some way it righted his -own position. He felt less a lonely Don Quixote, a -solitary specimen of the British allies of Belgium.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The year 1915 had been the nadir of his life. Cut -off from all news—he was not to know for another -year that his sons were both dead, John, shot through -the head in a maize plantation outside Tanga, and -Ambrose, who had enlisted a month after his father's -departure, blown to pieces by a shell at Ypres; not to -know how his sister and his daughters were faring; -whether the British Empire still stood firm, and what -people said or thought about his own disappearance. -He was often sick, tired, lonely, with little to read, -and his thoughts a torture to him; for they dwelt on -the remembering of happier things. He wished at -times he might have in humdrum daily life the delusions -that came to him in dreams or in attacks of fever; -that Lucy was once more by his side, that Sibyl had -sat by him, that Maud or Maurice or Mrs. Stott had -come into his wretched palm-leaf hut.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>From Ujiji to Tabora he fought alongside the -Belgian Negro army, feeling every step he took eastward -more and more at home. He nearly cried with joy at -finding himself once more among the Wanyamwezi and -actually recognizing among those who came forward -to offer their services against the Germans a few of the -men who had been his soldier-porters in bygone days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At Tabora he heard disquieting news about the -Happy Valley. It was reported that the British-Boer -army under General Smuts, which had already taken -the southern slopes of Kilimanjaro from the Germans, -was about to start—had started, in fact—on a bold -diversion. Led by one or two English sportsmen, they -were evidently making for Lake Manyara and the -Happy Valley, with the intention of cutting the -Tanganyika railway in Ugogo and outflanking the German -forces in the coast-belt. It was a bold scheme that -only a great general would have thought of. The -story, he thought, must be true. The stroke was -imposed on our strategy by the geography of the country.....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After days and nights of meditation and many -discussions with Wanyamwezi headmen, guides, and -disarmed Askari (who had transferred their allegiance -from the Germans to the Allies with the greatest -willingness), Brentham sought the general commanding -the Belgian forces at Tabora and expounded his plan -and the reasons for his plan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sanction was obtained. Duly furnished with papers -establishing his identity and his position as an -intelligence officer serving with the Belgian forces, Roger -started at the head of a hundred picked Wanyamwezi, -with as little baggage as possible. He felt now primed -for any hardship, any privation, when a certain -number of days' marching would bring him back "home," -as he instinctively framed it in his mind. Nevertheless, -in case strength should give out he purchased two -donkeys for himself and Omari, who now chiefly filled -the role of cook, and therefore must not be walked off -his legs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then they plunged into the untracked wilderness, the -least known part of German East Africa, between -northern Unyamwezi and the crater region at the head -of Lake Manyara, where the British forces would -probably impinge on the Happy Valley. Oh, that he might -arrive there in time to prevent the accidental or needless -destruction of priceless experimental machinery, and -the outcome of researches undertaken in the general -interests of the world; and intervene possibly between -the harmless, bewildered natives and a soldiery which -might not understand them! At first his caravan -travelled thirty miles a day in a swinging stride through -a cultivated country, a country of good roads, -rest-houses and ordered prosperity. Thence it passed -north-east and east into a trackless, little-populated -region, a no-man's land, illimitable plains and tablelands -of thin grass, dotted at rare intervals with granite -boulders, blocks and upright </span><em class="italics">menhirs</em><span> of naked stone, -as yet the undeciphered hieroglyphics of a chapter in -African geology. The dry watercourses sheltered -clumps of ragged, lank, thin-stemmed Hyphame palms, -and strange-looking euphorbias. The open country -swarmed with game—countless zebras, herds of -yellow hartebeest, red-brown impala, black-belted, -golden-yellow, white-bellied Grant's gazelle, family parties of -twenty or thirty black-and-white and grey ostriches, -blue-grey, black-maned gnus (almost as numerous as -the zebras), and troops of blotched giraffes like -run-away telegraph poles as they fled with uniform trot -before his expedition. Rhinoceroses, larger than any -Roger had ever beheld, charged his caravan, but more -as an idle sport than with malign intent.... "What -a pity," thought Roger, after successful evasions of -these snorting bulks, "we could not domesticate these -monsters and turn their strength to account in warfare? -A rhino cavalry regiment would carry away all the -enemy's wire entanglements and prove as useful as -armoured cars."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Only stopping an hour here and an hour there to -secure meat for his caravan or incidentally to give some -too persistent rhino its quietus, he pressed on til his -expedition entered country covered by his recollections—the -basin of a former vast sheet of water, ancillary, -perhaps, to the Victoria Nyanza, now reduced to the -furrowed courses of half-dry rivers and a long salt -lake, its shores and portions of its surface sparkling -with salt crystals in the sunshine, and its surcharged -waters of salts and sodas in solution, a milky blue. -There were people in this wilderness of broad valleys -and abrupt escarpments, tribes already known to Roger, -primitive Bushman-like folk, speaking languages full -of clicks, going stark naked, without domestic animals -or agriculture, nomad hunters with bows and arrows, -straying from the culture of fifty thousand years ago -into awakened Africa: where white nations were fighting -for predominance with gas and steel, aeroplane and -armoured car.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last he sighted familiar ridges and entered -remembered ravines and noble forests, and followed streams -of fresh, cold water. There were now visible many -signs of the handiwork, the energy of civilized man. -At the same time they encountered the first fugitives -fleeing from Iraku before the coming of a war so -terrible that there was nothing like it in the black man's -legends or imagination: flying rafts in the air hurling -bombs, the bursting of shells, the leaden hail of -machine-gunfire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Brentham's arrival on the scene coincided with some -suspension of hostilities; at any rate, as he hurried -forward through the bungalows, factories, and gardens of -Wilhelmshöhe, he heard no artillery; nothing more -war-like than the occasional popping of a rifle and a -few shouts. The roads, however, were thronged with -fugitives making for the woods, some of whom greeted -him rapturously as the </span><em class="italics">Bwana-mkubwa</em><span> returning to -his kingdom, a god emerging from a machine who -would set everything right. Many of these stopped in -their flight, turned back and followed his men. They -even ran alongside his peevish donkey, regardless of -its kicks, strove to kiss a disengaged hand, called him -by his native names. The pace of the irritated ass -became a trot, a canter, now they were on well-made -roads. Roger glanced from side to side, saw old -buildings he remembered, and new bungalows and -factories he had never seen before. Several were -burning. Negro soldiers in British khaki uniforms were -either attempting to stay the flames or were frankly -pillaging the houses. Several glanced up at him, -irresolute. He seemed a British officer of high rank, -but not of their regiment; a few saluted; a question -put here and there elicited the fact that they -understood Swahili.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From them he gathered that a very large British -force had reached Lake Manyara from the north-east, -from the big snow mountains, guided by several -Englishmen, one of whom was called the "Little Terror" -(Kicho kidogo), who had a small army of his own, -very fierce men, not in uniform, "washenzi wabaya."[#] That -the German men of the Happy Valley had fled -before the English to some great German stronghold -in the south; but that the "Little Terror" had been -told off to search and occupy the country west of the -line of march, and he was now engaged in giving the -"washenzi" punishment.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="ncindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] Wicked savages.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Roger, scarcely halting more than a minute here or -a minute there to glean this information, rode eastward -as rapidly as his tired donkey could be urged to go. -The absolutely familiar scenery was not much altered -for the lapse of seven years. The roads were even -smoother and neater, the hedges of dracæna and -scarlet-flowered Erythrina more luxuriant. There were -brilliant flower-gardens round the bungalows. There -was the Stotts' former Mission station and school. -Beside it was a new chapel of florid Gothic architecture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dr. Wiese's house and laboratory. He paused, got -off the donkey, and entered the front garden. There, -to greet him, was Dr. Wiese himself, lying on his back -on a bed of scarlet geraniums, dead, in a pool of -congealing blood, with a swarm of flies buzzing about his -shattered face. He could see a smashed door, a broken -verandah post, and strewn papers, glass bottles, odds -and ends of things remaining over from a looting of -the house. This was too serious an episode to be -passed by without investigation. Omari had by this -time come up. And not far behind him were the -returning refugees and his caravan of soldier-porters. -He strode up to the dead man. Yes, it was Wiese, the -physician-friend of many years, who had striven so -hard to save Lucy from an insidious disease.... -Shocking ... to see him like this after seven years! -If </span><em class="italics">only</em><span> he had arrived yesterday it might not have -happened. He took the shortest cut over flower-beds, past -broken-into aviaries, trampled botanic gardens with an -infinitude of labels, to the laboratory, whence came a -shouting and quarrelling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In this building there were a few Nyasaland soldiers -in khaki and a number of sinister-looking Ruga-ruga, -like those who had once been in Stolzenberg's employ. -Bottles were being smashed in the search for brandy, -strange fumes filled the air, irrevocable damage was -doubtless being done. Here and there, thrown on one -side whilst they searched for treasure, were heaps of -slaughtered turkeys, peafowl, Crowned cranes and -guinea-fowl, which the looting soldiery had obtained -from the poultry yards and aviaries round about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Roger, possessed with a fury which transformed him -at this stupid destruction, shouted military commands -to the men in khaki and in rags. Mechanically they -dropped their booty and were silent. Some of the -Ruga-ruga recognized him as the </span><em class="italics">Bwana-mkubwa</em><span> who -had once reigned here, and had joined the -"Wadachi"[#] in investigating the "Terror's" death and -disappearance. Cowed by his presence, they obeyed -an order to march out of the building and assemble -with the soldiers in the public square of Magara there -to await further orders. Revolver in hand, and well -backed by his determined-looking Wanyamwezi, he -said: "I will shoot any man among you whom I catch -looting or destroying." Sullenly they slunk away.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="ncindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] Germans.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Another mile's ride and here he was before his -former home, his mouth and throat dry with -apprehension. The formal garden in front of the house was -beautifully neat, gay with flowers in better order even -than in his days. Up the pebbled path which led to -the verandah and the stone steps he walked with a -beating heart. Oh, that he should be seeing it all -again; and oh, that Lucy might come out through the -French windows with her graceful, rather languid -walk, to throw her arms around his neck and say: -"Dearest; dear, </span><em class="italics">dear</em><span> Roger; back at last!" Or that -even trusty sister, Maud— How was Maud faring? -He had heard nothing of her since a letter reached him -at Stanley Pool, nearly two years ago ... those -terrible years of silence whilst he traversed Central -Africa....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But at the rumour of his approach it was neither his -living sister nor the wraith of his dead wife that -emerged from the open doorway: it was the sinister -figure of Willowby Patterne: like himself in khaki: -thinner, yellower, greyer, wickeder-looking than he had -seen him ten or twelve years ago.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Had a presentiment we should meet here," said -Patterne, trying with a hand that shook to fix an -insolent eyeglass in a bloodshot eye. "Though no one -knew what had become of you since you bolted from -England when the war started. No! ..." (as Roger -makes to advance) "... Stay where you are or I -shall have you arrested at once you ... you ... German -... </span><em class="italics">spy</em><span>!" (Roger takes his revolver out -of its leather case and sees that it is loaded and ready.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh? I've got a revolver, too. If you make the -slightest movement till I tell you to go, and where to -go, I shall shoot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this threat, the general purport of which he -understands, Omari bin Brahimu steps in front of his -master and produces </span><em class="italics">his</em><span> revolver. Seeing this, -Willowby Patterne calls in a rather quavering voice, -"Njoôni, watu wangu, upesi; yupo adui! Upesi!"[#] Two -men come from the back premises, look from the -white devil pacing up and down on the verandah to -the figures of Roger and Omari; and then, with a -shout of joy, fling themselves on Roger—not to arrest -him as Willowby first supposes, and so hesitates to -shoot, but to kiss his hand, kneel at his feet, utter -incoherent cries of joy, the while Omari keeps his pistol -steadily aimed at the "Little Terror." They are two -of Brentham's Somali gun-bearers of seven years back, -Yusuf Ali and Ashuro.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="ncindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] "Come, my men, quick! Here is the enemy, quick!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Willowby, longing to shoot and kill, yet letting I -dare not wait upon I would, disquieted that none of -his Ruga-ruga obey his frantic whistling, decides to -make a bolt of it and rally them and the Nyasaland -soldiers, and so make a prompt end of Roger and the -Somali traitors. (These men had arrived at his -station in Namanga, hangers-on of the large and -heterogeneous British force which was seeking a way across -the little-known region between Meru and the Happy -Valley. They told Patterne they had once been -employed in Iraku on the Concession and offered to help -him to show the way. Believing they might be useful -for his own purposes in laying hands on the things he -sought for, he had taken them on; and here they were, -saluting his rival and enemy like a demi-god ... If -he only got a chance to get hold of them! </span><em class="italics">He'd</em><span> cut -the life out of them with a kiboko!....)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whilst he hesitated whether to walk down the steps -in a dignified way or jump from the rails of the -verandah into the flower-beds, his indecision was terminated -abruptly. Behind him a woman shrieked, and he felt -himself propelled by a vigorous push of stout arms -down the stone steps and almost on to the group of -Roger, Omari and the two Somalis. These might have -laid hold of him, but a German lady, Frau Hildebrandt, -impeded their action. She unceremoniously pushed -Patterne into a parterre of petunias, whilst she too -clasped Roger's hands in a frenzied appeal, a rapturous -greeting. "It is Herr Brentham! Ach lieber Gott! -Er wird verstehen. He will be our salvation. Ach -mein Mann! Ach meine kinder! Hilf! Hilf!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patterne rose to his feet, ran over flower-beds, -through or over dracæna hedges (since Roger's men -blocked the garden gate), out of a tangle of gardens -and outhouses, across the green, to the public square -and market-place. Here he found groups of bewildered, -sulky King's African Rifles, and his own Ruga-ruga. -He had been given an escort of fifty Negro -riflemen when, three days before, he had been detailed—at -his own request, having finished his job as guide—to -"clear up" Iraku and the European settlement -of Wilhelmshöhe, professing to know every inch of the -ground. He had been told, of course, that unless -resistance was offered there was to be no looting; that -any German women or children were to be allowed to -remain in their homes until they could be officially dealt -with, and all German men surrendering to be treated -humanely as prisoners of war, and marched under -escort to the nearest British camp. These instructions -he had chosen to interpret in his own way by killing -Dr. Wiese and terrorizing Frau Hildebrandt into -finding him the information of which he was in search. -He intended, of course, to make himself master of the -Concession, in the hope that he might be recognized -as owner after the War. There would certainly be -several years of confusion in which he might rule here and -perhaps acquire all the wealth he wanted.....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the arrival—the resurrection almost—of -Roger Brentham had so queered his plans that he saw -red. He would assemble all the men he could get hold -of and make a sudden rush on Magara House, and -shoot, shoot, shoot before Roger's party could put -themselves in a position of defence. He would declare -Roger to be a traitor and a German Spy. Provided -he killed him, the </span><em class="italics">fait accompli</em><span> would not be followed -with much of an inquiry at this very critical time....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But his Ruga-ruga were slow to respond, having -recognized Roger as a redoubtable warrior. And the -Nyasaland regulars flatly refused to march to the -attack. Patterne was not one of their regular officers, -and they insisted that an English Colonel having taken -possession of this country they should all rejoin the -main army and lay the case before their commanding -officer. So Patterne, gathered his loads together, -awoke his weary porters (who had taken advantage of -the halt to gorge themselves with food after their -severe privations) and departed down the Valley in the -direction of the rapidly advancing armies. He felt he -could not halt or eat or sleep till he had taken vengeance -on the man who had so persistently baulked him; he -would denounce him as a spy, as a traitor ... perhaps—oh -joy!—get him court-martialled and shot; at any -rate, collared and marched out of East Africa.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he never even reached the head-quarters of the -army now entering Irangi. Roger, anticipating his -intentions, had rapidly written an account of his actions -in turning Patterne out of Magara House, had -explained who he was, the route he had followed, and his -intention to remain in charge of the Concession till he -was ordered to leave it by the proper authority. The -Somalis travelling twice as quickly as Patterne's </span><em class="italics">safari</em><span>, -and travelling with as much secrecy as speed, delivered -the letter to the nearest British officer in high -command. Some say that on the return journey they took -a pot shot at Patterne as he was halting to whip some -of his laggard porters; others that Patterne was speared -in Ufiome by Masai camp-followers of the main army, -who had suffered by some of his raids in the past, or -who transferred to the "Little Terror" the vendetta -they had carried on with his ally, the Big Terror of the -Red Crater. In any case, "he perished miserably," as -they used to write in pre-Wells histories. He never -was heard of again, after he left the Happy Valley. -His escort of Nyasaland soldiers quietly rejoined their -regiment, then in the thick of fighting at Kondoa-Irangi; -and no one cared enough about Sir Willowby -Patterne to put any questions. His Ruga-ruga -dispersed as plunderers on their own account, till they -were rounded up sharply and a few of them shot for -looting. The "Little Terror" ceased all at once to -terrify, and the baronetcy, after a year's delay and -presumption of death, passed to a distant relative, who -was the reverend headmaster of a public school.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Roger, meantime, gradually restored the Happy -Valley to something of its former peace and quietness. -He harboured the Catholic missionaries and the -German women and children there till provision could be -made for their withdrawal. His proceedings were -approved and sanctioned by a Boer General commanding -a wing of the British invading army, who by one of -those coincidences so common in this incredible war, -not only played a great part in conquering German -East Africa for the Empire he himself had steadily -fought against for three years, but turned out to be the -very identical van Rensselaer who had picked up Roger -as a prisoner and saved his life in 1900.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As soon as the Happy Valley was brought into -telegraphic communication with the coast and with -England, Roger cabled to his sister his whereabouts and his -intentions to remain in the Happy Valley till its -political fate was decided. In return he learnt of the death -of his two sons, and the fact that his two daughters had -felt impelled to marry—Maud ("Fatima"), Lord -Silchester, and Sibyl ("Goosey") a wounded officer—without -waiting to hear from a father presumably lost -in Central Africa.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>So Colonel Roger Brentham at the end of the war -decided that the England of the Armistice and the -Peace and the Reconstruction period was no country -for him to live in, with its coal strikes, railway strikes, -engineer strikes, police strikes, taxi-drivers' strikes, -dockers' strikes, bakers' strikes, stage-hands' strikes -and electricians' strikes; its Irish atrocities and -reprisals; its futurist art; its paper-strewn highways and -byways and beauty-spots; its bottle-throwing chars-à-bancs; -man-slaughtering motors; Albert Hall Victory -Balls; jazz dances; betting scandals; high prices; and -low standards of political morality. Preferable, far, -was the Happy Valley, where relations between black, -white, and brown were well adjusted, where great -wealth was being quietly produced to the proportionate -profit of all concerned in the production; where -protection was not only accorded to all human beings, but -also to all beasts and birds not directly harmful to -human interests.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, after regularizing his position with the Colonial -Office and the "enemy" shareholders, he asked his -sister Maud to join him, and replaced the Stotts and -Ann Anderson in their industrial mission stations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And in the Happy Valley he may remain another ten -years yet, till he becomes a walking compendium of -information on the past and present of East Africa.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he is 72 and Maud is 74—a wonder as regards -resistance to African germ diseases—-it is just -possible they may not wish to leave their bones in an -African grave. They may take passages in an Aerobus -to Hendon and thence slip down to Aldermaston by -motor and up to Farleigh; and after glancing round at -a rejuvenated England and a pacified Ireland, after -appraising the intelligence and beauty of Roger's -grand-children—especially the son and heir of Lord -Silchester—may finally retire in some season of abnormal -cold and unconquerable influenza to cedar-shaded -Aldermaston churchyard, where the vestiges of Lucy and -Sibyl await them.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE MAN WHO DID THE RIGHT THING</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45451"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45451</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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