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diff --git a/5898-h/5898-h.htm b/5898-h/5898-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8a605f0 --- /dev/null +++ b/5898-h/5898-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15021 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Jess, by H. Rider Haggard</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold;'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Jess, by H. Rider Haggard</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world 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 Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Jess</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: H. Rider Haggard</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April 22, 2006 [eBook #5898]<br /> +[Most recently updated: March 31, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: John Bickers; Dagny and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JESS ***</div> + +<h1>Jess</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by H. Rider Haggard</h2> + + +<h3>First Published 1887.</h3> + +<h3>TO MY WIFE</h3> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents.</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I. JOHN HAS AN ADVENTURE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II. HOW THE SISTERS CAME TO MOOIFONTEIN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III. MR. FRANK MULLER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV. BESSIE IS ASKED IN MARRIAGE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V. DREAMS ARE FOOLISHNESS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI. THE STORM BREAKS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII. LOVE’S YOUNG DREAM</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII. JESS GOES TO PRETORIA</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER IX. JANTJE’S STORY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER X. JOHN HAS AN ESCAPE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER XI. ON THE BRINK</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER XII. OVER IT</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII. FRANK MULLER SHOWS HIS HAND</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV. JOHN TO THE RESCUE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">CHAPTER XV. A ROUGH JOURNEY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">CHAPTER XVI. PRETORIA</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap17">CHAPTER XVII. THE TWELFTH OF FEBRUARY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap18">CHAPTER XVIII. AND AFTER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap19">CHAPTER XIX. HANS COETZEE COMES TO PRETORIA</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap20">CHAPTER XX. THE GREAT MAN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap21">CHAPTER XXI. JESS GETS A PASS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap22">CHAPTER XXII. ON THE ROAD</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap23">CHAPTER XXIII. IN THE DRIFT OF THE VAAL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap24">CHAPTER XXIV. THE SHADOW OF DEATH</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap25">CHAPTER XXV. MEANWHILE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap26">CHAPTER XXVI. FRANK MULLER’S FAMILIAR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap27">CHAPTER XXVII. SILAS IS CONVINCED</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap28">CHAPTER XXVIII. BESSIE IS PUT TO THE QUESTION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap29">CHAPTER XXIX. CONDEMNED TO DEATH</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap30">CHAPTER XXX. “WE MUST PART, JOHN”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap31">CHAPTER XXXI. JESS FINDS A FRIEND</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap32">CHAPTER XXXII. HE SHALL DIE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap33">CHAPTER XXXIII. VENGEANCE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap34">CHAPTER XXXIV. TANTA COETZEE TO THE RESCUE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap35">CHAPTER XXXV. THE CONCLUSION OF THE MATTER</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>JESS.</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I.<br/> +JOHN HAS AN ADVENTURE</h2> + +<p> +The day had been very hot even for the Transvaal, where the days still know how +to be hot in the autumn, although the neck of the summer is +broken—especially when the thunderstorms hold off for a week or two, as +they do occasionally. Even the succulent blue lilies—a variety of the +agapanthus which is so familiar to us in English greenhouses—hung their +long trumpet-shaped flowers and looked oppressed and miserable, beneath the +burning breath of the hot wind which had been blowing for hours like the +draught from a volcano. The grass, too, near the wide roadway that stretched in +a feeble and indeterminate fashion across the veldt, forking, branching, and +reuniting like the veins on a lady’s arm, was completely coated over with +a thick layer of red dust. But the hot wind was going down now, as it always +does towards sunset. Indeed, all that remained of it were a few strictly local +and miniature whirlwinds, which would suddenly spring up on the road itself, +and twist and twirl fiercely round, raising a mighty column of dust fifty feet +or more into the air, where it hung long after the wind had passed, and then +slowly dissolved as its particles floated to the earth. +</p> + +<p> +Advancing along the road, in the immediate track of one of these desultory and +inexplicable whirlwinds, was a man on horseback. The man looked limp and dirty, +and the horse limper and dirtier. The hot wind had “taken all the bones +out of them,” as the Kafirs say, which was not very much to be wondered +at, seeing that they had been journeying through it for the last four hours +without off-saddling. Suddenly the whirlwind, which had been travelling along +smartly, halted, and the dust, after revolving a few times in the air like a +dying top, slowly began to disperse in the accustomed fashion. The man on the +horse halted also, and contemplated it in an absent kind of way. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s just like a man’s life,” he said aloud to his +horse, “coming from nobody knows where, nobody knows why, and making a +little column of dust on the world’s highway, then passing away, leaving +the dust to fall to the ground again, to be trodden under foot and +forgotten.” +</p> + +<p> +The speaker, a stout, well set-up, rather ugly man, apparently on the wrong +side of thirty, with pleasant blue eyes and a reddish peaked beard, laughed a +little at his own sententious reflection, and then gave his jaded horse a tap +with the <i>sjambock</i> in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Come on, Blesbok,” he said, “or we shall never get to old +Croft’s place to-night. By Jove! I believe that must be the turn,” +and he pointed with his whip to a little rutty track that branched from the +Wakkerstroom main road and stretched away towards a curious isolated hill with +a large flat top, which rose out of the rolling plain some four miles to the +right. “The old Boer said the second turn,” he went on still +talking to himself, “but perhaps he lied. I am told that some of them +think it is a good joke to send an Englishman a few miles wrong. Let’s +see, they told me the place was under the lee of a table-topped hill, about +half an hour’s ride from the main road, and that is a table-topped hill, +so I think I will try it. Come on, Blesbok,” and he put the tired nag +into a sort of “tripple,” or ambling canter much affected by South +African horses. +</p> + +<p> +“Life is a queer thing,” reflected Captain John Niel to himself as +he cantered along slowly. “Now here am I, at the age of thirty-four, +about to begin the world again as assistant to an old Transvaal farmer. It is a +pretty end to all one’s ambitions, and to fourteen years’ work in +the army; but it is what it has come to, my boy, so you had better make the +best of it.” +</p> + +<p> +Just then his cogitations were interrupted, for on the farther side of a gentle +slope suddenly there appeared an extraordinary sight. Over the crest of the +rise of land, now some four or five hundred yards away, a pony with a lady on +its back galloped wildly, and after it, with wings spread and outstretched +neck, a huge cock ostrich was speeding in pursuit, covering twelve or fifteen +feet at every stride of its long legs. The pony was still twenty yards ahead of +the bird, and travelling towards John rapidly, but strive as it would it could +not distance the swiftest thing on all the earth. Five seconds passed—the +great bird was close alongside now—Ah! and John Niel turned sick and shut +his eyes as he rode, for he saw the ostrich’s thick leg fly high into the +air and then sweep down like a leaded bludgeon! +</p> + +<p> +<i>Thud!</i> It had missed the lady and struck her horse upon the spine, just +behind the saddle, for the moment completely paralysing it so that it fell all +of a heap on to the veldt. In a moment the girl on its back was up and running +towards him, and after her came the ostrich. Up went the great leg again, but +before it could come crashing across her shoulders she had flung herself face +downwards on the grass. In an instant the huge bird was on the top of her, +kicking at her, rolling over her, and crushing the very life out of her. It was +at this juncture that John Niel arrived upon the scene. The moment the ostrich +saw him it gave up its attacks upon the lady on the ground and began to waltz +towards him with the pompous sort of step that these birds sometimes assume +before they give battle. Now Captain Niel was unaccustomed to the pleasant ways +of ostriches, and so was his horse, which showed a strong inclination to bolt; +as, indeed, under other circumstances, his rider would have been glad to do +himself. But he could not abandon beauty in distress, so, finding it impossible +to control his horse, he slipped off it, and with the <i>sjambock</i> or +hide-whip in his hand valiantly faced the enemy. For a moment or two the great +bird stood still, blinking its lustrous round eyes at him and gently swaying +its graceful neck to and fro. +</p> + +<p> +Then all of a sudden it spread out its wings and came for him like a +thunderbolt. John sprang to one side, and was aware of a rustle of rushing +feathers, and of a vision of a thick leg striking downwards past his head. +Fortunately it missed him, and the ostrich sped on like a flash. Before he +could turn, however, it was back and had landed the full weight of one of its +awful forward kicks on the broad of his shoulders, and away he went +head-over-heels like a shot rabbit. In a second he was on his legs again, +shaken indeed, but not much the worse, and perfectly mad with fury and pain. At +him came the ostrich, and at the ostrich went he, catching it a blow across the +slim neck with his <i>sjambock</i> that staggered it for a moment. Profiting by +the check, he seized the bird by the wing and held on like grim death with both +hands. Now they began to gyrate, slowly at first, then quicker, and yet more +quick, till at last it seemed to Captain John Niel that time and space and the +solid earth were nothing but a revolving vision fixed somewhere in the watches +of the night. Above him, like a stationary pivot, towered the tall graceful +neck, beneath him spun the top-like legs, and in front of him was a soft black +and white mass of feathers. +</p> + +<p> +Thud, and a cloud of stars! He was on his back, and the ostrich, which did not +seem to be affected by giddiness, was on <i>him</i>, punishing him dreadfully. +Luckily an ostrich cannot kick a man very hard when he is flat on the ground. +If he could, there would have been an end of John Niel, and his story need +never have been written. +</p> + +<p> +Half a minute or so passed, during which the bird worked his sweet will upon +his prostrate enemy, and at the end of it the man began to feel very much as +though his earthly career was closed. Just as things were growing faint and dim +to him, however, he suddenly saw a pair of white arms clasp themselves round +the ostrich’s legs from behind, and heard a voice cry: +</p> + +<p> +“Break his neck while I hold his legs, or he will kill you.” +</p> + +<p> +This roused him from his torpor, and he staggered to his feet. Meanwhile the +ostrich and the young lady had come to the ground, and were rolling about +together in a confused heap, over which the elegant neck and open hissing mouth +wavered to and fro like a cobra about to strike. With a rush John seized the +neck in both his hands, and, putting out all his strength (for he was a strong +man), he twisted it till it broke with a snap, and after a few wild and +convulsive bounds and struggles the great bird lay dead. +</p> + +<p> +Then he sank down dazed and exhausted, and surveyed the scene. The ostrich was +perfectly quiet, and would never kick again, and the lady too was quiet. He +wondered vaguely if the brute had killed her—he was as yet too weak to go +and see—and then fell to gazing at her face. Her head was pillowed on the +body of the dead bird, and its feathery plumes made it a fitting resting-place. +Slowly it dawned on him that the face was very beautiful, although it looked so +pale just now. Low broad brow, crowned with soft yellow hair, the chin very +round and white, the mouth sweet though rather large. The eyes he could not +see, because they were closed, for the lady had fainted. For the rest, she was +quite young—about twenty, tall and finely formed. Presently he felt a +little better, and, creeping towards her (for he was sadly knocked about), took +her hand and began to chafe it between his own. It was a well-formed hand, but +brown, and showed signs of doing plenty of hard work. Soon she opened her eyes, +and he noted with satisfaction that they were very good eyes, blue in colour. +Then she sat up and laughed a little. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I am silly,” she said; “I believe I fainted.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not much to be wondered at,” said John Niel politely, and +lifting his hand to take off his hat, only to find that it had gone in the +fray. “I hope you are not very much hurt by the bird.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” she said doubtfully. “But I am glad +that you killed the <i>skellum</i> (vicious beast). He got out of the ostrich +camp three days ago, and has been lost ever since. He killed a boy last year, +and I told uncle he ought to shoot him then, but he would not, because he was +such a beauty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Might I ask,” said John Niel, “are you Miss Croft?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I am—one of them. There are two of us, you know; and I can +guess who you are—you are Captain Niel, whom uncle is expecting to help +him with the farm and the ostriches.” +</p> + +<p> +“If all of them are like that,” he said, pointing to the dead bird, +“I don’t think that I shall take kindly to ostrich farming.” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed, showing a charming line of teeth. “Oh no,” she said, +“he was the only bad one—but, Captain Niel, I think you will find +it fearfully dull. There are nothing but Boers about here, you know. No English +people live nearer than Wakkerstroom.” +</p> + +<p> +“You overlook yourself,” he said, bowing; for really this daughter +of the wilderness had a very charming air about her. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” she answered, “I am only a girl, you know, and besides, +I am not clever. Jess, now—that’s my sister—Jess has been at +school at Capetown, and she <i>is</i> clever. I was at Cape Town, too, though I +didn’t learn much there. But, Captain Niel, both the horses have bolted; +mine has gone home, and I expect yours has followed, and I should like to know +how we are going to get up to Mooifontein—beautiful fountain, +that’s what we call our place, you know. Can you walk?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” he answered doubtfully; “I’ll +try. That bird has knocked me about a good deal,” and accordingly he +staggered on to his legs, only to collapse with an exclamation of pain. His +ankle was sprained, and he was so stiff and bruised that he could hardly stir. +“How far is the house?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Only about a mile—just there; we shall see it from the crest of +the rise. Look, I’m all right. It was silly to faint, but he kicked all +the breath out of me,” and she got up and danced a little on the grass to +show him. “My word, though, I am sore! You must take my arm, that’s +all; that is if you don’t mind?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh dear no, indeed, I don’t mind,” he said laughing; and so +they started, arm affectionately linked in arm. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II.<br/> +HOW THE SISTERS CAME TO MOOIFONTEIN</h2> + +<p> +“Captain Niel,” said Bessie Croft—for she was named +Bessie—when they had painfully limped one hundred yards or so, +“will you think me rude if I ask you a question?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“What has induced you to come and bury yourself in this place?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you ask?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I don’t think that you will like it. I don’t +think,” she added slowly, “that it is a fit place for an English +gentleman and an army officer like you. You will find the Boer ways horrid, and +then there will only be my old uncle and us two for you to associate +with.” +</p> + +<p> +John Niel laughed. “English gentlemen are not so particular nowadays, I +can assure you, Miss Croft, especially when they have to earn a living. Take my +case, for instance, for I may as well tell you exactly how I stand. I have been +in the army fourteen years, and I am now thirty-four. Well, I have been able to +live there because I had an old aunt who allowed me 120 pounds a year. Six +months ago she died, leaving me the little property she possessed, for most of +her income came from an annuity. After paying expenses, duty, &c., it +amounts to 1,115 pounds. Now, the interest on this is about fifty pounds a +year, and I can’t live in the army on that. Just after my aunt’s +death I came to Durban with my regiment from Mauritius, and now they are +ordered home. Well, I liked the country, and I knew that I could not afford to +live in England, so I got a year’s leave of absence, and made up my mind +to have a look round to see if I could not take to farming. Then a gentleman in +Durban told me of your uncle, and said that he wanted to dispose of a third +interest in his place for a thousand pounds, as he was getting too old to +manage it himself. So I entered into correspondence with him, and agreed to +come up for a few months to see how I liked it; and accordingly here I am, just +in time to save you from being knocked to bits by an ostrich.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed,” she answered, laughing; “you’ve had a +warm welcome at any rate. Well, I hope you <i>will</i> like it.” +</p> + +<p> +Just as he finished his story they reached the top of the rise over which the +ostrich had pursued Bessie Croft, and saw a Kafir coming towards them, leading +the pony with one hand and Captain Niel’s horse with the other. About +twenty yards behind the horses a lady was walking. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said Bessie, “they’ve caught the horses, and here +is Jess come to see what is the matter.” +</p> + +<p> +By this time the lady in question was quite close, so that John was able to +gather a first impression of her. She was small and rather thin, with +quantities of curling brown hair; not by any means a lovely woman, as her +sister undoubtedly was, but possessing two very remarkable +characteristics—a complexion of extraordinary and uniform pallor, and a +pair of the most beautiful dark eyes he had ever looked on. Altogether, though +her size was almost insignificant, she was a striking-looking person, with a +face few men would easily forget. Before he had time to observe any more the +two parties had met. +</p> + +<p> +“What on earth is the matter, Bessie?” Jess said, with a quick +glance at her sister’s companion, and speaking in a low full voice, with +just a slight South African accent, that is taking enough in a pretty woman. +Thereon Bessie broke out with a history of their adventure, appealing to +Captain Niel for confirmation at intervals. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Jess Croft stood quite still and silent, and it struck John that her +face was the most singularly impassive one he had ever seen. It never changed, +even when her sister told her how the ostrich rolled on her and nearly killed +her, or how they finally subdued the foe. “Dear me,” he thought to +herself, “what a very strange woman! She can’t have much +heart.” But just as he thought it the girl looked up, and then he saw +where the expression lay. It was in those remarkable eyes. Immovable as was her +face, the dark eyes were alight with life and a suppressed excitement that made +them shine gloriously. The contrast between the shining eyes and the impassive +face beneath them struck him as so extraordinary as to be almost uncanny. As a +matter of fact, it was doubtless both unusual and remarkable. +</p> + +<p> +“You have had a wonderful escape, but I am sorry for the bird,” she +said at last. +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” asked John. +</p> + +<p> +“Because we were great friends. I was the only person who could manage +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” put in Bessie, “the savage brute would follow her +about like a dog. It was just the oddest thing I ever saw. But come on; we must +be getting home, it’s growing dark. Mouti”—which, being +interpreted, means Medicine—she added, addressing the Kafir in +Zulu—“help Captain Niel on to his horse. Be careful that the saddle +does not twist round; the girths may be loose.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus adjured, John, with the help of the Zulu, clambered into his saddle, an +example that the lady quickly followed, and they set off once more through the +gathering darkness. Presently he became aware that they were passing up a drive +bordered by tall blue gums, and next minute the barking of a large dog, which +he afterwards knew by the name of Stomp, and the sudden appearance of lighted +windows told him that they had reached the house. At the door—or rather, +opposite to it, for there was a verandah in front—they halted and got off +their horses. As they dismounted there came a shout of welcome from the house, +and presently in the doorway, showing out clearly against the light, appeared a +striking and, in its way, a most pleasant figure. He—for it was a +man—was very tall, or, rather, he had been very tall. Now he was much +bent with age and rheumatism. His long white hair hung low upon his neck, and +fell back from a prominent brow. The top of the head was quite bald, like the +tonsure of a priest, and shone and glistened in the lamplight, and round this +oasis the thin white locks fell down. The face was shrivelled like the surface +of a well-kept apple, and, like an apple, rosy red. The features were aquiline +and strongly marked; the eyebrows still black and very bushy, and beneath them +shone a pair of grey eyes, keen and bright as those of a hawk. But for all its +sharpness, there was nothing unpleasant or fierce about the face; on the +contrary, it was pervaded by a remarkable air of good-nature and pleasant +shrewdness. For the rest, the man was dressed in rough tweed clothes, tall +riding-boots, and held a broad-brimmed Boer hunting hat in his hand. Such, as +John Niel first saw him, was the outer person of old Silas Croft, one of the +most remarkable men in the Transvaal. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that you, Captain Niel?” roared out the stentorian voice. +“The natives said you were coming. A welcome to you! I am glad to see +you—very glad. Why, what is the matter with you?” he went on as the +Zulu Mouti ran to help him off his horse. +</p> + +<p> +“Matter, Mr. Croft?” answered John; “why, the matter is that +your favourite ostrich has nearly killed me and your niece here, and that I +have killed your favourite ostrich.” +</p> + +<p> +Then followed explanations from Bessie, during which he was helped off his +horse and into the house. +</p> + +<p> +“It serves me right,” said the old man. “To think of it now, +just to think of it! Well, Bessie, my love, thank God that you +escaped—ay, and you too, Captain Niel. Here, you boys, take the Scotch +cart and a couple of oxen and go and fetch the brute home. We may as well have +the feathers off him, at any rate, before the <i>aasvogels</i> (vultures) tear +him to bits.” +</p> + +<p> +After he had washed himself and tended his injuries with arnica and water, John +managed to limp into the principal sitting-room, where supper was waiting. It +was a very pleasant room, furnished in European style, and carpeted with mats +made of springbuck skins. In the corner stood a piano, and by it a bookcase, +filled with the works of standard authors, the property, as John rightly +guessed, of Bessie’s sister Jess. +</p> + +<p> +Supper went off pleasantly enough, and after it was over the two girls sang and +played whilst the men smoked. And here a fresh surprise awaited him, for after +Bessie, who apparently had now almost recovered from her mauling, had played a +piece or two creditably enough, Jess, who so far had been nearly silent, sat +down at the piano. She did not do this willingly, indeed, for it was not until +her patriarchal uncle had insisted in his ringing, cheery voice that she should +let Captain Niel hear how she could sing that she consented. But at last she +did consent, and then, after letting her fingers stray somewhat aimlessly along +the chords, she suddenly broke out into such song as John Niel had never heard +before. Her voice, beautiful as it was, was not what is known as a cultivated +voice, and it was a German song, therefore he did not understand it, but there +was no need of words to translate its burden. Passion, despairing yet hoping +through despair, echoed in its every line, and love, unending love, hovered +over the glorious notes—nay, possessed them like a spirit, and made them +his. Up! up! rang her wild sweet voice, thrilling his nerves till they answered +to the music as an Aeolian harp answers to the winds. On went the song with a +divine sweep, like the sweep of rushing pinions; higher, yet higher it soared, +lifting up the listener’s heart far above the world on the trembling +wings of sound—ay, even higher, till the music hung at heaven’s +gate, and falling thence, swiftly as an eagle falls, quivered, and was dead. +</p> + +<p> +John sighed, and so strongly was he moved, sank back in his chair, feeling +almost faint with the revulsion of feeling that ensued when the notes had died +away. He looked up, and saw Bessie watching him with an air of curiosity and +amusement. Jess was still leaning against the piano, and gently touching the +notes, over which her head was bent low, showing the coils of curling hair that +were twisted round it like a coronet. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Captain Niel,” said the old man, waving his pipe in her +direction, “and what do you say to my singing-bird’s music, eh? +Isn’t it enough to draw the heart out of a man, eh, and turn his marrow +to water, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“I never heard anything quite like it,” he answered simply, +“and I have heard most singers. It is beautiful. Certainly, I never +expected to hear such singing in the Transvaal.” +</p> + +<p> +Jess turned quickly, and he observed that, though her eyes were alight with +excitement, her face was as impassive as ever. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no need for you to laugh at me, Captain Niel,” she said +quickly, and then, with an abrupt “Good-night,” she left the room. +</p> + +<p> +The old man smiled, jerked the stem of his pipe over his shoulder after her, +and winked in a way that, no doubt, meant unutterable things, but which did not +convey much to his astonished guest, who sat still and said nothing. Then +Bessie rose and bade him good-night in her pleasant voice, and with housewifely +care inquired as to whether his room was to his taste, and how many blankets he +liked upon his bed, telling him that if he found the odour of the moonflowers +which grew near the verandah too strong, he had better shut the right-hand +window and open that on the other side of the room. Then at length, with a +piquant little nod of her golden head, she went off, looking, John thought as +he watched her retreating figure, about as healthy, graceful, and generally +satisfactory a young woman as a man could wish to see. +</p> + +<p> +“Take a glass of grog, Captain Niel,” said the old man, pushing the +square bottle towards him, “you’ll need it after the mauling that +brute gave you. By the way, I haven’t thanked you for saving my Bessie! +But I do thank you, yes, that I do. I must tell you that Bessie is my favourite +niece. Never was there such a girl—never. Moves like a springbuck, and +what an eye and form! Work too—she’ll do as much work as three. +There’s no nonsense about Bessie, none at all. She’s not a fine +lady, for all her fine looks.” +</p> + +<p> +“The two sisters seem very different,” said John. +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, you’re right there,” answered the old man. +“You’d never think that the same blood ran in their veins, would +you? There’s three years between them, that’s one thing. +Bessie’s the youngest, you see—she’s just twenty, and Jess is +twenty-three. Lord, to think that it is twenty-three years since that girl was +born! And theirs is a queer story too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed?” said his listener interrogatively. +</p> + +<p> +“Ay,” Silas went on absently, knocking out his pipe, and refilling +it from a big brown jar of coarse-cut Boer tobacco, “I’ll tell it +to you if you like: you are going to live in the house, and you may as well +know it. I am sure, Captain Niel, that it will go no further. You see I was +born in England, yes, and well-born too. I come from Cambridgeshire—from +the fat fen-land down round Ely. My father was a clergyman. Well, he +wasn’t rich, and when I was twenty he gave me his blessing, thirty +sovereigns in my pocket, and my passage to the Cape; and I shook his hand, God +bless him, and off I came, and here in the old colony and this country I have +been for fifty years, for I was seventy yesterday. Well, I’ll tell you +more about that another time, it’s of the girls I’m speaking now. +After I left home—some years after—my dear old father married +again, a youngish woman with some money, but rather beneath him in life, and by +her he had one son, and then died. Well, it was but little I heard of my +half-brother, except that he had turned out very badly, married, and taken to +drink, till one night some twelve years ago, when a strange thing happened. I +was sitting here in this very room, ay, in this very chair—for this part +of the house was up then, though the wings weren’t built—smoking my +pipe, and listening to the lashing of the rain, for it was a very foul night, +when suddenly an old pointer dog I had, named Ben, began to bark. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Lie down, Ben, it’s only the Kafirs,’ said I. +</p> + +<p> +“Just then I thought I heard a faint sort of rapping at the door, and Ben +barked again, so I got up and opened it, and in came two little girls wrapped +in old shawls or some such gear. Well, I shut the door, looking first to see if +there were any more outside, and then I turned and stared at the two little +things with my mouth open. There they stood, hand in hand, the water dripping +from both of them; the elder might have been eleven, and the second about eight +years old. They didn’t say anything, but the elder turned and took the +shawl and hat off the younger—that was Bessie—and there was her +sweet little face and her golden hair, and damp enough both of them were, and +she put her thumb in her mouth, and stood and looked at me till I began to +think that I was dreaming. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Please, sir,’ said the taller at last, ‘is this Mr. +Croft’s house—Mr. Croft—South African Republic?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Yes, little Miss, this is his house, and this is the South +African Republic, and I am he. And now who might you be, my dears?’ I +answered. +</p> + +<p> +“‘If you please, sir, we are your nieces, and we have come to you +from England.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘What!’ I holloaed, startled out of my wits, as well I might +be. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh, sir,’ says the poor little thing, clasping her thin wet +hands, ‘please don’t send us away. Bessie is so wet, and cold and +hungry too, she isn’t fit to go any farther.’ +</p> + +<p> +“And she set to work to cry, whereon the little one cried also, from +fright and cold and sympathy. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, of course, I took them both to the fire, and set them on my knees, +and called for Hebe, the old Hottentot woman who did my cooking, and between us +we undressed them, and wrapped them up in some old clothes, and fed them with +soup and wine, so that in half an hour they were quite happy and not a bit +frightened. +</p> + +<p> +“‘And now, young ladies,’ I said, ‘come and give me a +kiss, both of you, and tell me how you came here.’ +</p> + +<p> +“This is the tale they told me—completed, of course, from what I +learnt afterwards—and an odd one it is. It seems that my half-brother +married a Norfolk lady—a sweet young thing—and treated her like a +dog. He was a drunken rascal, was my half-brother, and he beat his poor wife +and shamefully neglected her, and even ill-used the two little girls, till at +last the poor woman, weak as she was from suffering and ill health, could bear +it no longer, and formed the wild idea of escaping to this country and of +throwing herself upon my protection. That shows how desperate she must have +been. She scraped together and borrowed some money, enough to pay for three +second-class passages to Natal and a few pounds over, and one day, when her +brute of a husband was away on the drink and gamble, she slipped on board a +sailing ship in the London Docks, and before he knew anything about it they +were well out to sea. But it was her last effort, poor dear soul, and the +excitement of it finished her. Before they had been ten days at sea, she sank +and died, and the two little children were left alone. What they must have +suffered, or rather what poor Jess must have suffered, for she was old enough +to feel, God only knows, but I can tell you this, she has never got over the +shock to this hour. It has left its mark on her, sir. Still, let people say +what they will, there is a Power who looks after the helpless, and that Power +took those poor, homeless, wandering children under its wing. The captain of +the vessel befriended them, and when at last they reached Durban some of the +passengers made a subscription, and paid an old Boer, who was coming up this +way with his wife to the Transvaal, to take them under his charge. The Boer and +his <i>vrouw</i> treated the children fairly well, but they did not do one +thing more than they bargained for. At the turn from the Wakkerstroom road, +that you came along to-day, they put the girls down, for they had no luggage +with them, and told them that if they went along there they would come to +<i>Meinheer</i> Croft’s house. That was in the middle of the afternoon, +and they were till eight o’clock getting here, poor little dears, for the +track was fainter then than it is now, and they wandered off into the veldt, +and would have perished there in the wet and cold had they not chanced to see +the lights of the house. That was how my nieces came here, Captain Niel, and +here they have been ever since, except for a couple of years when I sent them +to the Cape for schooling, and a lonely man I was when they were away.” +</p> + +<p> +“And how about the father?” asked John Niel, deeply interested. +“Did you ever hear any more of him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hear of him, the villain!” almost shouted the old man, jumping up +in wrath. “Ay, d—n him, I heard of him. What do you think? The two +chicks had been with me some eighteen months, long enough for me to learn to +love them with all my heart, when one fine morning, as I was seeing about the +new kraal wall, I saw a fellow come riding up on an old raw-boned grey horse. +Up he comes to me, and as he came I looked at him, and said to myself, +‘You are a drunkard you are, and a rogue, it’s written on your +face, and, what’s more, I know your face.’ You see I did not guess +that it was a son of my own father that I was looking at. How should I? +</p> + +<p> +“‘Is your name Croft?’ he said. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Ay,’ I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“‘So is mine,’ he went on with a sort of drunken leer. +‘I’m your brother.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Are you?’ I said, beginning to get my back up, for I +guessed what his game was, ‘and what may you be after? I tell you at +once, and to your face, that if you are my brother you are a blackguard, and I +don’t want to know you or have anything to do with you; and if you are +not, I beg your pardon for coupling you with such a scoundrel.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh, that’s your tune, is it?’ he said with a sneer. +‘Well, now, my dear brother Silas, I want my children. They have got a +little half-brother at home—for I have married again, Silas—who is +anxious to have them to play with, so if you will be so good as to hand them +over, I’ll take them away at once.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘You’ll take them away, will you?’ said I, all of a +tremble with rage and fear. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Yes, Silas, I will. They are mine by law, and I am not going to +breed children for you to have the comfort of their society. I’ve taken +advice, Silas, and that’s sound law,’ and he leered at me again. +</p> + +<p> +“I stood and looked at that man, and thought of how he had treated those +poor children and their young mother, and my blood boiled, and I grew mad. +Without another word I jumped over the half-finished wall, and caught him by +the leg (for I was a strong man ten years ago) and jerked him off the horse. As +he came down he dropped the <i>sjambock</i> from his hand, and I laid hold of +it and then and there gave him the soundest hiding a man ever had. Lord, how he +did holloa! When I was tired I let him get up. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Now,’ I said, ‘be off with you, and if you come back +here I’ll bid the Kafirs hunt you to Natal with their sticks. This is the +South African Republic, and we don’t care overmuch about law here.’ +Which we didn’t in those days. +</p> + +<p> +“‘All right, Silas,’ he said, ‘all right, you shall pay +for this. I’ll have those children, and, for your sake, I’ll make +their lives a hell—you mark my words—South African Republic or no +South African Republic. I’ve got the law on my side.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Off he rode, cursing and swearing, and I flung his <i>sjambock</i> after +him. This was the first and last time that I saw my brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“What became of him?” asked John Niel. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you, just to show you again that there is a Power which +keeps such men in its eye. He rode back to Newcastle that night, and went about +the canteen there abusing me, and getting drunker and drunker, till at last the +canteen keeper sent for his boys to turn him out. Well, the boys were rough, as +Kafirs are apt to be with a drunken white man, and he struggled and fought, and +in the middle of it the blood began to run from his mouth, and he dropped down +dead of a broken blood-vessel, and there was an end of him. That is the story +of the two girls, Captain Niel, and now I am off to bed. To-morrow I’ll +show you round the farm, and we will have a talk about business. Good-night to +you, Captain Niel. Good-night!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III.<br/> +MR. FRANK MULLER</h2> + +<p> +John Niel woke early the next morning, feeling as sore and stiff as though he +had been well beaten and then wrapped up tight in horse-girths. He made shift, +however, to dress himself, and then, with the help of a stick, limped through +the French windows that opened from his room on to the verandah, and surveyed +the scene before him. It was a delightful spot. At the back of the stead was +the steep boulder-strewn face of the flat-topped hill that curved round on each +side, embosoming a great slope of green, in the lap of which the house was +placed. It was very solidly built of brown stone, and, with the exception of +the waggon-shed and other outbuildings which were roofed with galvanised iron, +that shone and glistened in the rays of the morning sun in a way that would +have made an eagle blink, was covered with rich brown thatch. All along its +front ran a wide verandah, up the trellis-work of which green vines and +blooming creepers trailed pleasantly, and beyond was the broad carriage-drive +of red soil, bordered with bushy orange-trees laden with odorous flowers and +green and golden fruit. On the farther side of the orange-trees were the +gardens, fenced in with low walls of rough stone, and the orchard planted with +standard fruit-trees, and beyond these again the oxen and ostrich kraals, the +latter full of long-necked birds. To the right of the house grew thriving +plantations of blue-gum and black wattle, and to the left was a broad stretch +of cultivated lands, lying so that they could be irrigated for winter crops by +means of water led from the great spring that gushed out of the mountain-side +high above the house, and gave its name of Mooifontein to the place. +</p> + +<p> +All these and many more things John Niel saw as he looked out from the verandah +at Mooifontein, but for the moment at any rate they were lost in the wild and +wonderful beauty of the panorama that rolled away for miles and miles at his +feet, till it was bounded by the mighty range of the Drakensberg to the left, +tipped here and there with snow, and by the dim and vast horizon of the +swelling Transvaal plains to the right and far in front of him. It was a +beautiful sight, and one to make the blood run in a man’s veins, and his +heart beat happily because he was alive to see it. Mile upon mile of +grass-clothed veldt beneath, bending and rippling like a corn-field in the +quick breath of the morning, space upon space of deep-blue sky overhead with +ne’er a cloud to dim it, and the swift rush of the wind between. Then to +the left there, impressive to look on and conducive to solemn thoughts, the +mountains rear their crests against the sky, and, crowned with the gathered +snows of the centuries whose monuments they are, from aeon to aeon gaze +majestically out over the wide plains and the ephemeral ant-like races who +tread them, and while they endure think themselves the masters of their little +world. And over all—mountain, plain, and flashing stream—the +glorious light of the African sun and the Spirit of Life moving now as it once +moved upon the darkling waters. +</p> + +<p> +John stood and gazed at the untamed beauty of the scene, in his mind comparing +it to many cultivated prospects which he had known, and coming to the +conclusion that, however desirable the presence of civilised man might be in +the world, it could not be said that his operations really add to its beauty. +For the old line, “Nature unadorned adorned the most,” still +remains true in more senses than one. +</p> + +<p> +Presently his reflections were interrupted by the step of Silas Croft, which, +notwithstanding his age and bent frame, still rang firm enough—and he +turned to greet him. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Captain Niel,” said the old man, “up already! It looks +well if you mean to take to farming. Yes, it’s a pretty view, and a +pretty place too. Well, I made it. Twenty-five years ago I rode up here and saw +this spot. Look, you see that rock there behind the house? I slept under it and +woke at sunrise and looked out at this beautiful scene and at the great veldt +(it was all alive with game then), and I said to myself, ‘Silas, for +five-and-twenty years have you wandered about this great country, and now you +are getting tired of it; you’ve never seen a fairer spot than this or a +healthier; be a wise man and stop here.’ And so I did. I bought the 3,000 +<i>morgen</i> (6,000 acres), more or less, for 10 pounds down and a case of +gin, and I set to work to make this place, and you see I have made it. Ay, it +has grown under my hand, every stone and tree of it, and you know what that +means in a new country. But one way or another I have done it, and now I have +grown too old to manage it, and that’s how I came to give out that I +wanted a partner, as Mr. Snow told you down in Durban. You see, I told Snow it +must be a gentleman; I don’t care much about the money, I’ll take a +thousand for a third share if I can get a gentleman—none of your Boers or +mean whites for me. I tell you I have had enough of Boers and their ways; the +best day of my life was when old Shepstone ran up the Union Jack there in +Pretoria and I could call myself an Englishman once more. Lord! and to think +that there are men who are subjects of the Queen and want to be subjects of a +Republic again—Mad! Captain Niel, I tell you, quite mad! However, +there’s an end of it all now. You know what Sir Garnet Wolseley told them +in the name of the Queen up at the Vaal River, that this country would remain +English until the sun stood still in the heavens and the waters of the Vaal ran +backwards.[*] That’s good enough for me, for, as I tell these grumbling +fellows who want the land back now that we have paid their debts and defeated +their enemies, no English government is false to its word, or breaks +engagements solemnly entered into by its representatives. We leave that sort of +thing to foreigners. No, no, Captain Niel, I would not ask you to take a share +in this place if I wasn’t sure that it would remain under the British +flag. But we will talk of all this another time, and now come in to +breakfast.” +</p> + +<p> +[*] A fact.—Author. +</p> + +<p> +After breakfast, as John was far too lame to walk about the farm, the fair +Bessie suggested that he should come and help her to wash a batch of ostrich +feathers, and, accordingly, off he went. The <i>locus operandi</i> was in a +space of lawn at the rear of a little clump of <i>naatche</i> orange-trees, of +which the fruit is like that of the Maltese orange, only larger. Here were +placed an ordinary washing-tub half-filled with warm water, and a tin bath full +of cold. The ostrich feathers, many of which were completely coated with red +dirt, were plunged first into the tub of warm water, where John Niel scrubbed +them with soap, and then transferred to the tin bath, where Bessie rinsed them +and laid them on a sheet in the sun to dry. The morning was very pleasant, and +John soon came to the conclusion that there are many more disagreeable +occupations in the world than the washing of ostrich feathers with a lovely +girl to help you. For there was no doubt but that Bessie was lovely, looking a +very type of happy, healthy womanhood as she sat opposite to him on the little +stool, her sleeves rolled up almost to the shoulder, showing a pair of arms +that would not have disgraced a statue of Venus, and laughed and chatted away +as she washed the feathers. Now, John Niel was not a susceptible man: he had +gone through the fire years before and burnt his fingers like many another +confiding youngster but, all the same, he did wonder as he knelt there and +watched this fair girl, who somehow reminded him of a rich rosebud bursting +into bloom, how long it would be possible to live in the same house with her +without falling under the spell of her charm and beauty. Then he began to think +of Jess, and of what a strange contrast the two were. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is your sister?” he asked presently. +</p> + +<p> +“Jess? Oh, I think that she has gone to the Lion Kloof, reading or +sketching, I don’t know which. You see in this establishment I represent +labour and Jess represents intellect,” and she nodded her head prettily +at him, and added, “There is a mistake somewhere, she got all the +brains.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said John quietly, and looking up at her, “I +don’t think that you are entitled to complain of the way in which Nature +has treated you.” +</p> + +<p> +She blushed a little, more at the tone of his voice than the words, and went on +hastily, “Jess is the dearest, best, and cleverest woman in the whole +world—there. I believe that she has only one fault, and it is that she +thinks too much about me. Uncle said that he had told you how we came here +first when I was eight years old. Well, I remember that when we lost our way on +the veldt that night, and it rained so and was so cold, Jess took off her own +shawl and wrapped it round me over my own. Well, it has been just like that +with her always. I am always to have the shawl—everything is to give way +to me. But there, that is Jess all over; she is very cold, cold as a stone I +sometimes think, but when she does care for anybody it is enough to frighten +one. I don’t know a great number of women, but somehow I do not think +that there can be many in the world like Jess. She is too good for this place; +she ought to go away to England and write books and become a famous woman, +only——” she added reflectively, “I am afraid that +Jess’s books would all be sad ones.” +</p> + +<p> +Just then Bessie stopped talking and suddenly changed colour, the bunch of lank +wet feathers she held in her hand dropping from it with a little splash back +into the bath. Following her glance, John looked down the avenue of blue-gum +trees and perceived a big man with a broad hat and mounted on a splendid black +horse, cantering leisurely towards the house. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is that, Miss Croft?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a man I don’t like,” she said with a little stamp of +her foot. “His name is Frank Muller, and he is half a Boer and half an +Englishman. He is very rich, and very clever, and owns all the land round this +place, so uncle has to be civil to him, though he does not like him either. I +wonder what he wants now.” +</p> + +<p> +On came the horse, and John thought that its rider was going to pass without +seeing them, when suddenly the movement of Bessie’s dress between the +<i>naatche</i> trees caught his eye, and he pulled up and looked round. He was +a large and exceedingly handsome man, apparently about forty years old, with +clear-cut features, cold, light-blue eyes, and a remarkable golden beard that +hung down over his chest. For a Boer he was rather smartly dressed in +English-made tweed clothes, and tall riding-boots. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Miss Bessie,” he called out in English, “there you are, +with your pretty arms all bare. I’m in luck to be just in time to see +them. Shall I come and help you to wash the feathers? Only say the word, +now——” +</p> + +<p> +Just then he caught sight of John Niel, checked himself, and added: +</p> + +<p> +“I have come to look for a black ox, branded with a heart and a +‘W’ inside of the heart. Do you know if your uncle has seen it on +the place anywhere?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, <i>Meinheer</i> Muller,” replied Bessie, coldly, “but he +is down there,” pointing at a kraal on the plain some half-mile away, +“if you want to go and ask about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Mr.</i> Muller,” said he, by way of correction, and with a +curious contraction of the brow. “‘<i>Meinheer</i>’ is very +well for the Boers, but we are all Englishmen now. Well, the ox can wait. With +your permission, I’ll stop here till <i>Oom</i> Croft (Uncle Croft) comes +back,” and, without further ado, he jumped off his horse and, slipping +the reins over its head as an indication to it to stand still, advanced towards +Bessie with an outstretched hand. As he came the young lady plunged both her +arms up to the elbow in the bath, and it struck John, who was observing the +scene closely, that she did this in order to avoid the necessity of shaking +hands with her stalwart visitor. +</p> + +<p> +“Sorry my hands are wet,” she said, giving him a cold little nod. +“Let me introduce you, Mr. (with emphasis) Frank Muller—Captain +Niel—who has come to help my uncle with the place.” +</p> + +<p> +John stretched out his hand and Muller shook it. +</p> + +<p> +“Captain,” he said interrogatively—“a ship captain, I +suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said John, “a Captain of the English Army.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, a <i>rooibaatje</i> (red jacket). Well, I don’t wonder at your +taking to farming after the Zulu war.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t quite understand you,” said John, rather coldly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no offence, Captain, no offence. I only meant that you +<i>rooibaatjes</i> did not come very well out of that war. I was there with +Piet Uys, and it was a sight, I can tell you. A Zulu had only to show himself +at night and one would see your regiments <i>skreck</i> (stampede) like a span +of oxen when they wind a lion. And then they’d fire—ah, they did +fire—anyhow, anywhere, but mostly at the clouds, there was no stopping +them; and so, you see, I thought that you would like to turn your sword into a +ploughshare, as the Bible says—but no offence, I’m sure—no +offence.” +</p> + +<p> +All this while John Niel, being English to his backbone, and cherishing the +reputation of his profession almost as dearly as his own honour, was boiling +with inward wrath, which was all the fiercer because he knew there was some +truth in the Boer’s insults. He had the sense, however, to keep his +temper—outwardly, at any rate. +</p> + +<p> +“I was not in the Zulu war, Mr. Muller,” he said, and just then old +Silas Croft rode up, and the conversation dropped. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Frank Muller stopped to dinner and far on into the afternoon, for his lost +ox seemed to have entirely slipped his memory. There he sat close to the fair +Bessie, smoking and drinking gin-water, and talking with great volubility in +English sprinkled with Boer-Dutch terms that John Niel did not understand, and +gazing at the young lady in a manner which John somehow found unpleasant. Of +course it was no affair of his, and he had no interest in the matter, but for +all that he thought this remarkable-looking Dutchman exceedingly disagreeable. +At last, indeed, he could bear it no longer, and hobbled out for a little walk +with Jess, who, in her abrupt way, offered to show him the garden. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t like that man?” she said to him, as they went +slowly down the slope in front of the house. +</p> + +<p> +“No; do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” replied Jess quietly, but with much emphasis, +“that he is the most odious man I ever saw—and the most +curious.” Then she relapsed into silence, only broken now and again by an +occasional remark about the flowers and trees. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour afterwards, when they arrived again at the top of the slope, Mr. +Muller was just riding off down the avenue of blue gums. By the verandah stood +a Hottentot named Jantje, who had been holding the Dutchman’s horse. He +was a curious, wizened-up little fellow, dressed in rags, and with hair like +the worn tags of a black woollen carpet. His age might have been anything +between twenty-five and sixty; it was impossible to form any opinion on the +point. Just now, however, his yellow monkey face was convulsed with an +expression of intense malignity, and he was standing there in the sunshine +cursing rapidly beneath his breath in Dutch, and shaking his fist after the +form of the retreating Boer—a very epitome of impotent but overmastering +passion. +</p> + +<p> +“What is he doing?” asked John. +</p> + +<p> +Jess laughed, and answered, “Jantje does not like Frank Muller any more +than I do, but I don’t know why. He will never tell me.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br/> +BESSIE IS ASKED IN MARRIAGE</h2> + +<p> +In due course John Niel recovered from his sprained ankle and the other +injuries inflicted on him by the infuriated cock ostrich (it is, by the way, a +humiliating thing to be knocked out of time by a feathered fowl), and set to +work to learn the routine of farm life. He did not find this a disagreeable +task, especially when he had so fair an instructress as Bessie, who knew all +about it, to show him the way in which he should go. Naturally of an energetic +and hard-working temperament, he very soon fell more or less into the swing of +the thing, and at the end of six weeks began to talk quite learnedly of cattle +and ostriches and sweet and sour veldt. About once a week or so Bessie used to +put him through a regular examination as to his progress; also she gave him +lessons in Dutch and Zulu, both of which tongues she spoke to perfection; so it +will be seen that John did not lack for pleasant and profitable employment. +Also, as time went on he grew much attached to Silas Croft. The old gentleman, +with his handsome, honest face, his large and varied stock of experience and +his sturdy English character, made a great impression on his mind. He had never +met a man quite like him before. Nor was this friendship unreciprocated, for +his host took a wonderful fancy to John Niel. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, my dear,” he explained to his niece Bessie, “he is +quiet, and he doesn’t know much about farming, but he’s willing to +learn, and such a gentleman. Now, where one has Kafirs to deal with, as on a +place like this, you must have a <i>gentleman</i>. Your mean white will never +get anything out of a Kafir; that’s why the Boers kill them and flog +them, because they can’t get anything out of them without. But you see +Captain Niel gets on well enough with the ‘boys.’ I think +he’ll do, my dear, I think he’ll do,” and Bessie quite agreed +with him. And so it came to pass that after this six weeks’ trial the +bargain was struck finally, and John paid over his thousand pounds, becoming +the owner of a third interest in Mooifontein. +</p> + +<p> +Now it is not possible, in a general way, for a man of John Niel’s age to +live in the same house with a young and lovely woman like Bessie Croft without +running more or less risk of entanglement. Especially is this so when the two +people have little or no outside society or distraction to divert their +attention from each other. Not that there was, at any rate as yet, the +slightest hint of affection between them. Only they liked one another very +much, and found it pleasant to be a good deal together. In short, they were +walking along that easy, winding road which leads to the mountain paths of +love. It is a very broad road, like another road that runs elsewhere, and, also +like this last, it has a wide gate. Sometimes, too, it leads to destruction. +But for all that it is a most agreeable one to follow hand-in-hand, winding as +it does through the pleasant meadows of companionship. The view is rather +limited, it is true, and homelike—full of familiar things. There stand +the kine, knee-deep in grass; there runs the water; and there grows the corn. +Also you can stop if you like. By-and-by it is different. By-and-by, when the +travellers tread the heights of passion, precipices will yawn and torrents +rush, lightnings will fall and storms will blind; and who can know that they +shall attain at last to that far-off peak, crowned with the glory of a perfect +peace which men call Happiness? There are those who say it never can be +reached, and that the halo which rests upon its slopes is no earthly light, but +rather, as it were, a promise and a beacon—a glow reflected whence we +know not, and lying on this alien earth as the sun’s light lies on the +dead bosom of the moon. Some declare, again, that they have climbed its topmost +pinnacle and tasted of the fresh breath of heaven which sweeps around its +heights—ay, and heard the quiring of immortal harps and the swan-like +sigh of angels’ wings; and then behold! a mist has fallen upon them, and +they have wandered in it, and when it cleared they were on the mountain paths +once more, and the peak was far away. And a few there are who tell us that they +live there always, listening to the voice of God; but these are old and worn +with journeying—men and women who have outlived passions and ambitions +and the fire heats of love, and who now, girt about with memories, stand face +to face with the sphinx Eternity. +</p> + +<p> +But John Niel was no chicken, nor very likely to fall in love with the first +pretty face he met. He had once, years ago, gone through that melancholy stage, +and there, he thought, was an end of it. Moreover, if Bessie attracted him, so +did Jess in a different way. Before he had been a week in the house he came to +the conclusion that Jess was the strangest woman he had ever met, and in her +own fashion one of the most attractive. Her very impassiveness added to her +charm; for who is there in this world who is not eager to learn a secret? To +him Jess was a riddle of which he did not know the key. That she was clever and +well-informed he soon discovered from her rare remarks; that she could sing +like an angel he also knew; but what was the mainspring of her mind—round +what axis did it revolve—this was the puzzle. Clearly enough it was not +like most women’s, least of all like that of happy, healthy, +plain-sailing Bessie. So curious did he become to fathom these mysteries that +he took every opportunity to associate with her, and, when he had time, would +even go out with her on her sketching, or rather flower-painting, expeditions. +On these occasions she would sometimes begin to talk, but it was always about +books, or England or some intellectual question. She never spoke of herself. +</p> + +<p> +Yet it soon became evident to John that she liked his society, and missed him +when he did not come. It never occurred to him what a boon it was to a girl of +considerable intellectual attainments, and still greater intellectual +capacities and aspirations, to be thrown for the first time into the society of +a cultivated and intelligent gentleman. John Niel was no empty-headed, +one-sided individual. He had both read and thought, and even written a little, +and in him Jess found a mind which, though of an inferior stamp, was more or +less kindred to her own. Although he did not understand her she understood him, +and at last, had he but known it, there rose a far-off dawning light upon the +twilight of her heart that thrilled and changed it as the first faint rays of +morning thrill and change the darkness of the night. What if she should learn +to love this man, and teach him to love her? To most women such a thought more +or less involves the idea of marriage, and that change of status which for the +most part they consider desirable. But Jess did not think much of that: what +she did think of was the blessed possibility of being able to lay down her +life, as it were, in the life of another—of at last finding somebody who +understood her and whom she could understand, who would cut the shackles that +bound down the wings of her genius, so that she could rise and bear him with +her as, in Bulwer Lytton’s beautiful story, Zoe would have borne her +lover. Here at length was a man who <i>understood</i>, who was something more +than an animal, and who possessed the god-like gift of brains, the gift that +had been a curse rather than a blessing to her, lifting her above the level of +her sex and shutting her off as by iron doors from the comprehension of those +around her. Ah! if only this perfect love of which she had read so much would +come to him and her, life might perhaps grow worth the living. +</p> + +<p> +It is a curious thing, but in such matters most men never learn wisdom from +experience. A man of John Niel’s age might have guessed that it is +dangerous work playing with explosives, and that the quietest, most +harmless-looking substances are sometimes the most explosive. He might have +known that to set to work to cultivate the society of a woman with such +tell-tale eyes as Jess’s was to run the risk of catching the fire from +them himself, to say nothing of setting her alight: he might have known that to +bring all the weight of his cultivated mind to bear on her mind, to take the +deepest interest in her studies, to implore her to let him see the poetry +Bessie told him she wrote, but which she would show to no living soul, and to +evince the most evident delight in her singing, were one and all hazardous +things to do. Yet he did them and thought no harm. +</p> + +<p> +As for Bessie, she was delighted that her sister should have found anybody to +whom she cared to talk or who could understand her. It never occurred to her +that Jess might fall in love. Jess was the last person to fall in love. Nor did +she calculate what the results might be to John. As yet, at any rate, she had +no interest in Captain Niel—of course not. +</p> + +<p> +And so things went on pleasantly enough to all concerned in this drama till one +fine day when the storm-clouds began to gather. John had been about the farm as +usual till dinner time, after which he took his gun and told Jantje to saddle +up his shooting pony. He was standing on the verandah, waiting for the pony to +appear, and by him was Bessie, looking particularly attractive in a white +dress, when suddenly he caught sight of Frank Muller’s great black horse, +and upon it that gentleman himself, cantering up the avenue of blue gums. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, Miss Bessie,” he said, “here comes your +friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bother!” said Bessie, stamping her foot; and then, with a quick +look, “Why do you call him my friend?” +</p> + +<p> +“I imagine that he considers himself so, to judge from the number of +times a week he comes to see you,” John answered with a shrug. “At +any rate, he isn’t mine, so I am off shooting. Good-bye. I hope that you +will enjoy yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are not kind,” she said in a low voice, turning her back upon +him. +</p> + +<p> +In another moment he was gone, and Frank Muller had arrived. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do, Miss Bessie?” he said, jumping from his horse with +the rapidity of a man who had been accustomed to rough riding all his life. +“Where is the <i>rooibaatje</i> off to?” +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Niel is going out shooting,” she said coldly. +</p> + +<p> +“So much the better for you and me, Miss Bessie. We can have a pleasant +talk. Where is that black monkey Jantje? Here, Jantje, take my horse, you ugly +devil, and mind you look after him, or I’ll cut the liver out of +you!” +</p> + +<p> +Jantje took the horse, with a forced grin of appreciation at the joke, and led +him off to the stable. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think that Jantje likes you, <i>Meinheer</i> +Muller,” said Bessie, spitefully, “and I do not wonder at it if you +talk to him like that. He told me the other day that he had known you for +twenty years,” and she looked at him inquiringly. +</p> + +<p> +This casual remark produced a strange effect on her visitor, who turned colour +beneath his tanned skin. +</p> + +<p> +“He lies, the black hound,” he said, “and I’ll put a +bullet through him if he says it again! What should I know about him, or he +about me? Can I keep count of every miserable man-monkey I meet?” and he +muttered a string of Dutch oaths into his long beard. +</p> + +<p> +“Really, <i>Meinheer!</i>” said Bessie. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you always call me ‘<i>Meinheer</i>’?” he +asked, turning so fiercely on her that she started back a step. “I tell +you I am not a Boer. I am an Englishman. My mother was English; and besides, +thanks to Lord Carnarvon, we are all English now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see why you should mind being thought a Boer,” she +said coolly: “there are some very good people among the Boers, and +besides, you used to be a great ‘patriot.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Used to be—yes; and so the trees used to bend to the north when +the wind blew that way, but now they bend to the south, for the wind has +turned. By-and-by it may set to the north again—that is another +matter—then we shall see.” +</p> + +<p> +Bessie made no answer beyond pursing up her pretty mouth and slowly picking a +leaf from the vine that trailed overhead. +</p> + +<p> +The big Dutchman took off his hat and stroked his beard perplexedly. Evidently +he was meditating something that he was afraid to say. Twice he fixed his cold +eyes on Bessie’s fair face, and twice looked down again. The second time +she took alarm. +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me one minute,” she said, and made as though to enter the +house. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Wacht een beeche</i>” (wait a bit), he ejaculated, breaking +into Dutch in his agitation, and even catching hold of her white dress with his +big hand. +</p> + +<p> +Drawing the dress from him with a quick twist of her lithe form, she turned and +faced him. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon,” she said, in a tone that could not be called +encouraging: “you were going to say something.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—ah, that is—I was going to say——” and +he paused. +</p> + +<p> +Bessie stood with a polite look of expectation on her face, and waited. +</p> + +<p> +“I was going to say—that, in short, that I want to marry +you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” exclaimed Bessie with a start. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” he went on hoarsely, his words gathering force as he +spoke, as is the way even with uncultured people when they speak from the +heart. “Listen! I love you, Bessie; I have loved you for three years. +Every time I have seen you I have loved you more. Don’t say me +nay—you don’t know how I do love you. I dream of you every night; +sometimes I dream that I hear your dress rustling, then you come and kiss me, +and it is like being in heaven.” +</p> + +<p> +Here Bessie made a gesture of disgust. +</p> + +<p> +“There, I have offended you, but don’t be angry with me. I am very +rich, Bessie; there is the place here, and then I have four farms in Lydenburg +and ten thousand <i>morgen</i> up in Waterberg, and a thousand head of cattle, +besides sheep and horses and money in the bank. You shall have everything your +own way,” he went on, seeing that the inventory of his goods did not +appear to impress her—“everything—the house shall be English +fashion; I will build a new <i>sit-kammer</i> (sitting-room) and it shall be +furnished from Natal. There, I love you, I say. You won’t say no, will +you?” and he caught her by the hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Muller,” answered Bessie, +snatching away her hand, “but—in short, I cannot marry you. No, it +is no use, I cannot indeed. There, please say no more—here comes my +uncle. Forget all about it, Mr. Muller.” +</p> + +<p> +Her suitor looked up; there was old Silas Croft sure enough, but he was some +way off, and walking slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean it?” he said beneath his breath. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, of course I mean it. Why do you force me to repeat it?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is that damned <i>rooibaatje</i>,” he broke out. “You +used not to be like this before. Curse him, the white-livered Englishman! I +will be even with him yet; and I tell you what it is, Bessie: you shall marry +me, whether you like or no. Look here, do you think I am the sort of man to +play with? You go to Wakkerstroom and ask what sort of a man Frank Muller is. +See! I want you—I must have you. I could not live if I thought that I +should never get you for myself. And I tell you I will do it. I don’t +care of it costs me my life, and your <i>rooibaatje’s</i> too. I’ll +do it if I have to stir up a revolt against the Government. There, I swear it +by God or by the Devil, it’s all one to me!” And growing +inarticulate with passion, he stood before her clinching and unclinching his +great hand, and his lips trembling. +</p> + +<p> +Bessie was very frightened; but she was a brave woman, and rose to the +emergency. +</p> + +<p> +“If you go on talking like that,” she said, “I shall call my +uncle. I tell you that I will not marry you, Frank Muller, and that nothing +shall ever make me marry you. I am very sorry for you, but I have not +encouraged you, and I will never marry you—never!” +</p> + +<p> +He stood for half a minute or so looking at her, and then burst into a savage +laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“I think that some day or other I shall find a way to make you,” +Muller said, and turning, he went without another word. +</p> + +<p> +A couple of minutes later Bessie heard the sound of a horse galloping, and +looking up she saw her wooer’s powerful form vanishing down the vista of +blue gums. Also she heard somebody crying out as though in pain at the back of +the house, and, more to relieve her mind than for any other reason, she went to +see what it was. By the stable door she found the Hottentot Jantje, shrieking, +cursing and twisting round and round, his hand pressed to his side, from which +the blood was running. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Baas Frank!” he answered—“Baas Frank hit me with his +whip!” +</p> + +<p> +“The brute!” said Bessie, the tears starting to her eyes with +anger. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, missie, never mind,” gasped the Hottentot, his ugly +face growing livid with fury, “it is only one more to me. I cut it on +this stick”—and he held up a long thick stick he carried, on which +were several notches, including three deep ones at the top just below the knob. +“Let him look out sharp—let him search the grass—let him +creep round the bush—let him watch as he will, one day he will find +Jantje, and Jantje will find him!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did Frank Muller gallop away like that?” asked her uncle of +Bessie when she got back to the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +“We had some words,” she answered shortly, not seeing the use of +explaining matters to the old man. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, indeed, indeed. Well, be careful, my love. It’s ill to quarrel +with a man like Frank Muller. I’ve known him for many years, and he has a +black heart when he is crossed. You see, my love, you can deal with a Boer and +you can deal with an Englishman, but cross-bred dogs are hard to handle. Take +my advice, and make it up with Frank Muller.” +</p> + +<p> +All of which sage advice did not tend to raise Bessie’s spirits, that +were already sufficiently depressed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V.<br/> +DREAMS ARE FOOLISHNESS</h2> + +<p> +When, at the approach of Frank Muller, John Niel left Bessie on the verandah, +he had taken his gun, and, having whistled to the pointer dog Pontac, he +mounted his shooting pony and started in quest of partridges. On the warm +slopes of the hills round Wakkerstroom a large species of partridge is very +abundant, particularly in the patches of red grass with which the slopes are +sometimes clothed. It is a merry sound to hear these birds calling from all +directions just after daybreak, and one to make the heart of every true +sportsman rejoice exceedingly. On leaving the house John proceeded up the side +of the hill behind it—his pony picking its way carefully between the +stones, and the dog Pontac ranging about two or three hundred yards off, for in +this sort of country it is necessary to have a dog with a wide range. Presently +seeing him stop under a mimosa thorn and suddenly stiffen out as if he had been +petrified, John made the best of his way towards him. Pontac stood still for a +few seconds, and then slowly and deliberately veered his head round as though +it worked on a hinge to see if his master was coming. John knew his ways. Three +times would that remarkable old dog look round thus, and if the gun had not +then arrived he would to a certainty run in and flush the birds. This was a +rule that he never broke, for his patience had a fixed limit. On this occasion, +however, John arrived before it was reached, and, jumping off his pony, cocked +his gun and marched slowly up, full of happy expectation. On drew the dog, his +eye cold and fixed, saliva dropping from his mouth, and his head, on which was +frozen an extraordinary expression of instinctive ferocity, outstretched to its +utmost limit. +</p> + +<p> +Pontac was under the mimosa thorn now and up to his belly in the warm red +grass. Where could the birds be? <i>Whirr!</i> and a great feathered shell +seemed to have burst at his very feet. What a covey! twelve brace if there was +a bird, and they had all been lying beak to beak in a space no bigger than a +cart wheel. Up went John’s gun and off too, a little sooner than it +should have done. +</p> + +<p> +“Missed him clean! Now then for the left barrel.” Same result. We +will draw a veil over the profanity that ensued. A minute later and it was all +over, and John and Pontac were regarding each other with mutual contempt and +disgust. +</p> + +<p> +“It was all you, you brute,” said John to Pontac. “I thought +you were going to run in, and you hurried me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ugh!” said Pontac to John, or at least he looked it. “Ugh! +you disgusting bad shot. What is the good of pointing for you? It’s +enough to make a dog sick.” +</p> + +<p> +The covey—or rather the collection of old birds, for this kind of +partridge sometimes “packs” just before the breeding +season—had scattered all about the place. It was not long before Pontac +found some of them, and this time John got one bird—a beautiful great +partridge he was too, with yellow legs—and missed another. Again Pontac +pointed, and a brace rose. Bang! down goes one; bang with the other barrel. +Caught him, by Jove, just as he topped the stone. Hullo! Pontac is still on the +point. Slip in two more cartridges. Oh, a leash this time! bang! bang! and down +come a brace of them—two brace of partridges without moving a yard. +</p> + +<p> +Life has joys for all men, but, I verily believe, it has no joy to compare to +that of the moderate shot and earnest sportsman when he has just killed half a +dozen driven partridges without a miss, or ten rocketing pheasants with eleven +cartridges, or, better still, a couple of woodcock right and left. Sweet to the +politician are the cheers that announce the triumph of his cause and of +himself; sweet to the desponding writer is the unexpected public recognition by +reviewers of talents with which previously nobody had been much impressed; +sweet to all men are the light of women’s eyes and the touch of +women’s lips. But though he have experienced all these things, to the +true sportsman and the <i>moderate shot</i>, sweeter far is it to see the +arched wings of the driven bird bent like Cupid’s bow come flashing fast +towards him, to feel the touch of the stock as it fits itself against his +shoulder, and the kindly give of the trigger, and then, oh thrilling sight! to +perceive the wonderful and yet awful change from life to death, the puff of +feathers, and the hurtling passage of the dull mass borne onward by its own +force to fall twenty yards from where the pellets struck it. Next session the +politician will be hooted down, next year perhaps the reviewers will cut the +happy writer to ribbons and decorate their journals with his fragments, next +week you will have wearied of those dear smiles, or, more likely still, they +will be bestowed elsewhere. Vanity of vanities, my son, each and all of them! +But if you are a true sportsman (yes, even though you be but a moderate shot), +it will always be a glorious thing to go out shooting, and when you chance to +shoot well earth holds no such joy as that which will glow in your honest +breast (for all sportsmen are honest), and it remains to be proved if heaven +does either. It is a grand sport, though the pity of it is that it should be a +cruel one. +</p> + +<p> +Such was the paean that John sang in his heart as he contemplated those fine +partridges before lovingly transferring them to his bag. But his luck to-day +was not destined to stop at partridges, for hardly had he ridden over the edge +of the boulder-strewn side, and on to the flat table-top of the great hill +which covered some five hundred acres of land, before he perceived, emerging +from the shelter of a tuft of grass about a hundred and seventy yards away, +nothing less than the tall neck and whiskered head of a large <i>pauw</i> or +bustard. +</p> + +<p> +Now it is quite useless to try and ride straight up to a bustard, and this he +knew. The only thing to do is to excite his curiosity and fix his attention by +moving round and round him in an ever-narrowing circle. Putting his pony to a +canter, John proceeded to do this with a heart beating with excitement. Round +and round he went; the <i>pauw</i> had vanished now, he was squatting in the +tuft of grass. The last circle brought him to within seventy yards, and he did +not dare to ride any nearer, so jumping off his pony he ran in towards the bird +as hard as he could go. When he had covered ten paces the <i>pauw</i> was +rising, but they are heavy birds, and he was within forty yards before it was +fairly on the wing. Then he pulled up and fired both barrels of No. 4 into it. +Down it came, and, incautious man, he rushed forward in triumph without +reloading his gun. Already was his hand outstretched to seize the prize, when, +behold! the great wings spread themselves out and the bird was flying away. +John stood dancing upon the veldt, but observing that it settled within a +couple of hundred yards, he ran back, mounted his pony, and pursued it. As he +drew near it rose again, and flew this time a hundred yards only, and so it +went on till at last he got within gun-shot of the king of birds and killed it. +</p> + +<p> +By this time he was across the mountain-top, and on the brink of the most +remarkable chasm he had ever seen. The place was known as Lion’s Kloof, +or Leeuwen Kloof in Dutch, because three lions had once been penned up by a +party of Boers and shot there. This chasm or gorge was between a quarter and +half a mile long, about six hundred feet in width, and a hundred and fifty to a +hundred and eighty feet deep. Evidently it owed its origin to the action of +running water, for at its head, just to the right of where John Niel stood, a +little stream welling from hidden springs in the flat mountain-top trickled +from stratum to stratum, forming a series of crystal pools and tiny waterfalls, +till at last it reached the bottom of the mighty gorge, and pursued its way +through it to the plains beyond, half-hidden by the umbrella-topped mimosa and +other thorns that were scattered about. Without doubt this little stream was +the parent of the ravine it trickled down and through, but, wondered John Niel, +how many centuries of patient, never-ceasing flow must have been necessary to +the vast result before him? First centuries of saturation of the soil piled on +and between the bed rocks that lay beneath it and jutted up through it, then +centuries of floods caused by rain and perhaps by melting snows, to carry away +the loosened mould; then centuries upon centuries more of flowing and of +rainfall to wash the debris clean and complete the colossal work. +</p> + +<p> +I say the rocks that jutted up through the soil, for the kloof was not clean +cut. All along its sides, and here and there in its arena, stood mighty columns +or fingers of rock, not solid indeed, but formed by huge boulders piled mason +fashion one upon another, as though the Titans of some dead age had employed +themselves in building them up, overcoming their tendency to fall by the mere +crushing weight above, that kept them steady even when the wild breath of the +storms came howling down the gorge and tried its strength against them. About a +hundred paces from the near end of the chasm, some ninety or more feet in +height, rose the most remarkable of these giant pillars, to which the remains +at Stonehenge are but as toys. It was formed of seven huge boulders, the +largest, that at the bottom, about the size of a moderate cottage, and the +smallest, that at the top, perhaps some eight or ten feet in diameter. These +boulders were rounded like a cricket-ball—evidently through the action of +water—and yet the hand of Nature had contrived to balance them, each one +smaller than that beneath, the one upon the other, and to keep them so. But +this was not always the case. For instance, a very similar mass which once +stood on the near side of the perfect pillar had fallen, all except its two +foundation stones, and the rocks that formed it lay scattered about like +monstrous petrified cannon-balls. One of these had split in two, and seated on +it, looking very small and far off at the bottom of that vast gulf, John +discovered Jess Croft, apparently engaged in sketching. +</p> + +<p> +He dismounted from his shooting pony, and looking about him perceived that it +was possible to descend by following the course of the stream and clambering +down the natural steps it had cut in its rocky bed. Throwing the reins over the +pony’s head, and leaving him with the dog Pontac to stand and stare about +him as South African shooting ponies are accustomed to do, he laid down his gun +and game and proceeded to descend, pausing every now and again to admire the +wild beauty of the scene and examine the hundred varieties of moss and ferns, +the last mostly of the maiden-hair (<i>Capillus Veneris</i>) genus, that +clothed every cranny and every rock where they could find foothold and win +refreshment from the water or the spray of the cascades. As he drew near the +bottom of the gorge he saw that on the borders of the stream, wherever the soil +was moist, grew thousands upon thousands of white arums, “pig +lilies” as they call them in Africa, which were now in full bloom. He had +noticed these lilies from above, but thence, owing to the distance, they seemed +so small that he took them for everlastings or anemones. John could not see +Jess now, for she was hidden by a bush that grows on the banks of the streams +in South Africa in low-lying land, and which at certain seasons of the year is +completely covered with masses of the most gorgeous scarlet bloom. His +footsteps fell very softly on the moss and flowers, and when he passed round +the glorious-looking bush it was evident that she had not heard him, for she +was asleep. Her hat was off, but the bush shaded her, and her head had fallen +forward over her sketching block and rested upon her hand. A ray of light that +came through the bush played over her curling brown hair, and threw warm +shadows on her white face and the whiter wrist and hand by which it was +supported. +</p> + +<p> +John stood there and looked at her, and the old curiosity took possession of +him to understand this feminine enigma. Many a man before him has been the +victim of a like desire, and lived to regret that he did not leave it +ungratified. It is not well to try to lift the curtain of the unseen, it is not +well to call to heaven to show its glory, or to hell to give us touch and +knowledge of its yawning fires. Knowledge comes soon enough; many of us will +say that knowledge has come too soon and left us desolate. There is no +bitterness like the bitterness of wisdom: so cried the great Koheleth, and so +hath cried many a son of man following blindly on his path. Let us be thankful +for the dark places of the earth—places where we may find rest and +shadow, and the heavy sweetness of the night. Seek not after mysteries, O son +of man, be content with the practical and the proved and the broad light of +day; peep not, mutter not the words of awakening. Understand her who would be +understood and is comprehensible to those that run, and for the others let them +be, lest your fate should be as the fate of Eve, and as the fate of Lucifer, +Star of the morning. For here and there beats a human heart from which it is +not wise to draw the veil—a heart in which many things are dim as +half-remembered dreams in the brain of the sleeper. Draw not the veil, whisper +not the word of life in the silence where all things sleep, lest in that +kindling breath of love and pain pale shapes arise, take form, and fright you! +</p> + +<p> +A minute or so might have passed when suddenly, and with a little start, Jess +opened her great eyes, wherein the shadow of darkness lay, and gazed at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” she said with a little tremor, “is it you or is it my +dream?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be afraid,” he answered cheerfully, “it is +I—in the flesh.” +</p> + +<p> +She covered her face with her hand for a moment, then withdrew it, and he +noticed that her eyes had changed curiously in that moment. They were still +large and beautiful as they always were, but there was a change. Just now they +had seemed as though her soul were looking through them. Doubtless it was +because the pupils had been enlarged by sleep. +</p> + +<p> +“Your dream! What dream?” he asked, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind,” she answered in a quiet way that excited his +curiosity more than ever. “It was about this Kloof—and +you—but ‘dreams are foolishness.’” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br/> +THE STORM BREAKS</h2> + +<p> +“Do you know, you are a very odd person, Miss Jess,” John said +presently, with a little laugh. “I don’t think you can have a happy +mind.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked up. “A happy mind?” she said. “Who <i>can</i> have +a happy mind? Nobody who feels. Supposing,” she went on after a +pause—“supposing one puts oneself and one’s own little +interests and joys and sorrows quite away, how is it possible to be happy, when +one feels the breath of human misery beating on one’s face, and sees the +tide of sorrow and suffering creeping up to one’s feet? You may be on a +rock yourself and out of the path of it, till the spring floods or the +hurricane wave come to sweep you away, or you may be afloat upon it: whichever +it is, it is quite impossible, if you have any heart, to be indifferent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then only the indifferent are happy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, the indifferent and the selfish; but, after all, it is the same +thing: indifference is the perfection of selfishness.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid that there must be lots of selfishness in the world, for +certainly there is plenty of happiness, all evil things notwithstanding. I +should have said that happiness springs from goodness and a sound +digestion.” +</p> + +<p> +Jess shook her head as she answered, “I may be wrong, but I don’t +see how anybody who feels can be quite happy in a world of sickness, suffering, +slaughter, and death. I saw a Kafir woman die yesterday, and her children +crying over her. She was a poor creature and had a rough lot, but she loved her +life, and her children loved her. Who can be happy and thank God for His +creation when he has just seen such a thing? But there, Captain Niel, my ideas +are very crude, and I dare say very wrong, and everybody has thought them +before: at any rate, I am not going to inflict them on you. What is the use of +it?” and she went on with a laugh: “what is the use of anything? +The same old thoughts passing through the same human minds from year to year +and century to century, just as the same clouds float across the same blue sky. +The clouds are born in the sky, and the thoughts are born in the brain, and +they both end in tears and re-arise in blind, bewildering mist, and this is the +beginning and end of thoughts and clouds. They arise out of the blue; they +overshadow and break into storms and tears, then they are drawn up into the +blue again, and the story begins afresh.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you don’t think that one can be happy in this world?” he +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I did not say that—I never said that. I do think that happiness is +possible. It is possible if one can love somebody so hard that one can quite +forget oneself and everything else except that person, and it is possible if +one can sacrifice oneself for others. There is no true happiness outside of +love and self-sacrifice, or rather outside of love, for it includes the other. +This is gold, and all the rest is gilt.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know that?” he asked quickly. “You have never +been in love.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she answered, “I have never been in love like that, but +all the happiness I have had in my life has come to me from loving. I believe +that love is the secret of the world: it is like the philosopher’s stone +they used to look for, and almost as hard to find, but if you find it it turns +everything to gold. Perhaps,” she went on with a little laugh, +“when the angels departed from the earth they left us love behind, that +by it and through it we may climb up to them again. It is the one thing that +lifts us above the brutes. Without love man is a brute, and nothing but a +brute; with love he draws near to God. When everything else falls away the love +will endure because it cannot die while there is any life, if it is true love, +for it is immortal. Only it must be true—you see it must be true.” +</p> + +<p> +He had penetrated her reserve now; the ice of her manner broke up beneath the +warmth of her words, and her face, usually impassive, had caught life and light +from the eyes above, and acquired a certain beauty of its own. John looked at +it, and understood something of the untaught and ill-regulated intensity and +depth of the nature of this curious girl. He met her eyes and they moved him +strangely, though he was not an emotional man, and was too old to experience +spasmodic thrills at the chance glances of a pretty woman. He moved towards +her, looking at her curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“It would be worth living to be loved like that,” he said, more to +himself than to her. +</p> + +<p> +Jess did not answer, but she let her eyes rest on his. Indeed, she did more, +for she put her soul into them and gazed and gazed till John Niel felt as +though he were mesmerised. And as she gazed there rose up in her breast a +knowledge that if she willed it she could gain this man’s heart and hold +it against all the world, for her nature was stronger than his nature, and her +mind, untrained though it be, encompassed his mind and could pass over it and +beat it down as the wind beats down the tossing seas. All this she learnt in a +moment, in the twinkling of an eye: she could not tell how she knew it, but she +did know it as surely as she knew that the blue sky stretched overhead, and, +what is more—for the moment, at any rate—he knew it too. This +strange strong certainty came on her as a shock and a revelation, like the +tidings of some great joy or grief, and for a moment left her heart empty of +all things else. +</p> + +<p> +Jess dropped her eyes suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” she said quietly, “that we have been talking a +great deal of nonsense, and that I want to finish my sketch.” +</p> + +<p> +He rose and left her, for he was wanted at home, saying as he went that he +thought there was a storm coming up; the air was so quiet, and the wind had +fallen as it does before an African tempest. Presently on looking round she saw +him slowly climbing the precipitous ascent to the table-land above the gulf. +</p> + +<p> +It was one of those glorious afternoons that sometimes come in the African +spring, although it was so intensely still. Everywhere appeared the proofs of +evidences of life. The winter was over, and now, from the sadness and sterility +of its withered age, sprang youth and lovely summer clad in sunshine, +bediamonded with dew, and fragrant with the breath of flowers. Jess lay back +and looked up into the infinite depths above. How blue they were, and how +measureless! She could not see the angry clouds that lay like visible omens on +the horizon. Look, there, miles above her, was one tiny circling speck. It was +a vulture, watching her from his airy heights and descending a little to see if +she were dead, or only sleeping. +</p> + +<p> +Involuntarily she shuddered. The bird of death reminded her of Death himself +also hanging high up yonder in the blue and waiting his opportunity to fall +upon the sleeper. Then her eyes fell upon a bough of the glorious flowering +bush under which she rested. It was not more than four feet above her head, but +she lay so still and motionless that a jewelled honeysucker came and hovered +over the flowers, darting from one to another like a many-coloured flash. +Thence her glance travelled to the great column of boulders that towered above +her, and that seemed to say, “I am very old. I have seen many springs and +many winters, and have looked down on many sleeping maids, and where are they +now? All dead—all dead,” and an old baboon in the rocks with +startling suddenness barked out “<i>all dead</i>” in answer. +</p> + +<p> +Around her were the blooming lilies and the lustiness of springing life; the +heavy air was sweet with the odour of ferns and the mimosa flowers. The running +water splashed and musically fell; the sunlight shot in golden bars athwart the +shade, like the memory of happy days in the grey vista of a life; away in the +cliffs yonder, the rock-doves were preparing to nest by hundreds, and waking +the silence with their cooing and the flutter of their wings. Even the grim old +eagle perched on the pinnacle of the peak was pruning himself, contentedly +happy in the knowledge that his mate had laid an egg in that dark corner of the +cliff. All things rejoiced and cried aloud that summer was at hand and that it +was time to bloom and love and nest. Soon it would be winter again, when things +died, and next summer other things would live under the sun, and these +perchance would be forgotten. That was what they seemed to say. +</p> + +<p> +And as Jess lay and heard, her youthful blood, drawn by Nature’s magnetic +force, as the moon draws the tides, rose in her veins like the sap in the +budding trees, and stirred her virginal serenity. All the bodily natural part +of her caught the tones of Nature’s happy voice that bade her break her +bonds, live and love, and be a woman. And lo! the spirit within her answered to +it, flinging wide her bosom’s doors, and of a sudden, as it were, +something quickened and lived in her heart that was of her and yet had its own +life—a life apart; something that sprang from her and another, which +would always be with her now and could never die. She rose pale and trembling, +as a woman trembles at the first stirring of the child that she shall bear, and +clung to the flowery bough of the beautiful bush above, then sank down again, +feeling that the spirit of her girlhood had departed from her, and another +angel had entered there; knowing that she loved with heart and soul and body, +and was a very woman. +</p> + +<p> +She had called to Love as the wretched call to Death, and Love had come in his +strength and possessed her utterly; and now for a little while she was afraid +to pass into the shadow of his wings, as the wretched who call to Death fear +him when they feel his icy fingers. But the fear passed, and the great joy and +the new consciousness of power and of identity that the inspiration of a true +passion gives to some strong deep natures remained, and after a while Jess +prepared to make her way home across the mountain-top, feeling as though she +were another being. Still she did not go, but lay there with closed eyes and +drank of this new intoxicating wine. So absorbed was she that she did not +notice that the doves had ceased to call, and that the eagle had fled away for +shelter. She was not aware of the great and solemn hush which had taken the +place of the merry voice of beast and bird and preceded the breaking of the +gathered storm. +</p> + +<p> +At last as she rose to go Jess opened her dark eyes, which, for the most part, +had been shut while this great change was passing over her, and with a natural +impulse turned to look once more on the place where her happiness had found +her, then sank down again with a little exclamation. Where was the light and +the glory and all the happiness of the life that moved and grew around her? +Gone, and in its place darkness and rising mist and deep and ominous shadows. +While she lay and thought, the sun had sunk behind the hill and left the great +gulf nearly dark, and, as is common in South Africa, the heavy storm-cloud had +crept across the blue sky and sealed the light from above. A drear wind came +moaning up the gorge from the plains beyond; the heavy rain-drops began to fall +one by one; the lightning flickered fitfully in the belly of the advancing +cloud. The storm that John had feared was upon her. +</p> + +<p> +Then came a dreadful hush. Jess had recovered herself by now, and, knowing what +to expect, she snatched up her sketching-block and hurried into the shelter of +a little cave hollowed by water in the side of the cliff. And now with a rush +of ice-cold air the tempest burst. Down came the rain in a sheet; then flash +upon flash gleaming fiercely through the vapour-laden air; and roar upon roar +echoing along the rocky cavities in volumes of fearful sound. Then another +pause and space of utter silence, followed by a blaze of light that dazed and +blinded her, and suddenly one of the piled-up columns to her left swayed to and +fro like a poplar in a breeze, to fall headlong with a crash which almost +mastered the awful crackling of the thunder overhead and the shrieking of the +baboons scared from their crannies in the cliff. Down it rushed beneath the +stroke of that fiery sword, the brave old pillar that had lasted out so many +centuries, sending clouds of dust and fragments high up into the blinding rain, +and carrying awe and wonder to the heart of the girl who watched its fall. Away +rolled the storm as quickly as it had come, with a sound like the passing of +the artillery of an embattled host; then a grey rain set in, blotting the +outlines of everything, like an endless absorbing grief, dulling the edge and +temper of a life. Through it Jess, scared and wet to the skin, managed to climb +up the natural steps, now made almost impassable by the prevailing gloom and +the rush of water from the table-top of the mountain, and on across the sodden +plain, down the rocky path on the farther side, past the little walled-in +cemetery with the four red gums planted at its corners, in which a stranger who +had died at Mooifontein lay buried, and so, just as the darkness of the wet +night came down like a cloud, home at last. At the back-door stood her old +uncle with a lantern. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that you, Jess?” he called out in his stentorian tones. +“Lord! what a sight!” as she emerged, her sodden dress clinging to +her slight form, her hands torn with clambering over the rocks, her curling +hair which had broken loose hanging down her back and half covering her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Lord! what a sight!” he ejaculated again. “Why, Jess, where +have you been? Captain Niel has gone out to look for you with the +Kafirs.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have been sketching in Leeuwen Kloof, and got caught in the storm. +There, uncle, let me pass, I want to take these wet things off. It is a bitter +night,” and she ran to her room, leaving a long trail of water behind her +as she passed. The old man entered the house, shut the door, and blew out the +lantern. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, what is it she reminds me of?” he said aloud as he groped his +way down the passage to the sitting-room. “Ah, I know, that night when +she first came here out of the rain leading Bessie by the hand. What can the +girl have been thinking of, not to see the thunder coming up? She ought to know +the signs of the weather here by now. Dreaming, I suppose, dreaming. +She’s an odd woman, Jess, very.” Perhaps he did not quite know how +accurate his guess was, and how true the conclusion he drew from it. Certainly +she had been dreaming, and she was an odd woman. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Jess was rapidly changing her clothes and removing the traces of her +struggle with the elements. But of that other struggle she had gone through she +could not remove the traces. They and the love that arose out of it would +endure as long as she endured. It was her former self that had been cast off in +it and which now lay behind her, an empty and unmeaning thing like the +shapeless heap of garments. It was all very strange. So John had gone to look +for her and had not found her. She was glad that he had gone. It made her happy +to think of him searching and calling in the wet and the night. She was only a +woman, and it was natural that she should feel thus. By-and-by he would come +back and find her clothed and in her right mind and ready to greet him. She was +glad that he had not seen her wet and dishevelled. A girl looks so unpleasant +like that. It might have set him against her. Men like women to look nice and +clean and pretty. That gave her an idea. She turned to her glass and, holding +the light above her head, studied her own face attentively. She was a woman +with as little vanity in her composition as it is possible for a woman to have, +and till now she had not given her personal looks much consideration. They had +not been of great importance to her in the Wakkerstroom district of the +Transvaal. But to-night all of a sudden they became very important; and so she +stood and looked at her own wonderful eyes, at the masses of curling brown hair +still damp and shining from the rain, at the curious pallid face and clear-cut +determined mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“If it were not for my eyes and hair, I should be very ugly,” she +said to herself aloud. “If only I were beautiful like Bessie, now.” +The thought of her sister gave her another idea. What if John were to prefer +Bessie? Now she remembered that he had been very attentive to Bessie. A feeling +of dreadful doubt and jealousy passed through her, for women like Jess know +what jealousy is in its bitterness. Supposing that it was in vain, supposing +that what she had given to-day—given utterly once and for all, so that +she could not take it back—had been given to a man who loved another +woman, and that woman her own dear sister! Supposing that the fate of her love +was to be like water falling unalteringly on the hard rock that heeds it not +and retains it not! True, the water wears the rock away; but could she be +satisfied with that? She could master him, she knew; even if things were so, +she could win him to herself, she had read it in his eyes that afternoon; but +could she, who had promised to her dead mother to cherish and protect her +sister, whom till this day she had loved better than anything in the world, and +whom she still loved more dearly than her life—could she, if it should +happen to be thus, rob that sister of her lover? And if it should be so, what +would her life be like? It would be like the great pillar after the lightning +had smitten it, a pile of shattered smoking fragments, a very heaped-up debris +of a life. She could feel it even now. No wonder, then, that Jess sat there +upon the little white bed holding her hand against her heart and feeling +terribly afraid. +</p> + +<p> +Just then she heard John’s footsteps in the hall. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t find her,” he said in an anxious tone to some one as +she rose, taking her candle with her, and left the room. The light of it fell +full upon his face and dripping clothes. It was white and anxious, and she was +glad to see the anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank God! here you are!” he said, catching her hand. “I +began to think you were quite lost. I have been right down the Kloof after you, +and got a nasty fall over it.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is very good of you,” she said in a low voice, and again their +eyes met, and again her glance thrilled him. There was such a wonderful light +in Jess’s eyes that night. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour afterwards they sat down as usual to supper. Bessie did not put in +an appearance till it was a quarter over, and then sat very silent through it. +Jess narrated her adventure in the Kloof, and everybody listened, but nobody +said much. There seemed to be a shadow over the house that evening, or perhaps +it was that each party was thinking of his own affairs. After supper old Silas +Croft began talking about the political state of the country, which gave him +uneasiness. He said that he believed the Boers really meant to rebel against +the Government this time. Frank Muller had told him so, and he always knew what +was going on. This announcement did not tend to raise anybody’s spirits, +and the evening passed as silently as the meal had done. At last Bessie got up, +stretched her rounded arms, and said that she was tired and going to bed. +</p> + +<p> +“Come into my room,” she whispered to her sister as she passed. +“I want to speak to you.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br/> +LOVE’S YOUNG DREAM</h2> + +<p> +After waiting a few minutes, Jess said “Good-night,” and went +straight to Bessie’s room. Her sister had undressed, and was sitting on +her bed, wrapped in a blue dressing-gown that suited her fair complexion +admirably, and with a very desponding expression on her beautiful face. Bessie +was one of those people who are easily elated and easily cast down. +</p> + +<p> +Jess came up to her and kissed her. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, love?” she said. And Bessie could never have divined +the gnawing anxiety that was eating at her heart as she said it. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Jess, I’m so glad that you have come. I do so want you to +advise me—that is, to tell me what you think,” and she paused. +</p> + +<p> +“You must tell <i>me</i> what it is all about first, Bessie dear,” +she said, sitting down opposite to her in such a position that her face was +shaded from the light. Bessie tapped her naked foot against the matting with +which the little room was carpeted. It was an exceedingly pretty foot. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, dear old girl, it is just this—Frank Muller has been here to +ask me to marry him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” said Jess, with a sigh of relief. So that was all? She felt +as though a ton-weight had been lifted from her heart. She had expected this +bit of news for some time. +</p> + +<p> +“He wanted me to marry him, and when I said I would not, he behaved +like—like——” +</p> + +<p> +“Like a Boer,” suggested Jess. +</p> + +<p> +“Like a <i>brute</i>,” went on Bessie with emphasis. +</p> + +<p> +“So you don’t care for Frank Muller?” +</p> + +<p> +“Care for him! I loathe the man. You don’t know how I loathe him, +with his handsome bad face and his cruel eyes. I always loathed him, and now I +hate him too. But I will tell you all about it;” and she did, with many +feminine comments and interpolations. +</p> + +<p> +Jess sat quite still, and waited till she had finished. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, dear,” she said at last, “you are not going to marry +him, and so there is an end of it. You can’t detest the man more than I +do. I have watched him for years,” she went on, with rising anger, +“and I tell you that Frank Muller is a liar and a traitor. That man would +betray his own father if he thought it to his interest to do so. He hates +uncle—I am sure he does, although he pretends to be so fond of him. I am +certain that he has tried often and often to stir up the Boers against him. Old +Hans Coetzee told me that he denounced him to the Veld-Cornet as an +<i>uitlander</i> and a <i>verdomde Engelsmann</i> about two years before the +annexation, and tried to get him to persuade the Landrost to report him as a +law-breaker to the Raad; while all the time he was pretending to be so +friendly. Then in the Sikukuni war it was Frank Muller who caused them to +commandeer uncle’s two best waggons and spans. He gave none himself, +nothing but a couple of bags of meal. He is a wicked fellow, Bessie, and a +dangerous fellow; but he has more brains and more power about him than any man +in the Transvaal, and you will have to be very careful, or he will do us all a +bad turn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said Bessie; “well, he can’t do much now that the +country is English.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not so sure of that. I am not so sure that the country is going to +stop English. You laugh at me for reading the home papers, but I see things +there that make me doubtful. The other party is in power now in England, and +one does not know what they may do; you heard what uncle said to-night. They +might give us up to the Boers. You must remember that we far-away people are +only the counters with which they play their game.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense, Jess,” said Bessie indignantly. “Englishmen are +not like that. When they say a thing, they stick to it.” +</p> + +<p> +“They used to, you mean,” answered Jess with a shrug, and got up +from her chair to go to bed. +</p> + +<p> +Bessie began to fidget her white feet over one another. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop a bit, Jess dear,” she said. “I want to speak to you +about something else.” +</p> + +<p> +Jess sat or rather dropped back into her chair, and her pale face turned paler +than ever; but Bessie blushed very red and hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s about Captain Niel,” she said at length. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” answered Jess with a little laugh, and her voice sounded cold +and strange in her own ears. “Has he been following Frank Muller’s +example, and proposing to you too?” +</p> + +<p> +“No-o,” said Bessie, “but”—and here she rose, +and, sitting on a stool by her elder sister’s chair, rested her forehead +against her knee—“but I love him, and I <i>believe</i> that he +loves me. This morning he told me that I was the prettiest woman he had seen at +home or abroad, and the sweetest too; and do you know,” she said, looking +up and giving a happy little laugh, “I think he meant it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you joking, Bessie, or are you really in earnest?” +</p> + +<p> +“In earnest! ah, but that I am, and I am not ashamed to say it. I fell in +love with John Niel when he killed that cock ostrich. He looked so strong and +savage as he fought with it. It is a fine thing to see a man put out all his +strength. And then he is such a gentleman!—so different from the men we +meet round here. Oh yes, I fell in love with him at once, and I have got deeper +and deeper in love with him ever since, and if he does not marry me I think +that it will break my heart. There, that’s the truth, Jess dear,” +and she dropped her golden head on to her sister’s knees and began to cry +softly at the thought. +</p> + +<p> +But the sister sat there on the chair, her hand hanging idly by her side, her +white face set and impassive as that of an Egyptian Sphinx, and the large eyes +gazing far away through the window, against which the rain was +beating—far away out into the night and the storm. She heard the surging +of the storm, she heard her sister’s weeping, her eyes perceived the dark +square of the window through which they appeared to look, she could feel +Bessie’s head upon her knee—yes, she could see and hear and feel, +and yet it seemed to her that she was <i>dead</i>. The lightning had fallen on +her soul as it fell on the pillar of rock, and it was as the pillar is. And it +had fallen so soon! there had been such a little span of happiness and hope! +And so she sat, like a stony Sphinx, and Bessie wept softly before her, like a +beautiful, breathing, loving human suppliant, and the two formed a picture and +a contrast such as the student of human nature does not often get the chance of +studying. +</p> + +<p> +It was the eldest sister who spoke first after all. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, dear,” she said, “what are you crying about? You love +Captain Niel, and you believe that he loves you. Surely there is nothing to cry +about.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t know that there is,” said Bessie, more +cheerfully; “but I was thinking how dreadful it would be if I lost +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not think that you need be afraid,” said Jess; “and +now, dear, I really must go to bed, I am so tired. Good-night, my dear; God +bless you! I think that you have made a very wise choice. Captain Niel is a man +whom any woman might love, and be proud of loving.” +</p> + +<p> +In another minute she was in her room, and there her composure left her, for +she was but a loving woman after all. She flung herself upon her bed, and, +hiding her face in the pillow, burst into a paroxysm of weeping—a very +different thing from Bessie’s gentle tears. Her grief absolutely +convulsed her, and she pushed the bedclothes against her mouth to prevent the +sound of it penetrating the partition wall and reaching John Niel’s ears, +for his room was next to hers. Even in the midst of her suffering the thought +of the irony of the thing forced itself into her mind. There, separated from +her only by a few inches of lath and plaster and some four or five feet of +space, was the man for whom she mourned thus, and yet he was as ignorant of it +as though he were thousands of miles away. Sometimes at such acute crises in +our lives the limitations of our physical nature do strike us after this +fashion. It is strange to be so near and yet so far, and it brings the absolute +and utter loneliness of every created being home to the mind in a manner that +is forcible and at times almost terrible. John Niel sinking composedly to +sleep, his mind happy with the recollection of those two right and left shots, +and Jess, lying on her bed, six feet away, and sobbing out her stormy heart +over him, are indeed but types of what is continually happening in this +remarkable world. How often do we understand one another’s grief? And, +when we do, by what standard can we measure it? More especially is +comprehension rare, if we chance to be the original cause of the trouble. Do we +think of the feelings of the beetles it is our painful duty to crush into +nothingness? Not at all. If we have any compunctions, they are quickly absorbed +in the pride of our capture. And more often still, as in the present case, we +set our foot upon the poor victim by pure accident or venial carelessness. +</p> + +<p> +Presently John was fast asleep, and Jess, her paroxysm past, was walking up and +down, down and up, her little room, her bare feet falling noiselessly on the +carpeting as she strove to wear out the first bitterness of her woe. Oh that it +lay in her power to recall the past few days! Oh that she had never seen his +face, which must now be ever before her eyes! But for her there was no such +possibility, and she felt it. She knew her own nature well. Her heart had +spoken, and the word it said must roll on continually through the spaces of her +mind. Who can recall the spoken word, and who can set a limit on its echoes? It +is not so with most women, but here and there may be found a nature where it is +so. Spirits like this poor girl’s are too deep, and partake too much of a +divine immutability, to shift and suit themselves to the changing circumstances +of a fickle world. They have no middle course; they cannot halt half-way; they +set all their fortune on a throw. And when the throw is lost their hearts are +broken, and their happiness passes away like a swallow. +</p> + +<p> +For in such a nature love rises like the wind on the quiet breast of some far +sea. None can say whence it comes or whither it blows; but there it is, lashing +the waters to a storm, so that they roll in thunder all the long day through, +throwing their white arms on high, as they clasp at the evasive air, till the +darkness that is death comes down and covers them. +</p> + +<p> +What is the interpretation of it? Why does the great wind stir the deep waters? +It does but ripple the shallow pool as it passes, for shallowness can but +ripple and throw up shadows. We cannot tell, but this we know—that deep +things only can be deeply moved. It is the penalty of depth and greatness; it +is the price they pay for the divine privilege of suffering and sympathy. The +shallow pools, the looking-glasses of our little life, know nought, feel +nought. Poor things! they can but ripple and reflect. But the deep sea, in its +torture, may perchance catch some echo of God’s voice sounding down the +driven gale; and, as it lifts itself and tosses its waves in agony, may +perceive a glow, flowing from a celestial sky that is set beyond the horizon +that bounds its being. +</p> + +<p> +Suffering, or rather mental suffering, is a prerogative of greatness, and even +here there lies an exquisite joy at its core. For everything has its +compensations. Nerves such as these can thrill with a high happiness, that will +sweep unfelt over the mass of men. Thus he who is stricken with grief at the +sight of the world’s misery—as all great and good men must +be—is at times lifted up with joy by catching some faint gleam of the +almighty purpose that underlies it. So it was with the Son of Man in His +darkest hours; the Spirit that enabled Him to compass out the measure of the +world’s suffering and sin enabled Him also, knowing their purposes, to +gaze beyond them; and thus it is, too, with those deep-hearted children of His +race, who partake, however dimly, of His divinity. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, even in this hour of her darkest bitterness and grief, a gleam of comfort +struggled to Jess’s breast just as the first ray of dawn was struggling +through the stormy night. She would sacrifice herself to her sister—that +she had determined on; and hence came that cold gleam of happiness, for there +is happiness in self-sacrifice, whatever the cynical may say. At first her +woman’s nature had risen in rebellion against the thought. Why should she +throw her life away? She had as good a right to this man as Bessie, and she +knew that by the strength of her own hand she could hold him against Bessie in +all her beauty, however far things had gone between them; and she believed, as +a jealous woman is prone to do, that they had gone much farther than was the +case. +</p> + +<p> +But by-and-by, as she pursued that weary march, her better self rose up, and +mastered the promptings of her heart. Bessie loved him, and Bessie was weaker +than she, and less suited to bear pain, and she had sworn to her dying +mother—for Bessie had been her mother’s darling—to promote +her happiness, and, come what would, to comfort and protect her by every means +in her power. It was a wide oath, and she was only a child when she took it, +but it bound her conscience none the less, and surely it covered this. Besides, +she dearly loved her—far, far more than she loved herself. No, Bessie +should have her lover, and she should never know what it had cost her to give +him up; and as for herself, well, she must go away like a wounded buck, and +hide till she got well—or died. +</p> + +<p> +She laughed a drear little laugh, and stayed to brush her hair just as the +broad lights of the dawn came streaming across the misty veldt. But she did not +look at her face again in the glass; she cared no more about it now. Then she +threw herself down to sleep the sleep of utter exhaustion before it was time to +go out again and face the world and her new sorrow. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Jess! Love’s young dream had not overshadowed her for long. It had +tarried just three hours. But it had left other dreams behind. +</p> + +<p> +“Uncle,” said Jess that morning to old Silas Croft as he stood by +the kraal-gate, where he had been counting out the sheep—an operation +requiring much quickness of eye, and on the accurate performance of which he +greatly prided himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, my dear, I know what you are going to say. It was very neatly +done; it isn’t everybody who can count out six hundred running hungry +sheep without a mistake. But then, I oughtn’t to say too much, for you +see I have been at it for fifty years, in the old colony and here. Now, many a +man would get fifty sheep wrong. There’s Niel for +instance——” +</p> + +<p> +“Uncle,” said she, wincing a little at the name, as a horse with a +sore back winces at the touch of the saddle, “it wasn’t about the +sheep that I was going to speak to you. I want you to do me a favour.” +</p> + +<p> +“A favour? Why, God bless the girl, how pale you look!—not but what +you are always pale. Well, what is it now?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to go up to Pretoria by the post-cart that leaves Wakkerstroom +to-morrow afternoon, and to stop for a couple of months with my schoolfellow, +Jane Neville. I have often promised to go, and I have never gone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I never!” said the old man. “My stay-at-home Jess +wanting to go away, and without Bessie too! What is the matter with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want a change, uncle—I do indeed. I hope you won’t thwart +me in this.” +</p> + +<p> +Silas looked at her steadily with his keen grey eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Humph!” he said; “you want to go away, and there’s an +end of it. Best not ask too many questions where a maid is concerned. Very +well, my dear, go if you like, though I shall miss you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, uncle,” she said, and kissed him; then turned and went. +</p> + +<p> +Old Croft took off his broad hat and polished his bald head with a red +pocket-handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s something up with that girl,” he said aloud to a +lizard that had crept out of the crevices of the stone wall to bask in the sun. +“I am not such a fool as I look, and I say that there is something wrong +with her. She is odder than ever,” and he hit viciously at the lizard +with his stick, whereon it promptly bolted into its crack, returning presently +to see if the irate “human” had departed. +</p> + +<p> +“However,” he soliloquised, as he made his way to the house, +“I am glad that it was not Bessie. I couldn’t bear, at my time of +life, to part with Bessie, even for a couple of months.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br/> +JESS GOES TO PRETORIA</h2> + +<p> +That day, at dinner, Jess suddenly announced that she was going on the morrow +to Pretoria to see Jane Neville. +</p> + +<p> +“To see Jane Neville!” said Bessie, opening her blue eyes wide. +“Why, it was only last month you said that you did not care about Jane +Neville now, because she had grown so vulgar. Don’t you remember when she +stopped here on her way down to Natal last year, and held up her fat hands, and +said, ‘Ah, Jess—Jess is a <i>genius!</i> It is a privilege to know +her’? And then she asked you to quote Shakespeare to that lump of a +brother of hers, and you told her that if she did not hold her tongue she would +not enjoy the privilege much longer. And now you want to go and stop with her +for two months! Well, Jess, you are odd. And, what’s more, I think it is +very unkind of you to run away for so long.” +</p> + +<p> +To all of which prattle Jess said nothing, but merely reiterated her +determination to go. +</p> + +<p> +John, too, was astonished, and, to tell the truth, not a little disgusted. +Since the previous day, when he had that talk with her in Lion Kloof, Jess had +assumed a clearer and more definite interest in his eyes. Before that she was +an enigma; now he had guessed enough about her to make him anxious to know +more. Indeed, he had not perhaps realised how strong and definite his interest +was till he heard that she was going away for a long period. Suddenly it struck +him that the farm would be very dull without this very fascinating woman moving +about the place in her silent, resolute way. Bessie was, no doubt, delightful +and charming to look on, but she had not her sister’s brains and +originality; and John Niel was sufficiently above the ordinary run to +thoroughly appreciate intellect and originality in a woman, instead of standing +aghast at it. She interested him intensely, to say the least of it, and, +man-like, he felt exceedingly annoyed, and even sulky, at the idea of her +departure. He looked at her in protest, and, with an awkwardness begotten of +his irritation, knocked down the vinegar cruet and made a mess upon the table; +but she evaded his eyes and took no notice of the vinegar. Then, feeling that +he had done all that in him lay, he went to see about the ostriches; first of +all hanging about a little in case Jess should come out, which she did not do. +Indeed, he saw nothing more of her till supper time. Bessie told him that she +said she was busy packing; but, as one can only take twenty pounds weight of +luggage in a post-cart, this did not quite convince him that it was so in fact. +</p> + +<p> +At supper Jess was, if possible, even more quiet than she had been at dinner. +After it was over, he asked her to sing, but she declined, saying that she had +given up singing for the present, and persisting in her statement in spite of +the chorus of remonstrance it aroused. The birds only sing whilst they are +mating; and it is, by the way, a curious thing, and suggestive of the theory +that the same great principles pervade all nature, that now when her trouble +had overtaken her, and that she had lost the love which had suddenly sprung +from her heart—full-grown and clad in power as Athena sprang from the +head of Jove—Jess had no further inclination to use her divine gift of +song. Probably it was nothing more than a coincidence, although a strange one. +</p> + +<p> +The arrangement was, that on the morrow Jess was to be driven in the Cape cart +to Martinus-Wesselstroom, more commonly called Wakkerstroom, there to catch the +post-cart, which was timed to leave the town at mid-day, though when it would +leave was quite another matter. Post-carts are not particular to a day or so in +the Transvaal. +</p> + +<p> +Old Silas Croft was to drive her with Bessie, who wished to do some shopping in +Wakkerstroom, as ladies sometimes will; but at the last moment the old man felt +a premonitory twinge of the rheumatism to which he was a martyr, and could not +go. So, of course, John volunteered, and, though Jess raised some difficulties, +Bessie furthered the idea, and in the end his offer was accepted. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly, at half-past eight on a beautiful morning up came the tented cart, +with its two massive wheels, stout stinkwood disselboom, and four spirited +young horses; to the heads of which the Hottentot Jantje, assisted by the Zulu +Mouti, clad in the sweet simplicity of a moocha, a few feathers in his wool, +and a horn snuffbox stuck through the fleshy part of the ear, hung on grimly. +In they got—John first, then Bessie next to him, then Jess. Next Jantje +scrambled up behind; and after some preliminary backing and plunging, and +showing a disposition to twine themselves affectionately round the +orange-trees, off went the horses at a hand gallop, and away swung the cart +after them, in a fashion that would have frightened anybody, not accustomed to +that mode of progression, pretty well out of his wits. As it was, John had as +much as he could do to keep the four horses together, and to prevent them from +bolting, and this alone, to say nothing of the rattling and jolting of the +vehicle over the uneven track, was sufficient to put a stop to any attempt at +conversation. +</p> + +<p> +Wakkerstroom is about eighteen miles from Mooifontein, a distance that they +covered well within the two hours. Here the horses were outspanned at the +hotel, and John went into the house whence the post-cart was to start and +booked Jess’s seat, and then joined the ladies at the <i>Kantoor</i> or +store where they were shopping. When their purchases were made, they went back +to the inn together and ate some dinner; by which time the Hottentot driver of +the cart began to tune up lustily, but unmelodiously, on a bugle to inform +intending passengers that it was time to start. Bessie was out of the room at +the moment, and, with the exception of a peculiarly dirty-looking coolie +waiter, there was nobody about. +</p> + +<p> +“How long are you going to be away, Miss Jess?” asked John. +</p> + +<p> +“Two months, more or less, Captain Niel.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am very sorry that you are going,” he said earnestly. “It +will be dull at the farm without you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will have Bessie to talk to,” she answered, turning her face +to the window, and affecting to watch the inspanning of the post-cart in the +yard on to which it looked. +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Niel!” she said suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mind you look after Bessie while I am away. Listen! I am going to tell +you something. You know Frank Muller?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know him, and a very disagreeable fellow he is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he threatened Bessie the other day, and he is a man who is quite +capable of carrying out a threat. I can’t tell you anything more about +it, but I want you to promise me to protect Bessie if any occasion for it +should arise. I do not know that it will, but it might. Will you +promise?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I will; I would do a great deal more than that if you asked me +to, Jess,” he answered tenderly, for now that she was going away he felt +curiously drawn towards her, and was anxious to show it. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind me,” she said, with an impatient little movement. +“Bessie is sweet enough and lovely enough to be looked after for her own +sake, I should think.” +</p> + +<p> +Before he could say any more, in came Bessie herself, saying that the driver +was waiting, and they went out to see her sister off. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t forget your promise,” Jess whispered to him, bending +down as he helped her into the cart, so low that her lips almost touched him, +and her breath rested for a second on his cheek like the ghost of a kiss. +</p> + +<p> +In another moment the sisters had embraced each other, tenderly enough; the +driver had sounded once more on his awful bugle, and away went the cart at full +gallop, bearing with it Jess, two other passengers, and her Majesty’s +mails. John and Bessie stood for a moment watching its mad career, as it fled +splashing and banging down the straggling street towards the wide plains +beyond; then they turned to enter the inn again and prepare for their homeward +drive. At that moment, an old Boer, named Hans Coetzee, with whom John was +already slightly acquainted, came up, and, extending an enormously big and +thick hand, bid them “<i>Gooden daag.</i>” Hans Coetzee was a very +favourable specimen of the better sort of Boer, and really came more or less up +to the ideal picture that is so often drawn of that “simple pastoral +people.” He was a very large, stout man, with a fine open face and a pair +of kindly eyes. John, looking at him, guessed that he could not weigh less than +seventeen stone, and that estimate was well within the mark. +</p> + +<p> +“How are you, Captain?” he said in English, for he could talk +English well, “and how do you like the Transvaal?—must not call it +South African Republic now, you know, for that’s treason,” and his +eye twinkled merrily. +</p> + +<p> +“I like it very much, <i>Meinheer</i>,” said John. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, yes, it’s a beautiful veldt, especially about here—no +horse sickness, no ‘blue tongue,’ [*] and a good strong grass for +the cattle. And you must find yourself very snug at <i>Oom</i> Croft’s +there; it’s the nicest place in the district, with the ostriches and all. +Not that I hold with ostriches in this veldt; they are well enough in the old +colony, but they won’t breed here—at least, not as they should do. +I tried them once and I know; oh, yes, I know.” +</p> + +<p> +[*] A disease that is very fatal to sheep. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it’s a very fine country, <i>Meinheer</i>. I have been all +over the world almost, and I never saw a finer.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t say so, now! Almighty, what a thing it is to have +travelled! Not that I should like to travel myself. I think that the Lord meant +us to stop in the place He has made for us. But it is a fine country, +and” (dropping his voice) “I think it is a finer country than it +used to be.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean that the veldt has got ‘tame’, +<i>Meinheer</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, nay. I mean that the land is English now,” he answered +mysteriously, “and though I dare not say so among my <i>volk</i>, I hope +that it will keep English. When I was Republican, I was Republican, and it was +good in some ways, the Republic. There was so little to pay in taxes, and we +knew how to manage the black folk; but now I am English, I am English. I know +the English Government means good money and safety, and if there isn’t a +<i>Raad</i> (assembly) now, well, what does it matter? Almighty, how they used +to talk there!—clack, clack, clack! just like an old black <i>koran</i> +(species of bustard) at sunset. And where did they run the waggon of the +Republic to—Burghers and those damned Hollanders of his, and the rest of +them? Why, into the <i>sluit</i>—into a <i>sluit</i> with peaty banks; +and there it would have stopped till now, or till the flood came down and swept +it away, if old Shepstone—ah! what a tongue that man has, and how fond he +is of the <i>kinderchies!</i> (little children)—had not come and pulled +it out again. But look here, Captain, the <i>volk</i> round here don’t +think like that. It’s the ‘<i>verdomde Britische +Gouvernment</i>’ here and the ‘<i>verdomde Britische +Gouvernment</i>’ there, and <i>bymakaars</i> (meetings) here and +<i>bymakaars</i> there. Silly folk, they all run one after the other like +sheep. But there it is, Captain, and I tell you there will be fighting before +long, and then our people will shoot those poor <i>rooibaatjes</i> of yours +like buck, and take the land back. Poor things! I could weep when I think of +it.” +</p> + +<p> +John smiled at this melancholy prognostication, and was about to explain what a +poor show all the Boers in the Transvaal would make in front of a few British +regiments, when he was astonished by a sudden change in his friend’s +manner. Dropping his enormous paw on to his shoulder, Coetzee broke into a +burst of somewhat forced merriment, the cause of which, though John did not +guess it at the moment, was that he had just perceived Frank Muller, who was in +Wakkerstroom with a waggon-load of corn to grind at the mill, standing within +five yards, and apparently intensely interested in flipping at the flies with a +cowrie made of the tail of a vilderbeeste, but in reality listening to +Coetzee’s talk with all his ears. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, ha! <i>nef</i> (nephew),” said old Coetzee to the astonished +John, “no wonder you like Mooifontein—there are other <i>mooi</i> +(pretty) things there beside the water. How often do you <i>opsit</i> (sit up +at night) with Uncle Croft’s pretty girl, eh? I’m not quite as +blind as an ant-bear yet. I saw her blush when you spoke to her just now. I saw +her. Well, well, it is a pretty game for a young man, isn’t it, +<i>nef</i> Frank?” (this was addressed to Muller). “I’ll be +bound the Captain here ‘burns a long candle’ with pretty Bessie +every night, eh, Frank? I hope you ain’t jealous, <i>nef</i>? My +<i>vrouw</i> told me some time ago that you were sweet in that direction +yourself;” and he stopped at last, out of breath, looking anxiously +towards Muller for an answer, while John, who had been somewhat overwhelmed at +this flood of bucolic chaff, gave a sigh of relief. As for Muller, he behaved +in a curious manner. Instead of laughing, as the jolly old Boer had intended +that he should, although Coetzee could not see it, his face had been growing +blacker and blacker; and now that the flow of language ceased, with a savage +ejaculation which John could not catch, but which he appeared to throw at his +(John’s) head, he turned on his heel and went off towards the courtyard +of the inn. +</p> + +<p> +“Almighty!” said old Hans, wiping his face with a red cotton +pocket-handkerchief; “I have put my foot into a big hole. That stink-cat +Muller heard all that I was saying to you, and I tell you he will save it up +and save it up, and one day he will bring it all out to the <i>volk</i>, and +call me a traitor to the ‘land’ and ruin me. I know him. He knows +how to balance a long stick on his little finger so that the ends keep even. +Oh, yes, he can ride two horses at once, and blow hot and blow cold. He is a +devil of a man, a devil of a man! And what did he mean by swearing at you like +that? Is it about the <i>missie</i> (girl), I wonder? Almighty! who can say? +Ah! that reminds me—though I’m sure I don’t know why it +should—the Kafirs tell me that there is a big herd of +buck—vilderbeeste and blesbok—on my outlying place about an hour +and a half (ten miles) from Mooifontein. Can you hold a rifle, Captain? You +look like a bit of a hunter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, Meinheer!” said John, delighted at the prospect of some +shooting. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, I thought so. All you English are sportsmen, though you don’t +know how to kill buck. Well now, you take <i>Oom</i> Croft’s light Scotch +cart and two good horses, and come over to my place—not to-morrow, for my +wife’s cousin is coming to see us, and an old cat she is, but rich; she +has a thousand pounds in gold in the waggon-box under her bed—nor the +next day, for it is the Lord’s day, and one can’t shoot creatures +on the Lord’s day—but Monday, yes, Monday. You will be there by +eight o’clock, and you shall see how to kill vilderbeeste. Almighty! now +what can that jackal Frank Muller have meant? Ah! he is the devil of a +man,” and, shaking his head ponderously, the jolly old Boer departed, and +presently John saw him riding away upon a fat little shooting-pony which cannot +have weighed much more than himself, but that cantered off with him on his +fifteen-mile journey as though he were a feather-weight. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br/> +JANTJE’S STORY</h2> + +<p> +Shortly after the old Boer had gone, John went into the yard of the hotel to +see to the inspanning of the Cape cart, where his attention was at once +arrested by the sight of a row in active progress—at least, from the +crowd of Kafirs and idlers and the angry sounds and curses which proceeded from +them, he judged that it was a row. Nor was he wrong in his conclusion. In the +corner of the yard, close by the stable-door, surrounded by the aforesaid +crowd, stood Frank Muller; a heavy <i>sjambock</i> in his raised hand, as +though in the act to strike. Before him, a very picture of drunken fury, his +lips drawn up like a snarling dog’s, so that the two lines of white teeth +gleamed like polished ivory in the sunlight, his small eyes all shot with blood +and his face working convulsively, was the Hottentot Jantje. Nor was this all. +Across his face was a blue wheal where the whip had fallen, and in his hand a +heavy white-handled knife which he always carried. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo! what is all this?” said John, shouldering his way through +the crowd. +</p> + +<p> +“The <i>swartsel</i> (black creature) has stolen my horse’s forage, +and given it to yours!” shouted Muller, who was evidently almost off his +head with rage, making an attempt to hit Jantje with the whip as he spoke. The +latter avoided the blow by jumping behind John, with the result that the tip of +the <i>sjambock</i> caught the Englishman on the leg. +</p> + +<p> +“Be careful, sir, with that whip,” said John to Muller, restraining +his temper with difficulty. “Now, how do you know that the man stole your +horse’s forage; and what business have you to touch him? If there was +anything wrong, you should have reported it to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“He lies, Baas, he lies!” yelled out the Hottentot in tremulous, +high-pitched tones. “He lies; he has always been a liar, and worse than a +liar. Yah! yah! I can tell things about him. The land is English now, and Boers +can’t kill the black people as they like. That man—that Boer, +Muller, he shot my father and my mother—my father first, then my mother; +he gave her two bullets—she did not die the first time.” +</p> + +<p> +“You yellow devil!—You black-skinned, black-hearted, lying son of +Satan!” roared the great Boer, his very beard curling with fury. +“Is that the way you talk to your masters? Out of the light, +<i>rooibaatje</i>”—this was to John—“and I will cut his +tongue out of him. I’ll show him how we deal with a yellow liar;” +and without further ado he made a rush for the Hottentot. +</p> + +<p> +As he came, John, whose blood was now thoroughly up, put out his open hand, +and, bending forward, pushed with all his strength on Muller’s advancing +chest. John was a very powerfully made man, though not a large one, and the +push sent Muller staggering back. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean by that, <i>rooibaatje?</i>” shouted Muller, his +face livid with fury. “Get out of my road or I will mark that pretty face +of yours. I owe you for some goods as it is, Englishman, and I always pay my +debts. Out of the path, curse you!” and he again rushed for the +Hottentot. +</p> + +<p> +This time John, who was now almost as angry as his assailant, did not wait for +the man to reach him, but, springing forward, hooked his arm around +Muller’s throat and, before he could close with him, with one tremendous +jerk managed not only to stop his wild career, but to reverse the motion, and +then, by interposing his foot with considerable neatness, to land +him—powerful as he was—on his back in a pool of drainage that had +collected from the stable in a hollow of the inn-yard. Down he went with a +splash, amid a shout of delight from the crowd, who always like to see an +aggressor laid low, his head bumping with considerable force against the lintel +of the door. For a moment he lay still, and John was afraid that the man was +really hurt. Presently, however, he rose, and, without attempting any further +hostile demonstration or saying a single word, tramped off towards the house, +leaving his enemy to compose his ruffled nerves as best he could. Now John, +like most gentlemen, hated a row with all his heart, though he had the +Anglo-Saxon tendency to go through with it unflinchingly when once it began. +Indeed, the incident irritated him almost beyond bearing, for he knew that the +story with additions would go the round of the countryside, and what is more, +that he had made a powerful and implacable enemy. +</p> + +<p> +“This is all your fault, you drunken little blackguard!” he said, +turning savagely on the Tottie, who, now that his excitement had left him, was +snivelling and drivelling in an intoxicated fashion, and calling him his +preserver and his Baas in maudlin accents. +</p> + +<p> +“He hit me, Baas; he hit me, and I did not take the forage. He is a bad +man, Baas Muller.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be off with you and get the horses inspanned; you are half-drunk,” +John growled, and, having seen that operation advancing to a conclusion, he +went to the sitting-room of the hotel, where Bessie was waiting in happy +ignorance of the disturbance. It was not till they were well on their homeward +way that he told her what had passed, whereat, remembering the scene she had +herself gone through with Frank Muller, and the threats that he had then made +use of, she looked very grave. Her old uncle, too, was very much put out when +he heard the story on their arrival home that evening. +</p> + +<p> +“You have made an enemy, Niel,” he said, as they sat upon the +verandah after breakfast on the following morning, “and a bad one. Not +but what you were right to stand up for the Hottentot. I would have done as +much myself had I been there and ten years younger, but Frank Muller is not the +man to forget being put upon his back before a lot of Kafirs and white folk +too. Perhaps that Jantje is sober by now. I will go and call him, and we will +hear what this story is about his father and his mother.” +</p> + +<p> +Presently he returned followed by the ragged, dirty-faced little Hottentot, +who, looking very miserable and ashamed of himself, took off his hat and +squatted down on the drive, in the full glare of the African sun, to the +effects of which he appeared to be totally impervious. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Jantje, listen to me,” said the old man. “Yesterday you +got drunk again. Well, I’m not going to talk about that now, except to +say that if I hear of your being drunk once more—you leave this +place.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Baas,” said the Hottentot meekly. “I was drunk, though +not very; I only had half a bottle of Cape smoke.” +</p> + +<p> +“By getting drunk you made a quarrel with Baas Muller, so that blows +passed between Baas Muller and the Baas here on your account, which was more +than you are worth. Now when Baas Muller had struck you, you said that he had +shot your father and your mother. Was that a lie, or what did you mean by +saying it?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was no lie, Baas,” answered the Hottentot excitedly. “I +have said it once, and I will say it again. Listen, Baas, and I will tell you +the story. When I was young—so tall”—and he held his hand +high enough to indicate a Tottie of about fourteen years of +age—“we, that is, my father, my mother, my uncle—a very old +man, older than the Baas” (pointing to Silas Croft)—“were +<i>bijwoners</i> (authorised squatters) on a place belonging to old Jacob +Muller, Baas Frank’s father, down in Lydenburg yonder. It was a +bush-veldt farm, and old Jacob used to come down there with his cattle from the +High veldt in the winter when there was no grass in the High veldt, and with +him came the Englishwoman, his wife, and the young Baas Frank—the Baas we +saw yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“How long was all this ago?” asked Mr. Croft. +</p> + +<p> +Jantje counted on his fingers for some seconds, and then held up his hand and +opened it four times in succession. “So,” he said, “twenty +years last winter. Baas Frank was young then, he had only a little down upon +his chin. One year when <i>Oom</i> Jacob went away, after the first rains, he +left six oxen that were too <i>poor</i> (thin) to go, with my father, and told +him to look after them as though they were his children. But the oxen were +bewitched. Three of them took the lung-sick and died, a lion got one, a snake +got one, and one ate ‘tulip’ and died too. So when <i>Oom</i> Jacob +came back the next year all the oxen were gone. He was very angry with my +father, and beat him with a yoke-strap till he was all blood, and though we +showed him the bones of the oxen, he said that we had stolen them and sold +them. +</p> + +<p> +“Now <i>Oom</i> Jacob had a beautiful span of black oxen that he loved +like children. Sixteen of them there were, and they would come up to the yoke +when he called them and put down their heads of themselves. They were tame as +dogs. These oxen were thin when they came down, but in two months they grew fat +and began to want to trek about as oxen do. At this time there was a Basutu, +one of Sequati’s people, resting in our hut, for he had hurt his foot +with a thorn. When <i>Oom</i> Jacob found that the Basutu was there he was very +angry, for he said that all Basutus were thieves. So my father told the Basutu +that the Baas said that he must go away, and he went that night. Next morning +the span of black oxen were gone too. The kraal-gate was down, and they had +gone. We hunted all day, but we could not find them. Then <i>Oom</i> Jacob went +mad with rage, and the young Baas Frank told him that one of the Kafir boys had +said to him that he had heard my father sell them to the Basutu for sheep which +he was to pay to us in the summer. It was a lie, but Baas Frank hated my father +because of something about a woman—a Zulu girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Next morning when we were asleep, just at daybreak, <i>Oom</i> Jacob +Muller and Baas Frank and two Kafirs came into the hut and pulled us out, the +old man my uncle, my father, my mother, and myself, and tied us up to four +mimosa-trees with buffalo-hide reims. Then the Kafirs went away, and <i>Oom</i> +Jacob asked my father where the cattle were, and my father told him that he did +not know. Then <i>Oom</i> Jacob took off his hat and said a prayer to the Big +Man in the sky, and when he had done Baas Frank came up with a gun and stood +quite close and shot my father dead, and he fell forward and hung quiet over +the reim, his head touching his feet. Then he loaded the gun again and shot the +old man my uncle, and he slipped down dead, and his hands stuck up in the air +against the reim. Next he shot my mother, but the bullet did not kill her, and +cut the reim, and she ran away, and he ran after her and killed her. When that +was done he came back to shoot me; but I was young then, and did not know that +it is better to be dead than to live like a dog, and I cried and prayed for +mercy while he was loading the gun. +</p> + +<p> +“But the Baas only laughed, and said he would teach Hottentots how to +steal cattle, and old <i>Oom</i> Jacob prayed out loud to the Big Man and said +he was very sorry for me, but it was the dear Lord’s will. And then, just +as Baas Frank lifted the gun, he dropped it again, for there, coming softly, +softly over the brow of the hill, in and out between the bushes, were all the +sixteen oxen! They had got out in the night and strayed away into some kloof +for a change of pasture, and came back when they were full and tired of being +alone. <i>Oom</i> Jacob turned quite white and scratched his head, and then +fell upon his knees and thanked the dear Lord for saving my life; and just then +the Englishwoman, Baas Frank’s mother, came down from the waggon to see +what the firing was at, and when she saw all the people dead and me weeping, +tied to the tree, and learnt what it was about, she went quite mad, for +sometimes she had a kind heart when she was not drunk, and said that a curse +would fall on them, and that they would all die in blood. And she took a knife +and cut me loose, though Baas Frank wanted to kill me, so that I might tell no +tales; and I ran away, travelling by night and hiding by day, for I was very +much frightened, till I reached Natal, and there I stopped, working in Natal +till this land became English, when Baas Croft hired me to drive his cart up +from Maritzburg; and living by here I found Baas Frank, looking bigger but just +the same except for his beard. +</p> + +<p> +“There, Baas, that is the truth, and all the truth, and that is why I +hate Baas Frank, because he shot my father and mother, and why Baas Frank hates +me, because he cannot forget that he did it and because I saw him do it, for, +as our people say, ‘one always hates a man one has wounded with a +spear.’” +</p> + +<p> +Having finished his narrative, the miserable-looking little man picked up his +greasy old felt hat that had a leather strap fixed round the crown, in which +were stuck a couple of frayed ostrich feathers, and jammed it down over his +ears. Then he fell to drawing circles on the soil with his long toes. His +auditors only looked at one another. Such a ghastly tale seemed to be beyond +comment. They never doubted its truth; the man’s way of telling it +carried conviction with it; indeed, two of them at any rate had heard such +stories before. Most people have who live in the wilder parts of South Africa, +though they are not all to be taken for gospel. +</p> + +<p> +“You say,” remarked old Silas at last, “that the Englishwoman +said that a curse would fall on them, and that they would die in blood? She was +right. Twelve years ago <i>Oom</i> Jacob and his wife were murdered by a party +of Mapoch’s Kafirs down on the edge of that very Lydenburg veldt. There +was a great noise about it at the time, I remember, but nothing came of it. +Baas Frank was not there. He was away shooting buck, so he escaped, and +inherited all his father’s farms and cattle, and came to live +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“So!” said the Hottentot, without showing the slightest interest or +surprise. “I knew it would be so, but I wish I had been there to see it. +I saw that there was a devil in the woman, and that they would die as she said. +When there is a devil in people they always speak the truth, because they +can’t help it. Look, Baas, I draw a circle in the sand with my foot, and +I say some words so, and at last the ends touch. There, that is the circle of +<i>Oom</i> Jacob and his wife the Englishwoman. The ends have touched and they +are dead. An old witch-doctor taught me how to draw the circle of a man’s +life and what words to say. And now I draw another of Baas Frank. Ah! there is +a stone sticking up in the way. The ends will not touch. But now I work and +work and work with my foot, and say the words and say the words, and +so—the stone comes up and the ends touch now. Thus it is with Baas Frank. +One day the stone will come up and the ends will touch, and he too will die in +blood. The devil in the Englishwoman said so, and devils cannot lie or speak +half the truth only. And now, look, I rub my foot over the circles and they are +gone, and there is only the path again. That means that when they have died in +blood they will be quite forgotten and stamped out. Even their graves will be +flat,” and Jantje wrinkled up his yellow face into a smile, or rather a +grin, and then added in a matter-of-fact way: +</p> + +<p> +“Does the Baas wish the grey mare to have one bundle of green forage or +two?” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X.<br/> +JOHN HAS AN ESCAPE</h2> + +<p> +On the following Monday, John, taking Jantje to drive him, departed in a rough +Scotch cart, to which were harnessed two of the best horses at Mooifontein, to +shoot buck at Hans Coetzee’s. +</p> + +<p> +He reached the place at about half-past eight, and concluded, from the fact of +the presence of several carts and horses, that he was not the only guest. +Indeed, the first person whom he saw as the cart pulled up was his late enemy, +Frank Muller. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Kek</i> (look), Baas,” said Jantje, “there is Baas Frank +talking to his servant Hendrik, that ugly Basutu with one eye.” +</p> + +<p> +John, as may be imagined, was not best pleased at this meeting. He had always +disliked the man, and since Muller’s conduct on the previous Friday, and +Jantje’s story of the dark deed of blood in which he had been the +principal actor, positively he loathed the sight of him. He jumped out of the +cart, and was going to walk round to the back of the house in order to avoid +him, when Muller, suddenly seeming to become aware of his presence, advanced to +meet him with the utmost cordiality. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do, Captain?” he said, holding out his hand, which John +just touched. “So you have come to shoot buck with <i>Oom</i> Coetzee; +going to show us Transvaalers how do to it, eh? There, Captain, don’t +look as stiff as a rifle barrel. I know what you are thinking of; that little +business at Wakkerstroom on Friday, is it not? Well, now, I tell you what it +is, I was in the wrong, and I am not afraid to say so as between man and man. I +had had a glass, that was the fact, and did not quite know what I was about. We +have got to live as neighbours here, so let us forget all about it and be +brothers again. I never bear malice, not I. It is not the Lord’s will +that we should bear malice. Hit out from the shoulder, I say, and then forget +all about it. If it hadn’t been for that little monkey,” he added, +jerking his thumb in the direction of Jantje, who was holding the horses’ +heads, “it would never have happened, and it is not nice that two +Christians should quarrel about such as he.” +</p> + +<p> +Muller jerked out this long speech in a succession of sentences, something as a +schoolboy repeats a hardly learnt lesson, fidgeting his feet and letting his +restless eyes travel about the ground as he spoke. It was evident to John, who +stood quite still and listened to it in icy silence, that his address was by no +means extemporary; clearly it had been composed for the occasion. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not wish to quarrel with anybody, <i>Meinheer</i> Muller,” he +answered at length. “I never do quarrel unless it is forced on me, and +then,” he added grimly, “I do my best to make it unpleasant for my +enemy. The other day you attacked first my servant and then myself. I am glad +that you now see that this was an improper thing to do, and, so far as I am +concerned, there is an end of the matter,” and he turned to enter the +house. +</p> + +<p> +Muller accompanied him as far as where Jantje was standing at the horses’ +heads. Here he stopped, and, putting his hand in his pocket, took out a +two-shilling piece and threw it to the Hottentot, calling to him to catch it. +</p> + +<p> +Jantje was holding the horses with one hand. In the other he held his +stick—a long walking kerrie that he always carried, the same on which he +had shown Bessie the notches. In order to secure the piece of money he dropped +the stick, and Muller’s quick eye catching sight of the notches beneath +the knob, he stooped down, picked it up, and examined it. +</p> + +<p> +“What do these mean, boy?” he asked, pointing to the line of big +and little notches, some of which had evidently been cut years ago. +</p> + +<p> +Jantje touched his hat, spat upon the “Scotchman,” as the natives +of that part of Africa call a two-shilling piece,[*] and pocketed it before he +answered. The fact that the giver had murdered all his near relations did not +make the gift less desirable in his eyes. Hottentot moral sense is not very +elevated. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] Because once upon a time a Scotchman made a great impression on the simple +native mind in Natal by palming off some thousands of florins among them at the +nominal value of half a crown. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Baas,” he said with a curious grin, “that is how I +reckon. If anybody beats Jantje, Jantje cuts a notch upon the stick, and every +night before he goes to sleep he looks at it and says, ‘One day you will +strike that man twice who struck you once,’ and so on, Baas. Look, what a +line of them there are, Baas. One day I shall pay them all back again, Baas +Frank.” +</p> + +<p> +Muller abruptly dropped the stick, and followed John towards the house. It was +a much better building than the Boers generally indulge in, and the +sitting-room, though innocent of flooring—unless clay and cowdung mixed +can be called a floor—was more or less covered with mats made of +springbuck skins. In the centre of the room stood a table made of the pretty +<i>buckenhout</i> wood, which has the appearance of having been industriously +pricked all over with a darning-needle, and round it were chairs and couches of +stinkwood, and seated with rimpis or strips of hide. +</p> + +<p> +In one big chair at the end of the room, busily employed in doing nothing, sat +<i>Tanta</i> (Aunt) Coetzee, the wife of Old Hans, a large and weighty woman, +who evidently had once been rather handsome; and on the couches were some +half-dozen Boers, their rifles in their hands or between their knees. +</p> + +<p> +It struck John as he entered that some of these did not seem best pleased to +see him, and he thought he heard one young fellow, with a hang-dog expression +of face, mutter something about the “damned Englishman” to his +neighbour rather more loudly than was necessary to convey his sentiments. +However, old Coetzee came forward to greet him heartily enough, and called to +his daughters—two fine girls, very smartly dressed for Dutch +women—to give the Captain a cup of coffee. Then John made the rounds +after the Boer fashion, and beginning with the old lady in the chair, received +a lymphatic shake of the hand from every single soul in the room. They did not +rise—it is not customary to do so—they merely extended their paws, +all of them more or less damp, and muttered the mystic monosyllable +“<i>Daag</i>,” short for good-day. It is a very trying ceremony +till one gets used to it, and John pulled up panting, to be presented with a +cup of hot coffee that he did not want, but which it would be rude not to +drink. +</p> + +<p> +“The Captain is the <i>rooibaatje?</i>” said the old lady +“Aunt” Coetzee interrogatively, and yet with the certainty of one +who states a fact. +</p> + +<p> +John signified that he was. +</p> + +<p> +“What does the Captain come to the ‘land’ for? Is it to +spy?” +</p> + +<p> +The whole audience listened attentively to their hostess’s question, then +turned their heads to listen for the answer. +</p> + +<p> +“No. I have come to farm with Silas Croft.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a general smile of incredulity. Could a <i>rooibaatje</i> farm? +Certainly not. +</p> + +<p> +“There are three thousand men in the British army,” announced the +old <i>vrouw</i> oracularly, and casting a severe glance at the wolf in +sheep’s clothing, the man of blood who pretended to farm. +</p> + +<p> +Everybody looked at John again, and awaited his answer in dead silence. +</p> + +<p> +“There are more than a hundred thousand men in the regular British army, +and as many more in the Indian army, and twice as many more volunteers,” +he said, in a rather irritated voice. +</p> + +<p> +This statement also was received with the most discouraging incredulity. +</p> + +<p> +“There are three thousand men in the British army,” repeated the +old lady, in a tone of certainty that was positively crushing. +</p> + +<p> +“Yah, yah!” chimed in some of the younger men in chorus. +</p> + +<p> +“There are three thousand men in the British army,” she repeated +for the third time in triumph. “If the Captain says that there are more +he lies. It is natural that he should lie about his own army. My +grandfather’s brother was at Cape Town in the time of Governor Smith, and +he saw the whole British army. He counted them; there were exactly three +thousand. I say that there are three thousand men in the British army.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yah, yah!” said the chorus; and John gazed at this terrible person +in bland exasperation. +</p> + +<p> +“How many men do you command in the British army?” she interrogated +after a solemn pause. +</p> + +<p> +“A hundred,” said John sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“Girl,” said the old woman, addressing one of her daughters, +“you have been to school and can reckon. How many times does one hundred +go into three thousand?” +</p> + +<p> +The young lady addressed giggled confusedly, and looked for assistance to a +sardonic Boer whom she was going to marry, who shook his head sadly, indicating +thereby that these were mysteries into which it was not well to pry. Thrown on +her own resources, she plunged into the recesses of an intricate calculation, +in which her fingers played a considerable part, and finally, with an air of +triumph, announced that it went twenty-six times exactly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yah, yah!” said the chorus, “it goes twenty-six times +exactly.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Captain,” said the oracular old lady, who was rapidly driving +John mad, “commands a twenty-sixth part of the British army, and he says +that he comes here to farm with Uncle Silas Croft. He says,” she went on, +with withering contempt, “that he comes here to farm when he commands a +twenty-sixth part of the British army. It is evident that he lies.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yah, yah!” said the chorus. +</p> + +<p> +“It is natural that he should lie!” she continued; “all +Englishmen lie, especially the <i>rooibaatje</i> Englishmen, but he should not +lie so badly. It must vex the dear Lord to hear a man lie so badly, even though +he be an Englishman and a <i>rooibaatje</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +At this point John burst from the house, and swore frantically to himself as +soon as he was outside. It is to be hoped that he was forgiven, for the +provocation was not small. It is not pleasant to be universally set down not +only as a <i>leugenaar</i> (liar), but as one of the very feeblest order. +</p> + +<p> +In another minute old Hans Coetzee came out and patted him warmly on the +shoulder, in a way that seemed to say that, whatever others might think of the +insufficiency of his powers of falsehood, he, for one, quite appreciated them, +and announced that it was time to be moving. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly the party climbed into their carts or on to their shooting-horses, +as the case might be, and started. Frank Muller, John noticed, was mounted as +usual on his fine black horse. After driving for more than half an hour along +an indefinite kind of waggon track, the leading cart, in which were old Hans +Coetzee himself, a Malay driver, and a coloured Cape boy, turned to the left +across the open veldt, and the others followed in turn. This went on for some +time, till at last they reached the crest of a rise that commanded a large +sweep of open country, and here Hans halted and held up his hand, whereon the +others halted too. On looking out over the vast plain before him John +discovered the reason. About half a mile beneath them was a great herd of +blesbuck feeding, three hundred or more of them, and beyond them another herd +of some sixty or seventy much larger and wilder-looking animals with white +tails, which John at once recognised as vilderbeeste. Nearer to them again, +dotted about here and there on the plain, were a couple of dozen or so of +graceful yellow springbuck. +</p> + +<p> +Now a council of war was held, which resulted in the men on +horseback—among whom was Frank Muller—being despatched to +circumvent the herds and drive them towards the carts, that took up their +stations at various points, towards which the buck were likely to run. +</p> + +<p> +Then came a pause of a quarter of an hour or so, till suddenly, from the far +ridge of the opposite slope, John saw a couple of puffs of white smoke float up +into the air, and one of the vilderbeeste below rolled over on his back, +kicking and plunging furiously. Thereon the whole herd of buck turned and came +thundering towards them, stretched in a long line across the wide veldt; the +springbuck first, then the blesbuck, looking for all the world like a herd of +great bearded goats, owing to their peculiar habit of holding their long heads +down as they galloped. Behind and mixed up with them were the vilderbeeste, who +twisted and turned, and jumped into the air as though they had gone clean off +their heads and were next second going clean on to them. It is very difficult, +owing to his extraordinary method of progression, to distinguish one part of a +galloping vilderbeeste from another; now it is his horns, now his tail, and now +his hoofs that present themselves to the watcher’s bewildered vision, and +now again they all seem to be mixed up together. On came the great herd, making +the ground shake beneath their footfall: and after them galloped the mounted +Boers, from time to time jumping off their horses to fire a shot into the line +of game, which generally resulted in some poor animal being left sprawling on +the ground, whereon the sportsmen would remount and continue the chase. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the buck were within range of some of the guns in the carts, and a +regular fusillade began. About twenty blesbuck turned and came straight past +John, at a distance of forty yards. Springing to the ground he fired both +barrels of his “Express” at them as they tore along—alas and +alas! without touching them. The first bullet struck under their bellies, the +second must have shaved their backs. Reloading rapidly, he fired again at about +two hundred yards’ range, and this time one fell to his second barrel. +But he knew that it was a chance shot: he had fired at the last buck, and he +had killed one ten paces in front of it. In fact this sort of shooting is +extremely difficult till the sportsman understands it. The inexperienced hand +firing across a line of buck will not kill once in twenty shots, as an +infinitesimal difference in elevation, or the slightest error in judging +distance—in itself no easy art on those great plains—will spoil his +aim. A Boer almost invariably gets immediately behind a herd of running buck, +and fires at one about half-way down the line. Consequently if his elevation is +a little wrong, or if he has misjudged his sighting, the odds are that he will +hit one either in front of or behind the particular animal fired at. All that +is necessary is that the line of fire should be good. This John soon learnt, +and when he had mastered the fact he became as good a game shot as the majority +of Boers, but it being his first attempt, much to his vexation, he did not +particularly distinguish himself that day, with the result that his friends the +Dutchmen went home firmly convinced that the English <i>rooibaatje</i> shot as +indifferently as he lied. +</p> + +<p> +Jumping into the cart again, and leaving the dead blesbuck to look after itself +for the present—not a very safe thing to do in a country where there are +so many vultures—John, or rather Jantje, put the horses into a gallop, +and away they went at full tear. It was a most exciting mode of progression, +bumping along furiously with a loaded rifle in his hands over a plain on which +antheaps as large as an armchair were scattered like burnt almonds on a cake. +Then there were the antbear holes to reckon with, and the little swamps in the +hollows, and other agreeable surprises. But the rush and exhilaration of the +thing were too great to allow him much time to think of his neck, so away they +flew, hanging on to the cart as best they could, and trusting to Providence to +save them from complete disaster. Now they were bounding over an antheap, now +one of the horses was on his nose, but somehow they always escaped the last +dire catastrophe, thanks chiefly to the little Hottentot’s skilful +driving. +</p> + +<p> +Whenever the game was within range they pulled up, and John would spring from +the cart and let drive, then jump in and follow on again. This went on for +nearly an hour, in which time he had fired twenty-seven cartridges and killed +three blesbuck and wounded a vilderbeeste, which they proceeded to chase. But +the vilderbeeste was struck in the rump, and an antelope so wounded will travel +far, and go very fast also, so that some miles of ground had been covered +before it began to rest, only to start on again as they drew near. At last, on +crossing the crest of a little rise, John saw what at first he took to be his +vilderbeeste, dead. A second look, however, showed him that, although it was a +dead vilderbeeste, most undoubtedly it was not the one which he had wounded, +for that animal was standing, its head hanging, about one hundred and twenty +yards beyond the other buck, which, no doubt, had fallen to somebody +else’s rifle, or else had been hit farther back and come here to die. Now +this vilderbeeste lay within a hundred yards of them, and Jantje pointed out to +John that his best plan would be to get out of the cart and creep on his hands +and knees up to the dead animal, from the cover of which he would get a good +shot at his own wounded bull. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly Jantje having withdrawn with the cart and horses out of sight under +the shelter of the rise, John crouched upon his hands and knees and proceeded +to carry out his stalk. All went well till he was quite close to the dead cow, +and was congratulating himself on the prospect of an excellent shot at the +wounded bull, when suddenly something struck the ground violently just beneath +his body, throwing up a cloud of earth and dust. He stopped amazed, and at that +instant heard the report of a rifle somewhat to his right and knew that a +bullet had passed beneath him. Scarcely had he realised this when there was a +sudden commotion in his hair, and the soft black felt hat that he was wearing +started from his head, apparently of its own accord, and, after twirling round +twice or thrice in the air, fell gently to the earth, just as the sound of a +second report reached his ears. It was now evident that somebody was firing at +him; so, jumping up from his crouching position, John tossed his arms into the +air and sprang and shouted in a way that left no mistake as to his whereabouts. +In another minute he saw a man on horseback, cantering easily towards him, in +whom he had little difficulty in recognising Frank Muller. He picked up his +hat; there was a bullet-hole right through it. Then, full of wrath, he advanced +to meet Frank Muller. +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil do you mean by firing at me?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Allemachter, carle!</i>” (Almighty, my dear fellow) was the +cool answer, “I thought that you were a vilderbeeste calf. I galloped the +cow and killed her, and she had a calf with her, and when I got the cartridges +out of my rifle—for one stuck and took me some time—and the new +ones in, I looked up, and there, as I thought, was the calf. So I got my rifle +on and let drive, first with one barrel and then with the other, and when I saw +you jump up like that and shout, and that I had been firing at a man, I nearly +fainted. Thank the Almighty I did not hit you.” +</p> + +<p> +John listened coldly. “I suppose that I am bound to believe you, +<i>Meinheer</i> Muller,” he said. “But I have been told that you +have the most wonderful sight of any man in these parts, which makes it odd +that at three hundred yards you should mistake a man upon his hands and knees +for a vilderbeeste calf.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does the Captain think, then, that I wished to murder him; +especially,” he added, “after I shook his hand this morning?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what I think,” answered John, looking straight +into Muller’s eyes, which fell before his own. “All I know is that +your curious mistake very nearly cost me my life. Look here!” and he took +a lock of his brown hair out of the crown of his perforated hat and showed it +to the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, it was very close. Let us thank God that you escaped.” +</p> + +<p> +“It could not well have been closer, <i>Meinheer</i>. I hope that, for +your own sake and for the sake of the people who go out shooting with you, you +will not make such a mistake again. Good-morning!” +</p> + +<p> +The handsome Boer, or Anglo-Boer, sat on his horse stroking his beautiful beard +and gazing curiously after John Niel’s sturdy English-looking figure as +he marched towards the cart, for, of course, the wounded vilderbeeste had long +ago vanished. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder,” he said to himself aloud, as he turned his +horse’s head and rode leisurely away, “if the old <i>volk</i> are +right after all, and if there is a God.” Frank Muller was sufficiently +impregnated with modern ideas to be a free-thinker. “It almost seems like +it,” he went on, “else how did it come that the one bullet passed +under his belly and the other just touched his head without harming him? I +aimed carefully enough too, and I could make the shot nineteen times out of +twenty and not miss. Bah, a God! I snap my fingers at Him. Chance is the only +god. Chance blows men about like the dead grass, till death comes down like the +veldt fire and devours them. But there are men who ride chance as one rides a +young colt—ay, who turn its headlong rushing and rearing to their own +ends—who let it fly hither and thither till it is weary, and then canter +it along the road that leads to triumph. I, Frank Muller, am one of those men. +I never fail in the end. I will kill that Englishman. Perhaps I will kill old +Silas Croft and the Hottentot too. Bah! they do not know what is coming. I +know; I have helped to lay the mine; and unless they bend to my will I shall be +the one to fire it. I will kill them all, and I will take Mooifontein, and then +I will marry Bessie. She will fight against it, but that will make it all the +sweeter. She loves that <i>rooibaatje</i>; I know it; and I will kiss her over +his dead body. Ah! there are the carts. I don’t see the Captain. Driven +home, I suppose, on account of the shock to his nerves. Well, I must talk to +those fools. Lord, what fools they are with their chatter about the +‘land,’ and the ‘<i>verdomde Britische +Gouvernment</i>.’ They don’t know what is good for them. Silly +sheep, with Frank Muller for a shepherd! Ay, and they shall have Frank Muller +for a president one day, and I will rule them too. Bah! I hate the English; but +I am glad that I am half English for all that, for that is where I get the +brains! But these people—fools, fools! Well, I shall pipe and they shall +dance!” +</p> + +<p> +“Baas,” said Jantje to John, as they were driving homewards, +“Baas Frank shot at you.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know that?” asked John. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw him. He was stalking the wounded bull, and not looking for a calf +at all. There was no calf. He was just going to fire at the wounded bull when +he turned and saw you, and he knelt down on one knee and covered you, and +before I could do anything he fired, and then when he saw that he had missed +you he fired again, and I don’t know how it was that he did not kill you, +for he is a wonderful shot with a rifle—he never misses.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will have the man tried for attempted murder,” said John, +bringing the butt-end of his rifle down with a bang on to the bottom of the +cart. “A villain like that shall not go scot-free.” +</p> + +<p> +Jantje grinned. “It is no use, Baas. He would get off, for I am the only +witness. A jury won’t believe a black man in this country, and they would +never punish a Boer for shooting at an Englishman. No, Baas! you should lie up +one day in the veldt where he is going to pass and shoot <i>him</i>. That is +what I would do if I dared.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br/> +ON THE BRINK</h2> + +<p> +For a few weeks after John Niel’s adventure at the shooting-party no +event of any importance occurred at Mooifontein. Day followed day in charming +monotony, for, whatever “gay worldlings” may think, monotony is as +full of charm as a dreamy summer afternoon. “Happy is the country that +has no history,” says the voice of wisdom, and the same remark may be +made with even more truth of the individual. To get up in the morning conscious +of health and strength, to pursue the common round and daily task till evening +comes, and finally to go to bed pleasantly tired and sleep the sleep of the +just, is the true secret of happiness. Fierce excitements, excursions, and +alarms do not conduce either to mental or physical well-being, and it is for +this reason that we find that those whose lives have been chiefly concerned +with them crave the most after the quiet round of domestic life. When they get +it, often, it is true, they pant for the ardours of the fray whereof the dim +and distant sounds are echoing through the spaces of their heart, in the same +way that the countries without a history are sometimes anxious to write one in +their own blood. But that is a principle of Nature, who will allow of no +standing still among her subjects, and who has ordained that strife of one sort +or another shall be the absolute condition of existence. +</p> + +<p> +On the whole, John found that the life of a South African farmer came well up +to his expectations. He had ample occupation; indeed, what between ostriches, +horses, cattle, sheep, and crops, he was rather over than under occupied. Nor +was he much troubled by the lack of civilised society, for he was a man who +read a great deal, and books could be ordered from Durban and Cape Town, while +the weekly mail brought with it a sufficient supply of papers. On Sundays he +always read the political articles in the “Saturday Review” aloud +to Silas Croft, who, as he grew older, found that the print tried his eyes, an +attention which the old man greatly appreciated. Silas was a well-informed man, +and notwithstanding his long life spent in a half-civilised country, had never +lost his hold of affairs or his interest in the wide and rushing life of the +world in one of whose side eddies he lived apart. This task of reading the +“Saturday Review” aloud had formerly been a part of Bessie’s +Sunday service, but her uncle was very glad to effect an exchange. +Bessie’s mind was not quite in tune with the profundities of that learned +journal, and her attention was apt to wander at the most pointed passages. +</p> + +<p> +Thus it came about, what between the “Saturday Review” and other +things, that a very warm and deep attachment sprang up twixt the old man and +his younger partner. John was a taking man, especially to the aged, for whom he +was never tired of performing little services. One of his favourite sayings was +that old people should be “let down easy,” and he acted up to it. +Moreover, there was a quiet jollity and a bluff honesty about him which was +undoubtedly attractive both to men and women. Above all, he was a +well-informed, experienced man, and a gentleman, in a country in which both +were rare. Each week Silas Croft came to rely more and more on him, and allowed +things to pass more and more into his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m getting old, Niel,” he said to him one night; +“I’m getting very old; the grasshopper is becoming a burden to me: +and I’ll tell you what it is, my boy,” laying his hand +affectionately upon John’s shoulder, “I have no son of my own, and +you must be a son to me, as my dear Bessie has been a daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +John looked up into the kindly, handsome face, crowned with its fringe of snowy +hair, and at the keen eyes set deep in it beneath the overhanging brows, and +thought of his old father who was long since dead; and somehow he was moved, +and his own eyes filled with tears. +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, Mr. Croft,” he said, taking the old man’s hand, +“that I will to the best of my ability.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, my boy, thank you. I don’t like talking much about +these things, but, as I said, I am getting old, and the Almighty may require my +account any hour, and if He does I rely on you to look after these two girls. +It is a wild country this, and one never knows what will happen in it from day +to day, and they may want help. Sometimes I wish I were clear of the place. And +now I’m going to bed. I am beginning to feel as though I had done my +day’s work in the world. I’m getting feeble John, this is the fact +of it.” +</p> + +<p> +After that he always called him John. +</p> + +<p> +Of Jess they heard but little. She wrote every week, it is true, and gave an +accurate account of all that was going on at Pretoria and of her daily doings, +but she was one of those people whose letters tell one absolutely nothing of +themselves and of what is passing in their minds. They ought to have been +headed “Our Pretoria Letter,” as Bessie said disgustedly after +reading through three sheets in Jess’s curious, upright handwriting. +“Once you lose sight of Jess,” she went on, “she might as +well be dead for all you learn about her. Not that one learns very much when +she is here,” she added reflectively. +</p> + +<p> +“She is a peculiar woman,” said John thoughtfully. At first he had +missed her very much, for, strange as she undoubtedly was, she had touched a +new string in him, of the existence of which he had not till then been himself +aware. And what is more, it had answered strongly enough for some time; but now +it was slowly vibrating itself into silence again, much as a harp does when the +striker takes his fingers from the strings. Had she stayed on another week or +so the effect might have been more enduring. +</p> + +<p> +But although Jess had gone away Bessie had not. On the contrary, she was always +about him, surrounding him with that tender care a woman, however +involuntarily, cannot prevent herself from lavishing on the man she loves. Her +beauty moved about the place like a beam of light about a garden, for she was +indeed a lovely woman, and as pure and good as she was lovely. Nor could John +long remain in ignorance of her liking for himself. He was not a vain +man—very much the reverse, indeed—but neither was he a fool. And it +must be said that, though Bessie never overstepped the bounds of maidenly +reserve, neither did she take particular pains to hide her preference. Indeed, +it was too strong to permit her so to do. Not that she was animated by the +half-divine, soul-searing breath of passion, such as animated her sister, which +is a very rare thing, and, take it altogether, as undesirable and unsuitable to +the ordinary conditions of this prosaic and work-a-day life as it is rare. But +she was tenderly and truly in love after the usual young-womanly fashion; +indeed, her passion, measured by the everyday standard, would have proved to be +a deep one. However this might be, she was undoubtedly prepared to make John +Niel a faithful and loving wife if he chose to ask her to marry him. +</p> + +<p> +And as the weeks went on—though, of course, he knew nothing of all +this—it became a very serious question to John whether he should not ask +her. It is not good for a man to live alone, especially in the Transvaal, and +it was not possible for him to pass day by day at the side of so much beauty +and so much grace without thinking that it would be well to draw the bond of +union closer. Indeed, had John been a younger man of less experience, he would +have succumbed to the temptation much sooner than he did. But he was neither +very young nor very inexperienced. Ten years or more ago, in his green and +gushing youth, as has been said, he had burnt his fingers to the bone, and a +lively recollection of this incident in his career heretofore had proved a very +efficient warning. Also, he had reached that period of life when men think a +great many times before they commit themselves wildly to the deep matrimonial +waters. At three-and-twenty, for the sake of a pretty face, most of us are +willing to undertake the serious and in many cases overwhelming burdens, risks, +and cares of family life, and the responsibility of the parentage of a large +and healthy brood, but at three-and-thirty we take a different view of the +matter. The temptation may be great, but the per contra list is so very +alarming, and we never know even then if we see all the liabilities. Such are +the black thoughts that move in the breasts of selfish men, to the great +disadvantage of the marriage market; and however it may lower John Niel in the +eyes of those who take the trouble to follow this portion of his life’s +history, in the interests of truth it must be confessed that he was not free +from them. +</p> + +<p> +In short, sweet and pretty as Bessie might be, he was not violently in love +with her; and at thirty-four a man must be violently in love to rush into the +near risk of matrimony. But, however commendably cautious that man may be, he +is always liable to fall into temptation sufficiently strong to sweep away his +caution and make a mockery of his plans. However strong the rope, it has its +breaking strain; and in the same way our power of resistance to any given +course depends entirely upon the power of the temptation to draw us into it. +Thus it was destined to be with our friend John Niel. +</p> + +<p> +It was about a week after his conversation with old Silas Croft that it +occurred to John that Bessie’s manner had grown rather strange of late. +It seemed to him that she had avoided his society instead of showing a certain +partiality for it, if not of courting it. Also, she had looked pale and +worried, and evinced a tendency to irritation that was quite foreign to her +natural sweetness of character. Now, when a person on whom one is accustomed to +depend for most of that social intercourse and those pleasant little amenities +which members of one sex value from another, suddenly cuts off the supply +without any apparent rhyme or reason, it is enough to induce a feeling of +wonder, not to say of vexation, in the breast. It never occurred to John that +the reason might be that Bessie was truly fond of him, and perhaps +unconsciously disappointed that he did not show a warmer interest in her. If, +however, we were to examine into the facts of the case we should probably +discover that here was the real explanation of this change. Bessie was a +straightforward young person, whose mind and purposes were as clear as running +water. She was vexed with John—though she would probably not have owned +it even to herself in so many words—and her manner reflected the +condition of her mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Bessie,” said John one lovely day, just as the afternoon was +merging into evening, “Bessie”—he always called her Bessie +now—“I am going down to the black wattle plantation by the big +mealie patch. I want to see how those young trees are doing. If you have done +your cooking”—for she had been engaged in making a cake, as young +ladies, to their souls’ health, often have to do in the +Colonies—“I wish you would put on your hat and come with me. I +don’t believe that you have been out to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, Captain Niel, I don’t think that I want to come +out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t know—because there is too much to do. If I go +out that stupid girl will burn the cake,” and she pointed to a Kafir +<i>intombi</i> (young girl), who, arrayed in a blue smock, a sweet smile, and a +feather stuck in her wool, was vigorously employed in staring at the flies on +the ceiling and sucking her black fingers. “Really,” she added with +a little stamp, “one needs the patience of an angel to put up with that +idiot’s stupidity. Yesterday she smashed the biggest dinner-dish and then +brought me the pieces with a broad grin on her face and asked me to ‘make +them one’ again. The white people were so clever, she said, it would be +no trouble to me. If they could make the china plate once, and could cause +flowers to grow on it, it would surely be easy to make it whole again. I did +not know whether to laugh or cry or throw the pieces at her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, young woman,” said John, taking the sinning girl by the +arm and leading her solemnly to the oven, which was opened to receive the cake; +“look here, if you let that cake burn while the <i>inkosikaas</i> (lady +chieftain) is away, when I come back I will cram you into the oven to burn with +it. I cooked a girl like that in Natal last year, and when she came out she was +quite white!” +</p> + +<p> +Bessie translated this fiendish threat, whereat the girl grinned from ear to +ear and murmured “<i>Koos</i>” (chief) in cheerful acquiescence. A +Kafir maid on a pleasant afternoon is not troubled by the prospect of being +baked at nightfall, which is a long way off, especially when it is John Niel +who threatened the baking. The natives about Mooifontein had taken the measure +of John’s foot by this time with accuracy. His threats were awful, but +his performances were not great. Once, indeed, he was forced to engage in a +stand-up fight with a great fellow who thought that he could be taken advantage +of on this account, but after he had succeeded in administering a sound hiding +to that champion he was never again troubled in this respect. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” he said, “I think we have provided for the safety of +your cake, so come on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, Captain Niel,” answered Bessie, looking at him in a +bewitching little way she well knew how to assume, “thank you, but I +think I had rather not go out walking.” This was what she said, but her +eyes added, “I am offended with you; I want to have nothing to do with +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said John; “then I suppose I must go +alone,” and he took up his hat with the air of a martyr. +</p> + +<p> +Bessie looked through the open kitchen door at the lights and shadows that +chased each other across the swelling bosom of the hill behind the house. +</p> + +<p> +“It certainly is very fine,” she said; “are you going +far?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, only round the plantation.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are so many puff-adders down there, and I hate snakes,” +suggested Bessie, by way of finding another excuse for not coming. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’ll look after the puff-adders—come along.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she said at last, as she slowly unrolled her sleeves, which +had been tucked up during the cake-making, and hid her beautiful white arms, +“I will come, not because I want to come, but because you have +over-persuaded me. I don’t know what is happening to me,” she +added, with a little stamp and a sudden filling of her eyes with tears, +“I do not seem to have any will of my own left. When I want to do one +thing and you want me to do another it is I who have to do what you want; and I +tell you I don’t like it, Captain Niel, and I shall be very cross out +walking;” and sweeping past him, on her way to fetch her hat, in that +peculiarly graceful fashion which angry women can sometimes assume, she left +John to reflect that he never saw a more charming or taking lady in Europe or +out of it. +</p> + +<p> +He had half a mind to risk it and ask her to marry him. But then, perhaps, she +might refuse him, and that was a contingency which he did not quite appreciate. +After their first youth few men altogether relish the idea of putting +themselves in a position that gives a capricious woman an opportunity of first +figuratively “jumping” on them, and then perhaps holding them up to +the scorn and obloquy of her friends, relations, and other admirers. For, +unfortunately, until the opposite is clearly demonstrated, many men are apt to +believe that not a few women are by nature capricious, shallow, and unreliable; +and John Niel, owing, possibly, to that unhappy little experience of his youth, +must be reckoned among their misguided ranks. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br/> +OVER IT</h2> + +<p> +On leaving the house Bessie and John took their way down the long avenue of +blue gums. This avenue was old Silas Croft’s particular pride, since +although it had only been planted for about twenty years, the trees, which in +the divine climate and virgin soil of the Transvaal grow at the most +extraordinary rate, were for the most part very lofty, and as thick in the stem +as English oaks of a hundred and fifty years’ standing. The avenue was +not over wide, and the trees were planted quite close one to another, with the +result that their brown, pillar-like stems shot up for many feet without a +branch, whilst high overhead the boughs crossed and intermingled in such a way +as to form a leafy tunnel, through which the landscape beyond appeared as +though through a telescope. +</p> + +<p> +Down this charming avenue John and Bessie walked, and on reaching its limit +they turned to the right and followed a little footpath winding in and out of +the rocks that built up the plateau on the hillside whereon the house stood. +Presently this led them through the orchard; then came a bare strip of veldt, a +very dangerous spot in a thunderstorm, but a great safeguard to the stead and +trees round it, for the ironstone cropped up here, and from the house one might +often see flash after flash striking down on to it, and even running and +zigzagging about its surface. To the left of this ironstone were some +cultivated lands, and in front of them the plantation, in which John was +anxious to inspect the recently planted wattles. +</p> + +<p> +They walked up to the copse without saying a word. It was surrounded by a ditch +and a low sod wall, whereon Bessie seated herself, remarking that she would +wait there till he had looked at the trees, as she was afraid of the +puff-adders, whereof a large and thriving family were known to live in this +plantation. +</p> + +<p> +John assented, observing that the puff-adders were brutes, and that he must +have some pigs turned in to destroy them, which the pigs effect by munching +them up, apparently without unpleasant consequences to themselves. Then he +departed on his errand, wending his way gingerly through the feathery black +wattles. It did not take long, and he saw no puff-adders. When he had finished +looking at the young trees, he returned, still walking delicately like Agag. On +reaching the border of the plantation, he paused to look at Bessie, who was +some twenty paces from him, perched sideways on the low sod wall, and framed, +as it were, in the full rich light of the setting sun. Her hat was off, for the +sun had lost its burning force, and the hand that held it hung idly by her, +while her eyes were fixed on the horizon flaming with all the varied glories of +an African sunset. He gazed at her sweet face and lissom form, and some lines +that he had read years before floated into his mind— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +The little curls about her head<br/> +Were all her crown of gold,<br/> +Her delicate arms drooped downwards<br/> +In slender mould,<br/> +As white-veined leaves of lilies<br/> +Curve and fold.<br/> +She moved to measures of music,<br/> +As a swan sails the stream— +</p> + +<p> +He had got thus far when she turned and saw him, and he abandoned poetry in the +presence of one who might well have inspired it. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you looking at?” she said with a smile; “the +sunset?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I was looking at you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you might have been better employed with the sky,” she +answered, turning her head quickly. “Look at it! Did you ever see such a +sunset? We sometimes get them like that at this time of year when the +thunderstorms are about.” +</p> + +<p> +She was right; it was glorious. The heavy clouds which a couple of hours before +had been rolling like celestial hearses across the azure deeps were now aflame +with glory. Some of them glowed like huge castles wrapped in fire, others with +the dull red heat of burning coal. The eastern heaven was one sheet of +burnished gold that slowly grew to red, and higher yet to orange and the +faintest rose. To the left departing sunbeams rested lovingly on grey +Quathlamba’s crests, even firing the eternal snows that lay upon his +highest peak, and writing once more upon their whiteness the record of another +day fulfilled. Lower down the sky floated little clouds, flame-flakes fallen +from the burning mass above, and on the earth beneath lay great depths of +shadow barred with the brightness of the dying light. +</p> + +<p> +John stood and gazed at it, and its living, glowing beauty seemed to fire his +imagination, as it fired earth and heaven, in such sort that the torch of love +lit upon his heart like the sunbeams on the mountain tops. Then from the +celestial beauty of the skies he turned to look at the earthly beauty of the +woman who sat there before him, and found that also fair. Whether it was the +contemplation of the glories of Nature—for there is always a suspicion of +melancholy in beautiful things—or whatever it was, her face had a touch +of sadness on it that he had never seen before, and which certainly added to +its charm as a shadow adds to the charm of the light. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you thinking of, Bessie?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +She looked up, and he saw that her lips were quivering a little. “Well, +do you know,” she said, “oddly enough, I was thinking of my mother. +I can only just recall her, a woman with a thin, sweet face. I remember one +evening she was sitting in front of a house while the sun was setting as it is +now, and I was playing by her, when suddenly she called me to her and kissed +me, then pointed to the red clouds that were gathered in the sky, and said, +‘I wonder if you will ever think of me, dear, when I have passed through +those golden gates?’ I did not understand what she meant, but somehow I +have remembered the words, and though she died so long ago, I do often think of +her;” and two large tears rolled down her face as she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +Few men can bear to see a sweet and pretty woman in tears, and this little +incident was too much for John, whose caution and doubts all went to the winds +together. +</p> + +<p> +“Bessie,” he said, “don’t cry, dear; please, +don’t! I can’t bear to see you cry.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked up as though to remonstrate at his words, then she looked down +again. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, Bessie,” he went on awkwardly enough, “I have +something to say to you. I want to ask you if—if, in short, you will +marry me. Wait a bit, don’t say anything yet; you know me pretty well by +now. I am no chicken, dear, and I have knocked about the world a good deal, and +had one or two love affairs like other people. But, Bessie, I never met such a +sweet woman, or, if you will let me say it, such a lovely woman as you are, and +if you will have me, dear, I think that I shall be the luckiest man in South +Africa;” and he stopped, not knowing exactly what else to say, and +feeling that the time had not come for action, if indeed it was to come at all. +</p> + +<p> +When first she understood the drift of his talk Bessie had flushed up to the +eyes, then the blood sank back to her breast, and left her as pale as a lily. +She loved the man, and they were happy words to her, and she was satisfied with +them, though perhaps some women might have thought that they left a good deal +to be desired. But Bessie was not of an exacting nature. +</p> + +<p> +At last she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure,” she asked, “that you mean all this? You know +sometimes people say things of a sudden, upon an impulse, and afterwards they +wish they never had been said. Then it would be rather awkward supposing I were +to say ‘yes,’ would it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I am sure,” he said indignantly. +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” went on Bessie, poking at the sod wall with the stick +she held in her hand, “perhaps in this place you might be putting an +exaggerated value on me. You think I am pretty because you see nobody but Kafir +and Boer women, and it would be the same with everything. I’m not fit to +marry such a man as you,” she went on, with a sudden burst of distress; +“I have never seen anything or anybody. I am nothing but an ignorant, +half-educated farmer girl, with nothing to recommend me, and no fortune except +my looks. You are different to me; you are a man of the world, and if ever you +went back to England I should be a drag on you, and you would be ashamed of me +and my colonial ways. If it had been Jess now, it would have been different, +for she has more brains in her little finger than I have in my whole +body.” +</p> + +<p> +Somehow this mention of Jess jarred upon John’s nerves, and chilled him +like a breath of cold wind on a hot day. He wanted to put Jess out of his mind +just now. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Bessie,” he broke in, “why do you suppose such +things? I can assure you that, if you appeared in a London drawing-room, you +would put most of the women into the shade. Not that there is much chance of my +frequenting London drawing-rooms again,” he added. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes! I may be good-looking; I don’t say that I am not; but +can’t you understand, I do not want you to marry me just because I am a +pretty woman, as the Kafirs marry their wives? If you marry me at all I want +you to marry me because you care for <i>me</i>, the real <i>me</i>, not my eyes +and my hair. Oh, I don’t know what to answer you! I don’t +indeed!” and she began to cry softly. +</p> + +<p> +“Bessie, dear Bessie!” said John, who was pretty well beside +himself by this time, “just tell me honestly—do you care about me? +I am not worth much, I know, but if you do all this goes for nothing,” +and he took her hand and drew her towards him, so that she half slipped, half +rose from the sod wall and stood face to face with him, for she was a tall +woman, and they were very nearly of a height. +</p> + +<p> +Twice she raised her beautiful eyes to his to answer and twice her courage +failed her; then at last the truth broke from her almost with a cry: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, John, I love you with all my heart!” +</p> + +<p> +And now it will be well to drop a veil over the rest of these proceedings, for +there are some things that should be sacred, even from the pen of the +historian, and the first transport of the love of a good woman is one of them. +</p> + +<p> +Suffice it to say that they sat there side by side on the sod wall, and were +happy as people ought to be under such circumstances, till the glory departed +from the western sky and the world grew cold and pale, till the night came down +and hid the mountains, and only the stars and they were left to look out across +the dusky distances of the wilderness of plain. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Meanwhile a very different scene was being enacted up at the house half a mile +away. +</p> + +<p> +Not more than ten minutes after John and his lady-love had departed on that +fateful walk to look at the young trees, Frank Muller’s stalwart form, +mounted on his great black horse, was to be seen leisurely advancing towards +the blue-gum avenue. Jantje was lurking about between the stems of the trees in +the peculiar fashion that is characteristic of the Hottentot, and which +doubtless is bred into him after tens of centuries of tracking animals and +hiding from enemies. There he was, slipping from trunk to trunk, and gazing +round him as though he expected each instant to discover the assegai of an +ambushed foe or to hear the footfall of some savage beast of prey. Absolutely +there was no reason why he should behave in this fashion; he was simply +indulging his natural instincts where he thought nobody would observe him. Life +at Mooifontein was altogether too tame and civilised for Jantje’s taste, +and he needed periodical recreations of this sort. Like a civilised child he +longed for wild beasts and enemies, and if there were none at hand he found a +reflected satisfaction in making a pretence of their presence. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, however, whilst they were yet a long way off, his quick ear caught +the sound of the horse’s footfalls, and he straightened himself and +listened. Not satisfied with the results, he laid himself down, put his ear to +the earth, and gave a guttural sound of satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“Baas Frank’s black horse,” Jantje muttered to himself. +“The black horse has a cracked heel, and one foot hits the ground more +softly than the others. What is Baas Frank coming here for? After Missie I +think. He would be mad if he knew that Missie went down to the plantation with +Baas Niel just now. People go into plantations to kiss each other” +(Jantje was not far out there), “and it would make Baas Frank mad if he +knew that. He would strike me if I told him, or I would tell him.” +</p> + +<p> +The horse’s hoofs were drawing near by now, so Jantje slipped as easily +and naturally as a snake into a thick tuft of rank grass which grew between the +blue gums, and waited. Nobody would have guessed that this tuft of grass hid a +human being; not even a Boer would have guessed it, unless he had happened to +walk right on to the spy, and then it would have been a chance but that the +Hottentot managed to avoid being trodden on and escaped detection. Again there +was no reason why he should hide himself in this fashion, except that it +pleased him to do so. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the big horse approached, and the snakelike Hottentot raised his head +ever so little and peered out with his beady black eyes through the straw-like +grass stems. They fell on Muller’s cold face. It was evident that he was +in a reflective mood—in an angrily reflective mood. So absorbed was he +that he nearly let his horse, which was also absorbed by the near prospect of a +comfortable stall, put his foot in a big hole that a wandering antbear had +amused himself on the previous night by digging exactly in the centre of the +road. +</p> + +<p> +“What is Baas Frank thinking of, I wonder?” said Jantje to himself +as horse and man passed within four feet of him. Then rising, he crossed the +road, and slipping round by a back way like a fox from a covert, was standing +at the stable-door with a vacant and utterly unobservant expression of face +some seconds before the black horse and its rider had reached the house. +</p> + +<p> +“I will give them one more chance, just one more,” thought the +handsome Boer, or rather half-breed—for it will be remembered that his +mother was English—“and if they won’t take it, then let their +fate be upon their own heads. To-morrow I go to the <i>bymakaar</i> at Paarde +Kraal to take counsel with Paul Krüger and Pretorius, and the other +‘fathers of the land,’ as they call themselves. If I throw in my +weight against rebellion there will be no rebellion; if I urge it there will +be, and if <i>Oom</i> Silas will not give me Bessie, and Bessie will not marry +me, I will urge it even if it plunge the whole country in war from the Cape to +Waterberg. Patriotism! Independence! Taxes!—that is what they will cry +till they begin to believe it themselves. Bah! those are not the things that I +would go to war for; but ambition and revenge, ah! that is another matter. I +would kill them all if they stood in my way, all except Bessie. If war breaks +out, who will hold up a hand to help the ‘<i>verdomde +Engelsmann</i>’? They would all be afraid. And it is not my fault. Can I +help if it I love that woman? Can I help it if my blood dries up with longing +for her, and if I lie awake hour by hour of nights, ay, and weep—I, Frank +Muller, who saw the murdered bodies of my father and my mother and shed no +tear—because she hates me and will not look favourably upon me? +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, woman! woman! They talk of ambition and of avarice and of +self-preservation as the keys of character and action, but what force is there +to move us like a woman? A little thing, a weak fragile thing—a toy from +which the rain will wash the paint and of which the rust will stop the working, +and yet a thing that can shake the world and pour out blood like water, and +bring down sorrow like the rain. So! I stand by the boulder. A touch and it +will go crashing down the mountain-side so that the world hears it. Shall I +send it? It is all one to me. Let Bessie and <i>Oom</i> Silas judge. I would +slaughter every Englishman in the Transvaal to gain Bessie—ay! and every +Boer too, and throw all the natives in;” and he laughed aloud, and struck +the great black horse, making it plunge and caper gallantly. +</p> + +<p> +“And then,” he went on, giving his ambition wing, “when I +have won Bessie, and we have kicked all these Englishmen out of the land, in a +very few years I shall rule this country, and what next? Why, then I will stir +up the Dutch feeling in Natal and in the old Colony, and we will push the +Englishmen back into the sea, make a clean sweep of the natives, only keeping +enough for servants, and have a united South Africa, like that poor silly man +Burgers used to prate of, but did not know how to bring about. A united Dutch +South Africa, and Frank Muller to rule it! Well, such things have been, and may +be again. Give me forty years of life and strength, and we shall +see——” +</p> + +<p> +Just then he reached the verandah of the house, and, dismissing his secret +ambitions from his mind, Frank Muller dismounted and entered. In the +sitting-room he found Silas Croft reading a newspaper. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-day, <i>Oom</i> Silas,” he said, extending his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-day, <i>Meinheer</i> Frank Muller,” replied the old man very +coldly, for John had told him of the incident at the shooting-party which so +nearly ended fatally, and though he made no remark he had formed his own +conclusions. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you reading about in the <i>Volkstem</i>, <i>Oom</i> +Silas—about the Bezuidenhout affair?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; what was that?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was that the <i>volk</i> are rising against you English, that is all. +The sheriff seized Bezuidenhout’s waggon in execution of taxes, and put +it up to sale at Potchefstroom. But the <i>volk</i> kicked the auctioneer off +the waggon and hunted him round the town; and now Governor Lanyon is sending +Raaf down with power to swear in special constables and enforce the law at +Potchefstroom. He might as well try to stop a river by throwing stones. Let me +see, the big meeting at Paarde Kraal was to have been on the fifteenth of +December, now it is to be on the eighth, and then we shall know if it will be +peace or war.” +</p> + +<p> +“Peace or war?” answered the old man testily. “That has been +the cry for years. How many big meetings have there been since Shepstone +annexed the country? Six, I think. And what has come of it all? Just nothing +but talk. And what can come of it? Suppose the Boers did fight, what would the +end of it be? They would be beaten, and a lot of people would be killed, and +that would be the end of it. You don’t suppose that England would give in +to a handful of Boers, do you? What did General Wolseley say the other day at +the dinner in Potchefstroom? Why, that the country would never be given up, +because no Government, Conservative, Liberal, or Radical, would dare to do it. +And now this new Gladstone Government has telegraphed the same thing, so what +is the use of all the talk and childishness? Tell me that, Frank Muller.” +</p> + +<p> +Muller laughed as he answered, “You are all very simple people, you +English. Don’t you know that a government is like a woman who cries +‘No, no, no,’ and kisses you all the time? If there is noise enough +your British Government will eat its words and give Wolseley, and Shepstone, +and Bartle Frere, and Lanyon, and all of them the lie. This is a bigger +business than you think for, <i>Oom</i> Silas. Of course all these meetings and +talk are got up. The people are angry because of the English way of dealing +with the natives, and because they have to pay taxes; and they think, now that +you British have paid their debts and smashed up Sikukuni and Cetewayo, that +they would like to have the land back. They were glad enough for you to take it +at first; now it is another matter. But still that is not much. If they were +left to themselves nothing would come of it except talk, for many of them are +very glad that the land should be English. But the men who pull the strings are +down in the Cape. They want to drive every Englishman out of South Africa. When +Shepstone annexed the Transvaal he turned the scale against the Dutch element +and broke up the plans they have been laying for years to make a big +anti-English republic of the whole country. If the Transvaal remains British +there is an end of their hopes, for only the Free State is left, and it is +hemmed in. That is why they are so angry, and that is why their tools are +stirring up the people. They mean to make them fight now, and I think that they +will succeed. If the Boers win the day, they will declare themselves; if not, +you will hear nothing of them, and the Boers will bear the brunt of it. They +are very cunning people the Cape ‘patriots,’ but they look well +after themselves.” +</p> + +<p> +Silas Croft looked troubled, but made no answer, and Frank Muller rose and +stared out of the window. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br/> +FRANK MULLER SHOWS HIS HAND</h2> + +<p> +Presently Muller turned round. “Do you know why I have told you all this, +<i>Oom</i> Silas?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I want you to understand that you and all the Englishmen in this +country are in a very dangerous position. The war is coming, and whether it +goes for you or against you, you must suffer. You Englishmen have many enemies. +You have got all the trade and own nearly half the land, and you are always +standing up for the black people, whom the Boers hate. It will go hard with you +if there is a war. You will be shot and your houses will be burnt, and if you +lose the day those who escape will be driven out of the country. It will be the +Transvaal for the Transvaalers, then, and Africa for the Africanders.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Frank Muller, and if all this should come to pass, what of it? +What are you driving at, Frank Muller? You don’t show me your hand like +this for nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +The Boer laughed. “Of course I don’t, <i>Oom</i> Silas. Well, if +you want to know, I will tell you what I mean. I mean that I alone can protect +you and your place and people in the bad times which are coming. I have more +influence in the land than you know of. Perhaps even, I could stave off the +war, and if it suited me to do so I would do it. At the least I could keep you +from being harmed, that I know. But I have my price, <i>Oom</i> Silas, as we +all have, and it must be money down and no credit.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t understand you and your dark sayings,” said the old +man coldly. “I am a straightforward man, and if you will tell me what you +mean I will give you my answer; if not, I don’t see the good of our going +on talking.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; I will tell you what I mean. I mean <i>Bessie</i>. I mean +that I love your niece and want to marry her—ay, I mean to marry her by +fair means or foul—and that she will have nothing to say to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what have I to do with that, Frank Muller? The girl is her own +mistress. I cannot dispose of her in marriage, even if I wished it, as though +she were a colt or an ox. You must plead your own suit and take your own +answer.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have pleaded my suit and I have got my answer,” replied the Boer +with passion. “Don’t you understand, she will have nothing to say +to me? She is in love with that damned <i>rooibaatje</i> Niel whom you have +brought up here. She is in love with him, I say, and will not look at +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” replied Silas Croft calmly, “is it so? Then she shows +very good taste, for John Niel is an honest man, Frank Muller, and you are not. +Listen to me,” he went on, with a sudden outburst of passion; “I +tell you that you are a dishonourable man and a villain. I tell you that you +murdered the Hottentot Jantje’s father, mother, and uncle in cold blood +when you were yet a lad. I tell you that the other day you tried to murder John +Niel, pretending to mistake him for a buck! And now you, who petitioned for +this country to be taken over by the Queen, and have gone round singing out +your loyalty at the top of your voice, come and tell me that you are plotting +to bring about an insurrection, and to plunge the land into war, and ask me for +Bessie as the price of your protection! But I will tell you something in +answer, Frank Muller,” and the old man rose up, his keen eyes flashing in +wrath, and, straightening his bent frame, he pointed towards the door. +“Go out of that door and never come through it again. I rely upon God and +the English nation to protect me, and not on such as you, and I would rather +see my dear Bessie dead in her coffin than married to a knave and traitor and a +murderer like Frank Muller. Go!” +</p> + +<p> +The Boer turned white with fury as he listened. Twice he tried to speak and +failed, and when the words did come they were so choked and laden with passion +as to be scarcely audible. When thwarted he was liable to these accesses to +rage, and, speaking figuratively, they spoilt his character. Could he have kept +his head, he would have been a perfect and triumphant villain, but as it was, +the carefully planned and audacious rascality of years was always apt to be +swept away by the sudden gale of his furious passion. It was in such an +outburst of rage that he had assaulted John in the inn yard at Wakkerstroom, +and thereby put him on his guard against him, and now it mastered him once +more. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, Silas Croft,” he said at last, “I will go; but +mark this, I will come back, and when I come it shall be with men armed with +rifles. I will burn this pretty place of yours, that you are so proud of, over +your head, and I will kill you and your friend the Englishman, and take Bessie +away, and very soon she shall be glad enough to marry Frank Muller; but then I +will not marry her—no, not if she goes on her knees to me—and she +shall go on her knees often enough. We will see then what God and the English +nation will do to protect you. God and the English nation! Call on the sheep +and the horses; call on the rocks and the trees, and you will get a better +answer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go!” thundered the old man, “or by the God you blaspheme I +will put a bullet through you,” and he reached towards a rifle that hung +over the mantelpiece, “or my Kafirs shall whip you off the place.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank Muller waited no more. He turned and went. It was dark now, but there was +still some light in the sky at the end of the blue-gum avenue, and against it, +as he rode away, he discovered Bessie’s tall and graceful form softly +outlined upon the darkening night. John had left her to see about some pressing +matter connected with the farm, and there she stood, filled with the great joy +of a woman who has found her love, and loth as yet to break its spell by +entering again into the daily round of common life. +</p> + +<p> +There she stood, a type and symbol of all that is beautiful and gracious in +this rough world, the lovelights shining in her blue eyes and thoughts of happy +gratitude to the Giver of all good rising from her heart to Heaven, drawn up +thither, as it were, by the warmth of her pure passion, as the dew mists of the +morning are drawn upward by the sun. There she was, so good, so happy, and so +sweet; an answer to the world’s evil, a symbol of the world’s joy, +and an incarnation of the world’s beauty! Who but a merciful and almighty +Father can create children such as she, so lovely, so lovable, and set them on +the world as He sets the stars upon the sky to light it and make beholders +think of holy things, and who but man could have the heart to turn such as she +to the base uses whereto they are daily turned? +</p> + +<p> +Presently she heard the horse’s hoofs, and looked up, so that the faint +light fell full upon her face, idealising it, and making its passion-breathing +beauty seem more of Heaven than of earth. There was some look upon it, some +indefinable light that day—such is the power that Love has to infuse all +human things with the tint of his own splendour—that it went even to the +heart of the wild and evil man who adored her with the deep and savage force of +his dark nature. Was it well to meddle with her, and to build up plans for her +overthrow and that of all to whom she clung? Would it not be better to let her +be, to go his way and leave her to go hers in peace? She did not look quite +like a woman standing there, but more like something belonging to another +world, some subject of a higher rule. Men of powerful but undisciplined +intellect like Frank Muller are never entirely free from superstition, however +free they may be from religion, and he grew superstitious as he was apt to do. +Might there not be an unknown penalty for treading such a flower as that into +the mire—into mire mixed perchance with the blood of those she loved? +</p> + +<p> +For a few seconds he hesitated. Should he throw up the whole affair, leave the +rebellion to look after itself, marry one of Hans Coetzee’s daughters, +and trek to the old colony, or Bechuanaland, or anywhere? His hand began to +tighten on his bridle-rein and the horse to answer to the pressure. As a first +step towards it he would turn away to the left and avoid her, when suddenly the +thought of his successful rival flashed into his mind. What, leave her with +that man? Never! He had rather kill her with his own hand. In another second he +had sprung from his horse, and, before she guessed who it was, he was standing +face to face with her. The strength of his jealous desire overpowered him. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, I thought he had come after missie,” said Jantje, who, +pursuing his former tactics, was once more indulging his passion for slinking +about behind trees and in tufts of grass. “Now what will missie +say?” +</p> + +<p> +“How are you, Bessie?” said Muller in a quiet voice, but she, +looking into his face, saw that it belied the voice. It was alive with evil +passions that seemed to make it positively lurid, an effect that its undoubted +beauty only intensified. +</p> + +<p> +“I am quite well, thank you, Mr. Muller,” she answered as she began +to move homewards, commanding her voice as well as she could, but feeling +dreadfully frightened and lonely. She knew something of her admirer’s +character, and feared to be left alone with him so far from any help, for +nobody was about now, and they were more than three hundred yards from the +house. +</p> + +<p> +He stood before her so that she could not pass without actually pushing by him. +“Why are you in such a hurry?” he said. “You were standing +still enough just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is time for me to be going in. I want to see about the supper.” +</p> + +<p> +“The supper can wait awhile, Bessie, and I cannot wait. I am starting for +Paarde Kraal to-morrow at day-break, and I want to say good-bye to you +first.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye,” she said, more frightened than ever at his curious +constrained manner, and she held out her hand. +</p> + +<p> +He took it and retained it. +</p> + +<p> +“Please let me go,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Not till you have heard what I have to say. Look here, Bessie, I love +you with all my heart. I know you think I am only a Boer, but I am more than +that. I have been to the Cape and seen the world. I have brains, and can see +and understand things, and if you will marry me I will lift you up. You shall +be one of the first ladies in Africa, though I am only plain Frank Muller now. +Great things are going to happen in the country, and I shall be at the head of +them, or near it. No, don’t try to get away. I tell you I love you, you +don’t know how. I am dying for you. Oh! can’t you believe me? my +darling! my darling! Yes, I <i>will</i> kiss you,” and in an agony of +passion, that her resistance only fired the more, he flung his strong arms +round her and drew her to his breast, fight as she would. +</p> + +<p> +But at this opportune moment an unexpected diversion occurred, of which the +hidden Jantje was the cause. Seeing that matters were becoming serious, and +being afraid to show himself lest Frank Muller should kill him then and there, +as indeed he would have been quite capable of doing, he hit upon another +expedient, to the service of which he brought a ventriloquistic power that is +not uncommon among natives. Suddenly the silence was broken by a frightful and +prolonged wail that seemed to shape itself into the word “Frank,” +and to proceed from the air just above the struggling Bessie’s head. The +effect produced upon Muller was something wonderful. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Allemachter!</i>” he cried, looking up, “it is my +mother’s voice!” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Frank!</i>” wailed the voice again, and he let go of Bessie in +his perplexity and fear, and turned round to try and discover whence the sound +proceeded—a circumstance of which that young lady took advantage to beat +a rapid if not very dignified retreat. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Frank! Frank! Frank!</i>” wailed and howled the voice, now +overhead, now on this side, now on that, till at last Muller, thoroughly +mystified and feeling his superstitious fears rising apace as the moaning sound +flitted about beneath the dark arch of the gum-trees, made a rush for his +horse, which was snorting and trembling in every limb. It is almost as easy to +work upon the superstitious fears of a dog or a horse as upon those of a man, +but Muller, not being aware of this, took the animal’s alarm as a clear +indication of the uncanny nature of the voice. With a single bound he sprang +into his saddle, and as he did so the woman’s voice wailed out once +more— +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Frank</i>, thou shalt die in blood as I did, Frank!” +</p> + +<p> +Muller turned livid with fear, and the cold perspiration streamed from his +face. He was a bold man enough physically, but this was too much for his +nerves. +</p> + +<p> +“It is my mother’s voice, they are her very words!” he called +out aloud, then, dashing his spurs into his horse’s flanks, he went like +a flash far from the accursed spot; nor did he draw rein till he came to his +own place ten miles away. Twice the horse fell in the darkness, for there was +no moon, the second time throwing him heavily, but he only dragged it up with +an oath, and springing into the saddle again fled on as before. +</p> + +<p> +Thus the man who did not hesitate to plot and to execute the cruel slaughter of +unoffending men cowered beneath the fancied echo of a dead woman’s voice! +Truly human nature is full of contradictions. +</p> + +<p> +When the thunder of the horse’s hoofs grew faint Jantje emerged from one +of his hiding-places, and, throwing himself down in the centre of the dusty +road, kicked and rolled with delight, shaking all the while with an inward joy +to which his habits of caution would not permit him to give audible vent. +“His mother’s voice, his mother’s words,” he quoted to +himself. “How should he know that Jantje remembers the old woman’s +voice—ay, and the words that the devil in her spoke too? Hee! hee! +hee!” +</p> + +<p> +Finally he departed to eat his supper of beef, which he had cut off an +unfortunate ox which that morning had expired of a mysterious complication of +diseases, filled with a happy sense that he had not lived that day in vain. +</p> + +<p> +Bessie fled without stopping till she reached the orange-trees in front of the +verandah, where, reassured by the lights from the windows, she paused to +consider. Not that she was troubled by Jantje’s mysterious howling; +indeed, she was too preoccupied to give it a second thought. What she debated +was whether she should say anything about her encounter with Frank Muller. +Young ladies are not, as a rule, too fond of informing their husbands or lovers +that somebody has kissed them; first, because they know it will force them to +make a disturbance and possibly to place themselves in a ridiculous position; +and, secondly, because they fear lest suspicious man might take the story with +a grain of salt, and suggest even that they, the kissed, were themselves to +blame. Both these reasons presented themselves to Bessie’s practical +mind, also a further one, namely, that he had not kissed her after all. So on a +rapid review of the whole case she came to the decision to say nothing to John +about it, and only enough to her uncle to make him forbid Frank Muller the +house—an unnecessary precaution, as the reader will remember. Then, after +pausing for a few seconds to pick a branch of orange blossom and to recover +herself generally, which, not being hysterically inclined, she very soon did, +she entered the house quietly as though nothing had happened. The very first +person she met was John himself, who had come in by the back way. He laughed at +her orange-blossom bouquet, and said that it was most appropriate, then +proceeded to embrace her tenderly in the passage; and indeed he would have been +a poor sort of lover if he had not. It was exactly at this juncture that old +Silas Croft happened to open the sitting-room door and became the spectator of +this surprising and attractive tableau. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I never!” said the old gentleman. “What is the meaning +of all this, Bessie?” +</p> + +<p> +Of course there was nothing for it but to advance and explain the facts of the +case, which John did with much humming and ha-ing and a general awkwardness of +manner that baffles description, while Bessie stood by, her hand upon her +lover’s shoulder, blushing as red as any rose. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Croft listened in silence till John had finished, a smile upon his face and +a kindly twinkle in his keen eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“So,” he said, “that is what you young people have been +after, is it? I suppose that you want to enlarge your interests in the farm, +eh, John? Well, upon my word, I don’t blame you; you might have gone +farther and fared worse. These sort of things never come singly, it seems. I +had another request for your hand, my dear, only this afternoon, from that +scoundrel Frank Muller, of all men in the world,” and his face darkened +as he said the name. “I sent him off with a flea in his ear, I can tell +you. Had I known then what I know now, I should have referred him to John. +There, there! He is a bad man, and a dangerous man, but let him be. He is +taking plenty of rope, and he will hang himself one of these days. Well, my +dears, this is the best bit of news that I have heard for many a long year. +It’s time you got married, both of you, for it is not right for man to +live alone, or woman either. I have done it all my life, and that is the +conclusion I have come to after thinking the matter over for somewhere about +fifty years. Yes, you have my consent and my blessing too, and you will have +something more one day before so very long. Take her, John, take her. I have +led a rough life, but I have seen somewhat of women for all that, and I tell +you that there is not a sweeter or a prettier girl in South Africa than Bessie +Croft, and in wanting to marry her you have shown your sense. God bless you +both, my dears; and now, Bessie, come and give your old uncle a kiss. I hope +that you won’t let John quite drive me out of your head, that’s +all, for you see, my dear, having no children of my own, I have managed to grow +very fond of you in the last twelve years or so.” +</p> + +<p> +Bessie kissed the old man tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +“No, uncle,” she answered, “neither John nor anybody nor +anything in the world can do that,” and it was evident from her manner +that she meant what she said. Bessie had a large heart, and was not at all the +person to let her lover drive her uncle and benefactor out of his share +thereof. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br/> +JOHN TO THE RESCUE</h2> + +<p> +The important domestic events described in the last chapter took place on +December 7, 1880, and for the next twelve days or so everything went as happily +at Mooifontein as things should go under the circumstances. Every day Silas +Croft beamed with an enlarged geniality in his satisfaction at the turn that +matters had taken, and every day John found cause to congratulate himself more +and more on the issue of his bold venture towards matrimony. Now that he came +to be on such intimate terms with his betrothed, he perceived a hundred charms +and graces in her nature which before he had never suspected. Bessie was like a +flower: the more she basked in the light and warmth of her love the more her +character opened and unfolded, shedding perfumed sweetness around her and +revealing unguessed charms. It is so with all women, and more especially with a +woman of her stamp, whom Nature has made to love and be loved as maid and wife +and mother. Her undoubted personal beauty shared also in this development, her +fair face taking a richer hue and her eyes an added depth and meaning. She was +in every respect, save one, all that a man could desire in his wife, and even +the exception would have stood to her credit with many men. It was this: she +was not an intellectual person, although certainly she possessed more than the +ordinary share of intelligence and work-a-day common sense. Now John was a +decidedly intellectual man, and, what is more, he highly appreciated that rare +quality in the other sex. But, after all, when one is just engaged to a sweet +and lovely woman, one does not think much about her intellect. Those +reflections come afterwards. +</p> + +<p> +And so they sauntered hand in hand through the sunny days and were happy +exceedingly. Least of all did they allow the rumours which reached them from +the great Boer gathering at Paarde Kraal to disturb their serenity. There had +been so many of these reports of rebellion that folk were beginning to regard +them as a chronic state of affairs. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the Boers!” said Bessie, with a pretty toss of her golden +head, as they were sitting one morning on the verandah. “I am sick to +death of hearing about the Boers and all their got-up talk. I know what it is; +it is just an excuse for them to go away from their farms and wives and +children and idle about at these great meetings, and drink +‘square-face’ with their mouths full of big words. You see what +Jess says in her last letter. People in Pretoria believe that it is all +nonsense from beginning to end, and I think they are perfectly right.” +</p> + +<p> +“By the way, Bessie,” asked John, “have you written to Jess +telling her of our engagement?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, I wrote some days ago, but the letter only went yesterday. She +will be pleased to hear about it. Dear old Jess, I wonder when she means to +come home again. She has been away long enough.” +</p> + +<p> +John made no answer, but went on smoking his pipe in silence, wondering if Jess +would be pleased. He did not understand her yet. She had gone away just as he +was beginning to understand her. +</p> + +<p> +Presently he observed Jantje sneaking about between the orange-trees as though +he wished to call attention to himself. Had he not wanted to do so he would +have moved from one to the other in such a way that nobody could have seen him. +His partial and desultory appearances indicated that he was on view. +</p> + +<p> +“Come out of those trees, you little rascal, and stop slipping about like +a snake in a stone wall!” shouted John. “What is it you +want—wages?” +</p> + +<p> +Thus adjured, Jantje advanced and sat down on the path, as usual in the full +glare of the sun. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Baas,” he said, “it is not wages. They are not due +yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Baas, it is this. The Boers have declared war on the English +Government, and they have eaten up the <i>rooibaatjes</i> at Bronker’s +Spruit, near Middleburg. Joubert shot them all there the day before +yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” shouted John, letting his pipe fall in his astonishment. +“Stop, though, that must be a lie. You say near Middleburg, the day +before yesterday: that would be December 20. When did you hear this?” +</p> + +<p> +“At daybreak, Baas. A Basutu told me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then there is an end of it. The news could not have reached here in +thirty-eight hours. What do you mean by coming to me with such a tale?” +</p> + +<p> +The Hottentot smiled. “It is quite true, Baas. Bad news flies like a +bird,” and he picked himself up and slipped off to his work. +</p> + +<p> +Notwithstanding the apparent impossibility of the thing, John was considerably +disturbed, knowing the extraordinary speed with which tidings do travel among +Kafirs, more swiftly, indeed, than the fleetest mounted messenger can bear +them. Leaving Bessie, who was also somewhat alarmed, he went in search of Silas +Croft, and, finding him in the garden, told him what Jantje had said. The old +man did not know what to make of the tale, but, remembering Frank +Muller’s threats, he shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“If there is any truth in it, that villain Muller has a hand in +it,” he said. “I’ll go to the house and see Jantje. Give me +your arm, John.” +</p> + +<p> +He obeyed, and, on arriving at the top of the steep path, they perceived the +stout figure of old Hans Coetzee, who had been John’s host at the +shooting-party, ambling along on his fat little pony. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said Silas, “here is the man who will tell us if there +is anything in it all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good-day, <i>Oom</i> Coetzee, good-day!” he shouted out in his +stentorian tones. “What news do you bring with you?” +</p> + +<p> +The jolly-looking Boer rolled awkwardly off his pony before answering, and, +throwing the reins over its head, came to meet them. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Allemachter</i>, <i>Oom</i> Silas, it is bad news. You have heard of +the <i>bymakaar</i> at Paarde Kraal. Frank Muller wanted me to go, but I would +not, and now they have declared war on the British Government and sent a +proclamation to Lanyon. There will be fighting, <i>Oom</i> Silas, the land will +run with blood, and the poor <i>rooibaatjes</i> will be shot down like +buck.” +</p> + +<p> +“The poor Boers, you mean,” growled John, who did not like to hear +her Majesty’s army talked of in terms of regretful pity. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Oom</i> Coetzee shook his head with the air of one who knew all about it, +and then turned an attentive ear to Silas Croft’s version of +Jantje’s story. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Allemachter!</i>” groaned Coetzee, “what did I tell you? +The poor <i>rooibaatjes</i> shot down like buck, and the land running with +blood! And now that Frank Muller will draw me into it, and I shall have to go +and shoot the poor <i>rooibaatjes</i>; and I can’t miss, try as hard as I +will, I <i>can’t</i> miss. And when we have shot them all I suppose that +Burgers will come back, and he is <i>kransick</i> (mad). Yes, yes; Lanyon is +bad, but Burgers is worse,” and the comfortable old gentleman groaned +aloud at the troubles in which he foresaw he would be involved, and finally +took his departure by a bridle-path over the mountain, saying that, as things +had turned out, he would not like it to be known that he had been calling on an +Englishman. “They might think that I was not loyal to the +‘land,’” he added in explanation; “the land which we +Boers bought with our blood, and which we shall win back with our blood, +whatever the poor ‘pack oxen’ of <i>rooibaatjes</i> try to do. Ah, +those poor, poor <i>rooibaatjes</i>, one Boer will drive away twenty of them +and make them run across the veldt, if they can run in those great knapsacks of +theirs, with the tin things hanging round them like the pots and kettles to the +bed-plank of a waggon. What says the Holy Book? ‘One thousand shall flee +at the rebuke of one, and at the rebuke of five shall ye flee,’ at least +I think that is it. The dear Lord knew what was coming when He wrote it. He was +thinking of the Boers and the poor <i>rooibaatjes</i>,” and Coetzee +departed, shaking his head sadly. +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad that the old gentleman has made tracks,” said John, +“for if he had gone on much longer about the poor English soldiers he +would have fled ‘at the rebuke of one,’ I can tell him.” +</p> + +<p> +“John,” said Silas Croft suddenly, “you must go up to +Pretoria and fetch Jess. Mark my words, the Boers will besiege Pretoria, and if +we don’t get her down at once she will be shut up there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no,” cried Bessie, in sudden alarm, “I cannot let John +go.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry to hear you talk like that, Bessie, when your sister is in +danger,” answered her uncle rather sternly; “but there, I dare say +that it is natural. I will go myself. Where is Jantje? I shall want the Cape +cart and the four grey horses.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, uncle dear, John shall go. I was not thinking what I was saying. It +seemed—a little hard at first.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I must go,” said John. “Don’t fret, dear, I +shall be back in five days. Those four horses can go sixty miles a day for that +time, and more. They are fat as butter, and there is lots of grass along the +road if I can’t get forage for them. Besides, the cart will be nearly +empty, so I can carry a muid of mealies and fifty bundles of forage. I will +take that Zulu boy, Mouti, with me. He does not know very much about horses, +but he is a plucky fellow, and would stick by one at a pinch. One can’t +rely on Jantje; he is always sneaking off somewhere, and would be sure to get +drunk just as one wanted him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, John, that’s right, that’s right,” said the +old man. “I will go and see about having the horses got up and the wheels +greased. Where is the castor-oil, Bessie? There is nothing like castor-oil for +these patent axles. You ought to be off in an hour. You had better sleep at +Luck’s to-night; you might get farther, but Luck’s is a good place +to stop, and they will look after you well there, and you can be off by three +in the morning, reaching Heidelberg by ten o’clock to-morrow night, and +Pretoria by the next afternoon,” and he bustled away to make the +necessary preparations. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, John,” said Bessie, beginning to cry, “I don’t +like your going at all among all those wild Boers. You are an English officer, +and if they find you out they will shoot you. You don’t know what brutes +some of them are when they think it safe to be so. Oh, John, John, I +can’t endure your going.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cheer up, my dear,” said John, “and for Heaven’s sake +stop crying, for I cannot bear it. I must go. Your uncle would never forgive me +if I did not, and, what is more, I should never forgive myself. There is nobody +else to send, and we can’t leave Jess to be shut up there in +Pretoria—for months perhaps. As for the risk, of course there is a little +risk, but I must take it. I am not afraid of risks—at least I used not to +be, but you have made a bit of a coward of me, Bessie dear. There, give me a +kiss, old girl, and come and help me to pack my things. Please God I shall get +back all right, and Jess with me, in a week from now.” +</p> + +<p> +Whereon Bessie, being a sensible and eminently practical young woman, dried her +tears, and with a cheerful face, albeit her heart was heavy enough, set to work +with a will to make every possible preparation. +</p> + +<p> +The few clothes John was to take with him were packed in a Gladstone bag, the +box fitted underneath the movable seat in the Cape cart was filled with the +tinned provisions which are so much used in South Africa, and all the other +little arrangements, small in themselves, but of such infinite importance to +the traveller in a wild country, were duly attended to by her careful hands. +Then came a hurried meal, and before it was swallowed the cart was at the door, +with Jantje hanging as usual on to the heads of the two front horses, and the +stalwart Zulu, or rather Swazi boy, Mouti, whose sole luggage appeared to +consist of a bundle of assegais and sticks wrapped up in a grass mat, and who, +hot as it was, was enveloped in a vast military great-coat, lounging placidly +alongside. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, John, dear John,” said Bessie, kissing him again and +again, and striving to keep back the tears that, do what she could, would +gather in her blue eyes. “Good-bye, my love.” +</p> + +<p> +“God bless you, dearest,” he said simply, kissing her in answer; +“good-bye, Mr. Croft. I hope to see you again in a week,” and he +was in the cart and had gathered up the long and intricate-looking reins. +Jantje let go the horses’ heads and uttered a whoop. Mouti, giving up +star-gazing, suddenly became an animated being and scrambled into the cart with +surprising alacrity; the horses sprang forward at a hand gallop, and were soon +hidden from Bessie’s dim sight in a cloud of dust. Poor Bessie, it was a +hard trial, and now that John had gone and her tears could not distress him, +she went into her room and gave way to them freely enough. +</p> + +<p> +John reached Luck’s, a curious establishment on the Pretoria road, such +as are to be met with in sparsely populated countries, combining the +characteristics of an inn, a shop, and a farm-house. It was not an inn and not +a farm-house, strictly speaking, nor was it altogether a shop, although there +was a “store” attached. If the traveller is anxious to obtain +accommodation for man and beast at a place of this stamp he has to proceed +warily, so to say, lest he should be requested to move on. He must advance, hat +in hand, and ask to be taken in as a favour, as many a stiff-necked wanderer, +accustomed to the obsequious attentions of “mine host,” has learnt +to his cost. There is no such dreadful autocrat as your half-and-half innkeeper +in South Africa, and then he is so completely master of the situation. +“If you don’t like it, go and be d—d to you,” is his +simple answer to the remonstrances of the infuriated voyager. Then you must +either knock under and look as though you liked it, or trek on into the +“unhostelled” wilderness. But on this occasion John fared well +enough. To begin with, he knew the owners of the place, who were very civil +people if approached in a humble spirit, and, furthermore, he found everybody +in such a state of unpleasurable excitement that they were only too glad to get +another Englishman with whom to talk over matters. Not that their information +amounted to much, however. There was a rumour of the Bronker’s Spruit +disaster and other rumours of the investment of Pretoria, and of the advance of +large bodies of Boers to take possession of the pass over the Drakensberg, +known as Laing’s Nek, but there was no definite intelligence. +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t get into Pretoria,” said one melancholy man, +“so it’s no use trying. The Boers will just catch you and kill you, +and there will be an end of it. You had better leave the girl to look after +herself and go back to Mooifontein.” +</p> + +<p> +But this was not John’s view of the matter. “Well,” he +answered, “at any rate I’ll have a try.” Indeed, he had a +sort of bull-dog nature about him which led him to believe that if he made up +his mind to do a thing, he would do it somehow, unless he should be physically +incapacitated by circumstances beyond his own control. It is wonderful how far +a mood of the kind will take a man. Indeed, it is the widespread possession of +this sentiment that has made England what she is. Now it is beginning to die +down and to be legislated out of our national character, and the results are +already commencing to appear in the incipient decay of our power. We cannot +govern Ireland. It is beyond us; let Ireland have Home Rule! We cannot cope +with our Imperial responsibilities; let them be cast off: and so on. The +Englishmen of fifty years ago did not talk in this “weary Titan” +strain. +</p> + +<p> +Well, every nation becomes emasculated sooner or later, that seems to be the +universal fate; and it appears that it is our lot to be emasculated, not by the +want of law but by a plethora thereof. This country was made, not by +Governments, but for the most part in despite of them by the independent +efforts of generations of individuals. The tendency nowadays is to merge the +individual in the Government, and to limit or even forcibly to destroy personal +enterprise and responsibility. Everything is to be legislated for or legislated +against. As yet the system is only in its bud. When it blooms, if it is ever +allowed to bloom, the Empire will lose touch of its constituent atoms and +become a vast soulless machine, which will first get out of order, then break +down, and, last of all, break up. We owe more to sturdy, determined, +unconvinceable Englishmen like John Niel than we know, or, perhaps, should be +willing to acknowledge in these enlightened days. “Long live the +Caucus!” that is the cry of the nineteenth century. But what will +Englishmen cry in the twentieth?[*] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] These words were written some ten years ago; but since then, with all +gratitude be it said, a change has come over the spirit of the nation, or +rather, the spirit of the nation has re-asserted itself. Though the +“Little England” party still lingers, it exists upon the edge of +its own grave. The dominance and responsibilities of our Empire are no longer a +question of party politics, and among the Radicals of to-day we find some of +the most ardent Imperialists. So may it ever be!—H. R. H. 1896. +</p> + +<p> +John resumed his perilous journey more than an hour before dawn on the +following morning. Nobody was stirring, and as it was practically impossible to +arouse the slumbering Kafirs from the various holes and corners where they were +taking their rest—for a native hates the cold of the dawning—Mouti +and he were obliged to harness the horses and inspan them without +assistance—an awkward job in the dark. At last, however, everything was +ready, and, as the bill had been paid overnight, there was nothing to wait for, +so they clambered into the cart and made a start. But before they had proceeded +forty yards, however, John heard a voice calling to him to stop. He did so, and +presently, holding a lighted candle which burnt without a flicker in the still +damp air, and draped from head to foot in a dingy-looking blanket, appeared the +male Cassandra of the previous evening. +</p> + +<p> +He advanced slowly and with dignity, as became a prophet, and at length reached +the side of the cart, where the sight of his illuminated figure and of the +dirty blanket over his head nearly made the horses run away. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” said John testily, for he was in no mood for delay. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I’d just get up to tell you,” replied the draped +form, “that I am quite sure that I was right, and that the Boers will +shoot you. I should not like you to say afterwards that I have not warned +you,” and he held up the candle so that the light fell on John’s +face, and gazed at it in fond farewell. +</p> + +<p> +“Curse it all,” said John in a fury, “if that was all you had +to say you might have kept in bed,” and he brought down his lash on the +wheelers and away they went with a bound, putting out the prophet’s +candle and nearly knocking the prophet himself backwards into the <i>sluit</i>. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap15"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br/> +A ROUGH JOURNEY</h2> + +<p> +The four greys were fresh horses, in good condition and with a light load +behind them, so, notwithstanding the bad state of the tracks which they call +roads in South Africa, John made good progress. +</p> + +<p> +By eleven o’clock that day he had reached Standerton, a little town upon +the Vaal, not far from which, had he but known it, he was destined to meet with +a sufficiently striking experience. Here he obtained confirmation of the +Bronker’s Spruit disaster, and listened with set face and blazing eyes to +the tale of treachery and death which was, as he said, without a parallel in +the annals of civilised war. But, after all, what does it matter?—a +little square of graves at Bronker’s Spruit, a few more widows and a +hundred or so of orphans. England, by her Government, answered the question +plainly—it matters very little. +</p> + +<p> +At Standerton John was again warned that it would be impossible for him to make +his way through the Boers at Heidelberg, a town about sixty miles from +Pretoria, where the Triumvirate, Krüger, Pretorious, and Joubert, had +proclaimed the Republic. But he answered as before, that he must go on till he +was stopped, and inspanning his horses set forward again, a little comforted by +the news that the Bishop of Pretoria, who was hurrying up to rejoin his family, +had passed through a few hours before, also intent upon running the blockade, +and that if he drove fast he might overtake him. +</p> + +<p> +On he went, hour after hour, over the great deserted plain, but he did not +succeed in catching up the Bishop. About forty miles from Standerton he saw a +waggon standing by the roadside, and halted to try if he could obtain any +information from its driver. But on investigation it became clear that the +waggon had been looted of the provisions and goods with which it was loaded and +the oxen driven off. Nor was this the only evidence of violence. Across the +disselboom of the waggon, its hands still clasping a long bamboo whip, as +though he had been trying to defend himself with it, lay the dead body of the +native driver. His face, John noticed, was so composed and peaceful, that had +it not been for the attitude and a neat little blue hole in the forehead, one +might have thought he was asleep, not dead. +</p> + +<p> +At sunset John outspanned his now flagging horses by the roadside, and gave +them each a couple of bundles of forage from the store that he had brought with +him. Whilst they were eating it, leaving Mouti to keep an eye to them, he +strolled away and sat down on a big ant-heap to think. It was a wild and +melancholy scene that stretched before and behind him. Miles upon miles of +plain, rolling east and west and north and south like the billows of a frozen +sea, only broken, far along the Heidelberg road, by some hills, known as Rooi +Koppies. Nor was this all. Overhead was blazing and burning one of those +remarkable sunsets which are sometimes seen in the South African summer time. +The sky was full of lowering clouds, and the sullen orb of the setting sun had +stained them perfectly blood-red. Blood-red they floated through the ominous +sky, and blood-red their shadows lay upon the grass. Even the air seemed red. +It looked as though earth and heaven had been steeped in blood; and, fresh as +John was from the sight of the dead driver, his ears yet tingling with the tale +of Bronker’s Spruit, it is not to be wondered at that the suggestive +sight oppressed him, seated in that lonely waste, with no company except the +melancholy “<i>kakara-kakara</i>” of an old black <i>koran</i> +hidden away somewhere in the grass. He was not much given to such reflections, +but he did begin to wonder whether this was the last journey of all the many he +had made during the past twenty years, and if for him a Boer bullet was about +to solve the mystery of life and death. +</p> + +<p> +Then he sank to the stage of depression that most people have made acquaintance +with at some time or another, when a man begins to ask, “What is the use +of it? Why were we born? What good do we do here? Why should we—as the +majority of mankind doubtless are—mere animals be laden up with sorrows +till at last our poor backs break? Is God powerful or powerless? If powerful, +why did He not let us sleep in peace, without setting us here to taste of every +pain and mortification, to become acquainted with every grief, and then to +perish miserably?” Old questions these, which the sprightly critic justly +condemns as morbid and futile, and not to be dangled before a merry world of +make-believe. Perhaps he is right. It is better to play at marbles on a +sepulchre than to lift the lid and peep inside. But, for all that, they +<i>will</i> arise when we sit alone at even in our individual wildernesses, +surrounded, perhaps, by mementoes of our broken hopes and tokens of our beloved +dead, strewn about us like the bleaching bones of the wild game on the veldt, +and in spirit watch the red sun of our existence sinking towards its vapoury +horizon. They <i>will</i> come even to the sanguine, successful man. One cannot +always play at marbles; the lid of the sepulchre will sometimes slip aside of +itself, and we <i>must</i> see. True, it depends upon individual disposition. +Some people can, metaphorically, smoke cigarettes and make puns by the +death-beds of their dearest friends, or even on their own. We should pray for a +disposition like that—it makes life more pleasant. +</p> + +<p> +By the time that the horses had eaten their forage and Mouti had forced the +bits into their reluctant mouths, the angry splendour of the sunset faded, and +the quiet night was falling over the glowing veldt like the pall on one scarce +dead. Fortunately for the travellers, there was a bright half moon, and by its +light John managed to direct the cart over many a weary mile. On he went for +hour after hour, keeping his tired horses to the collar as best he could, till +at last, about eleven o’clock, he saw the lights of Heidelberg before +him, and knew that the question of whether or no his journey was at an end +would speedily be decided for him. However, there was nothing for it but to go +on and take his chance of slipping through. Presently he crossed a little +stream, and distinguished the shape of a cart just ahead, around which men and +a couple of lanterns were moving. No doubt, John thought to himself, it was the +Bishop, who had been stopped by the Boers. He was quite close to the cart when +it moved on, and in another second he was greeted by the rough challenge of a +sentry, and caught sight of the cold gleam of a rifle barrel. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Wie da?</i>” (Who’s there?) +</p> + +<p> +“Friend!” he answered cheerfully, though feeling far from cheerful. +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause, during which the sentry called to another man, who came up +yawning, and saying something in Dutch. Straining his ears he caught the words, +“Bishop’s man,” and this gave him an idea. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you, Englishman?” asked the second man gruffly, holding up +a lantern to look at John, and speaking in English. +</p> + +<p> +“I am the Bishop’s chaplain, sir,” he answered mildly, trying +desperately to look like an unoffending clergyman, “and I want to get on +to Pretoria with him.” +</p> + +<p> +The man with the lantern inspected him closely. Fortunately John wore a dark +coat and a clerical-looking black felt hat; the same that Frank Muller had put +a bullet through. +</p> + +<p> +“He is a preacher fast enough,” said the one man to the other. +“Look, he is dressed like an old crow! What did <i>Oom</i> Krüger’s +pass say, Jan? Was it two carts or one that we were to let through? I think it +was one.” +</p> + +<p> +The other man scratched his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I think it was two,” he said. He did not like to confess to his +comrade that he could not read. “No, I am sure that it was two.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps we had better send up to <i>Oom</i> Krüger and ask?” +suggested the first man. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Oom</i> Krüger will be in bed, and he puts up his quills like a +porcupine if one wakes him,” was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Then let us keep the damned preaching Englishman till to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pray let me go on, gentlemen,” said John, still in his mildest +voice. “I am wanted to preach the Word at Pretoria, and to watch by the +wounded and dying.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” said the first man, “there will soon be plenty of +wounded and dying there. They will all be like the <i>rooibaatjes</i> at +Bronker’s Spruit. Lord, what a sight that was! But they will get the +Bishop, so they won’t want you. You can stop and look after our wounded +if the <i>rooibaatjes</i> manage to hit any of us.” And he beckoned to +him to come out of the cart. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo!” said the other man, “here is a bag of mealies. We +will commandeer that, anyhow.” And he took his knife and cut the line +with which the sack was fastened to the back of the cart, so that it fell to +the ground. “That will feed our horses for a week,” he said with a +chuckle, in which the other man joined. It was pleasant to become so easily +possessed of an unearned increment in the shape of a bag of mealies. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, are we to let the old crow go?” said the first man. +</p> + +<p> +“If we don’t let him go we shall have to take him up to +headquarters, and I want to sleep.” And he yawned. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, let him go,” said the other. “I think you are right. +The pass said two carts. Be off, you damned preaching Englishman!” +</p> + +<p> +John did not wait for any more, but laid the whip across the horses’ +backs with a will. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope we did right,” said the man with the lantern to the other +as the cart bumped off. “I am not sure he was a preacher after all. I +have half a mind to send a bullet after him.” But his companion, who was +very sleepy, gave no encouragement to the idea, so it dropped. +</p> + +<p> +On the following morning when Commandant Frank Muller—having heard that +his enemy John Niel was on his way up with the Cape cart and four grey +horses—ascertained that a vehicle answering to that description had been +allowed to pass through Heidelberg in the dead of night, his state of mind may +better be imagined than described. +</p> + +<p> +As for the two sentries, he tried them by court-martial and sent them to make +fortifications for the rest of the rebellion. Now they can neither of them hear +the name of a clergyman mentioned without breaking out into a perfect flood of +blasphemy. +</p> + +<p> +Luckily for John, although he had been delayed for five minutes or more, he +managed to overtake the cart in which he presumed the Bishop was ensconced. His +lordship had been providentially delayed by the breaking of a trace; otherwise, +it is clear that his self-nominated chaplain would never have got through the +steep streets of Heidelberg that night. The town was choked up with Boer +waggons, full of sleeping Boers. Over one batch of waggons and tents John saw +the Transvaal flag fluttering idly in the night breeze, marking, no doubt, the +headquarters of the Triumvirate, and emblazoned with the appropriate emblem of +an ox-waggon and an armed Boer. Once the cart ahead of him was stopped by a +sentry and some conversation ensued. Then it went on again; and so did John, +unmolested. It was weary work, that journey through Heidelberg, and full of +terrors for John, who every moment expected to be stopped and dragged off +ignominiously to gaol. The horses, too, were dead beat, and made frantic +attempts to turn and stop at every house. But, somehow, they won through the +little place, and then were halted once more. Again the first cart passed on, +but this time John was not so lucky. +</p> + +<p> +“The pass said one cart,” said a voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Yah, yah, one cart,” answered another. +</p> + +<p> +John again put on his clerical air and told his artless tale; but neither of +the men could understand English, so they went to a waggon that was standing +about fifty yards away, to fetch somebody who could. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, <i>Inkoos</i>,” whispered the Zulu Mouti, “drive on! +drive on!” +</p> + +<p> +John took the hint and lashed the horses with his long whip; while Mouti, +bending forward over the splashboard, thrashed the wheelers with a +<i>sjambock</i>. Off went the team in a spasmodic gallop, and it had covered a +hundred yards of ground before the two sentries realised what had happened. +Then they began to run after the cart shouting, but were soon lost in the +darkness. +</p> + +<p> +John and Mouti did not spare the whip, but pressed on up the stony hills on the +Pretoria side of Heidelberg without a halt. They were, however, unable to keep +up with the cart ahead of them, which was evidently more freshly horsed. About +midnight, too, the moon vanished altogether, and they must creep on as best +they could through the darkness. Indeed, so dark was it, that Mouti was obliged +to get out and lead the exhausted horses, one of which would now and again fall +down, to be cruelly flogged before it rose. Once, too, the cart very nearly +upset; and on another occasion it was within an inch of rolling down a +precipice. +</p> + +<p> +This went on till two in the morning, when John found that it was impossible to +force the wearied beasts a yard farther. So, having luckily come to some water +about fifteen miles out of Heidelberg, he halted, and after the horses had +drunk, gave them as much forage as they could eat. One lay down at once, and +refused to touch anything—a sure sign of great exhaustion; a second ate +lying down; but the other two filled themselves in a satisfactory way. Then +came a weary wait for the dawn. Mouti slept a little, but John did not dare to +do so. All he could do was to swallow a little <i>biltong</i> (dried game +flesh) and bread, drink some square-face and water, and then sit down in the +cart, his rifle between his knees, and wait for the light. At last it came, +lying on the eastern sky like a promise, and he once more fed the horses. And +now a new difficulty arose. The animal that would not eat was clearly too weak +to pull, so the harness had to be altered, and the three sound animals arranged +unicorn fashion, while the sick one was fastened to the rear of the cart. Then +they started again. +</p> + +<p> +By eleven o’clock they reached an hotel, or wayside house, known as +Ferguson’s, situate about twenty miles from Pretoria. It was empty, +except for a couple of cats and a stray dog. The inhabitants had evidently fled +from the Boers. Here John stabled and fed his horses, giving them all that +remained of the forage; and then, once more, inspanned for the last stage. The +road was dreadful; and he knew that the country must be full of hostile Boers, +but fortunately he met none. It took him four hours to cover the twenty miles +of ground; but it was not until he reached the <i>Poort</i>, or neck running +into Pretoria, that he saw a vestige of a Boer. Then he perceived two mounted +men riding along the top of a precipitous stone-strewn ridge, six hundred yards +or so from him. At first he thought that they were going to descend it, but +presently they changed their minds and got off their horses. +</p> + +<p> +While he was still wondering what this might portend, he saw a puff of white +smoke float up from where the men were, and then another. Next came the sharp +unmistakable “ping” of a bullet passing, as far as he could judge, +within some three feet of his head, followed by a second “ping,” +and a cloud of dust beneath the belly of the first horse. The two Boers were +firing at him. +</p> + +<p> +John did not wait for any more target practice, but, thrashing the horses to a +canter, drove the cart round a projecting bank before they could load and fire +again. After that, they troubled him no more. +</p> + +<p> +At last he reached the mouth of the <i>Poort</i>, and saw the prettiest of the +South African towns, with its red and white houses, its tall clumps of trees, +and pink lines of blooming rose hedges lying on the plain before him, all set +in the green veldt, made beautiful by the golden light of the afternoon, and he +thanked God for the sight. John knew that he was safe now, and let his tired +horses walk slowly down the hillside and across the space of plain beyond. To +his left were the gaol and the barrack-sheds, and gathered about them stood +hundreds of waggons and tents, towards which he drove. Evidently the town was +deserted and its inhabitants were in laager. When he was within half a mile or +so, a picket of mounted men rode out to meet him, followed by a miscellaneous +crowd on horseback and on foot. +</p> + +<p> +“Who goes there?” shouted a voice in honest English. +</p> + +<p> +“A friend who is uncommonly glad to see you,” John answered, with +that feeble jocosity in which we are all apt to indulge when at length a great +weight is lifted from our nerves. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap16"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br/> +PRETORIA</h2> + +<p> +Jess was not very happy at Pretoria previous to the unexpected outbreak of +hostilities. Most people who have made a great moral effort, and after some +severe mental struggle have entered on the drear path from self-sacrifice, +experience the reaction that will follow as certainly as the night follows the +day. It is one thing to renounce the light, to stand in the full glow of the +setting beams of our imperial joy and chant out our farewell, and quite another +to live alone in the darkness. For a little while memory may support us, but +memory grows faint. On every side is the thick, cheerless pall and that +stillness through which no sound comes. We are alone, quite alone, cut off from +the fellowship of the day, unseeing and unseen. More especially is this so when +the dungeon is of our own making, and we ourselves have shot its bolts. There +is a natural night that comes to all, and in its unwavering course swallows +every mortal hope and fear, for ever and for ever. To this we can more easily +resign ourselves, for we recognise the universal lot and bow ourselves beneath +the all-effacing hand. The earth does not pine when the daylight passes from +its peaks; it only sleeps. +</p> + +<p> +But Jess had buried herself and she knew it. There was no absolute need for her +to have sacrificed her affection to her sister’s: she had done so of her +own will, and at times not unnaturally she was regretful. Self-denial is a +stern-faced angel. If only we hold him fast and wrestle with him long enough he +will speak us soft words of happy sound, just as, if we wait long enough in the +darkness of the night, stars will come to share our loneliness. Still this is +one of those things that Time hides from us and only reveals at his own +pleasure; and, so far as Jess was concerned, his pleasure was not yet. +Outwardly, however, she showed no sign of her distress and of the passion which +was eating at her heart. She was pale and silent, it is true, but then she had +always been remarkable for her pallor and silence. Only she gave up her +singing. +</p> + +<p> +So the weeks passed very drearily for the poor girl, who was doing what other +people did—eating and drinking, riding, and going to parties like the +rest of the Pretoria world, till at last she began to think that she had better +be returning home again, lest she should wear out her welcome. And yet she +dreaded to do so, mindful of her daily prayer to be delivered from temptation. +As to what was happening at Mooifontein she was in almost complete ignorance. +Bessie wrote to her, of course, and so did her uncle once or twice, but they +did not tell her much of what she wanted to know. Bessie’s letters were, +it is true, full of allusions to what Captain Niel was doing, but she did not +go beyond that. Her reticence, however, told her observant sister more than her +words. Why was she so reticent? No doubt because things still hung in the +balance. Then Jess would think of what it all meant for her, and now and again +give way to an outburst of passionate jealousy which would have been painful +enough to witness if anybody had been there to see it. +</p> + +<p> +Thus the time went on towards Christmas, for Jess, having been warmly pressed +to do so, had settled to stay over Christmas and return to the farm with the +new year. There had been a great deal of talk in the town about the Boers, but +she was too much preoccupied with her own affairs to pay much attention to it. +Nor, indeed, was the public mind greatly moved; they were so much accustomed to +Boer scares at Pretoria, and hitherto these had invariably ended in smoke. But +all of a sudden, on the morning of the eighteenth of December, came the news of +the proclamation of the Republic. The town was thrown into a ferment, and there +arose a talk of going into laager, so that, anxious as she was to get away, +Jess could see no hope of returning to the farm till the excitement was over. +Then, a day or two later, Conductor Egerton came limping into Pretoria from the +scene of the disaster at Bronker’s Spruit, with the colours of the 94th +Regiment tied round his middle, and such a tale to tell that the blood went to +her heart and seemed to stagnate there as she listened. +</p> + +<p> +After that there was confusion worse confounded. Martial law having been +proclaimed, the town, which was large, straggling, and incapable of defence, +was abandoned, the inhabitants being ordered into laager on the high ground +overlooking the city. There they were, young and old, sick and well, delicate +women and little children, all crowded together in the open under the cover of +the fort, with nothing but canvas tents, waggons, and sheds to shelter them +from the fierce summer suns and rains. Jess shared a waggon with her friend and +her friend’s sister and mother, and found it rather a tight fit even to +lie down. Sleep with all the noises of the camp going on round her was almost +impossible. +</p> + +<p> +It was about three o’clock on the day following that first miserable +night in the laager when, by the last mail that passed into Pretoria, she +received Bessie’s letter, announcing her engagement to John. She took her +letter and went some way from the camp to the side of Signal Hill, where she +was not likely to be disturbed, and, finding a nook shaded by mimosa-trees, sat +down and broke the envelope. Before she had reached the foot of the first page +she saw what was coming and set her teeth. Then she read the long epistle +through from beginning to end without flinching, though the words of affection +seemed to burn her. So it had come at last. Well, she expected it, and had +plotted to bring it about, so really there was no reason in the world why she +should feel disappointed. On the contrary, she ought to rejoice, and for a +little while she really did rejoice in her sister’s happiness. It made +her glad to think that Bessie, whom she so dearly loved, was happy. +</p> + +<p> +And yet she felt angry with John with that sort of anger which we feel against +those who have blindly injured us. Why should it be in his power to hurt her so +cruelly? Still she hoped that he would be happy with Bessie, and then she hoped +that these wretched Boers would take Pretoria, and that she would be shot or +otherwise put out of the way. She had no heart for life; all the colour had +faded from her sky. What was she to do with her future? Marry somebody and busy +herself with rearing a pack of children? It would be a physical impossibility +to her. No, she would go away to Europe and mix in the great stream of life and +struggle with it, and see if she could win a place for herself among the people +of her day. She had it in her, she knew that; and now that she had put herself +out of the reach of passion she would be more likely to succeed, for success is +to the impassive, who are also the strong. She would not stop on the farm after +John and Bessie were married; she was quite determined as to that; nor, if she +could avoid it, would she return there before they were married. She would see +him no more, no more! Alas, that she had ever seen him. +</p> + +<p> +Feeling somewhat happier, or at any rate calmer, in this decision, she rose to +return to the noisy camp, extending her walk, however, by a detour towards the +Heidelberg road, for she was anxious to be alone as long as she could. She had +been walking some ten minutes when she caught sight of a cart that seemed +familiar to her, with three horses harnessed in front of it and one tied +behind, which were also familiar. There were many men walking alongside the +cart all talking eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +Jess halted to let the little procession go by, when suddenly she perceived +John Niel among these men and recognised the Zulu Mouti on the box. +<i>There</i> was the man whom she had just vowed never to see again, and the +sight of him seemed to take all her strength out of her, so that she felt +inclined to sink down upon the veldt. His sudden appearance was almost uncanny +in the sharpness of its illustration of her impotence in the hands of Fate. She +felt it then; all in an instant it seemed to be borne in upon her mind that she +could not help herself, but was only the instrument in the hands of a superior +power whose will she was fulfilling through the workings of her passion, and to +whom her individual fate was a matter of little moment. It was inconclusive +reasoning and perilous doctrine, but it must be allowed that the circumstances +gave it a colour of truth. And, after all, the border-line between fatalism and +free-will has never been quite authoritatively settled, even by St. Paul, so +perhaps she was right. Mankind does not like to admit it, but it is, at the +least, a question whether we can oppose our little wills against the forces of +a universal law, or derange the details of an unvarying plan to suit the petty +wants and hopes of individual mortality. Jess was a clever woman, but it would +take a wiser head than hers to know where or when to draw that red line across +the writings of our lives. +</p> + +<p> +On came the cart and the knot of men, then suddenly John looked up and saw her +gazing at him with those dark eyes that at times did indeed seem as though they +were the windows of her soul. He turned and said something to his companions +and to the Zulu Mouti, who went on with the cart, then he came towards her +smiling and with outstretched hand. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do, Jess?” he said. “So I have found you all +right?” +</p> + +<p> +She took his hand and answered, almost angrily, “Why have you come? Why +did you leave Bessie and my uncle?” +</p> + +<p> +“I came because I was sent, also because I wished it. I wanted to bring +you back home before Pretoria was besieged.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must have been mad! How could you expect to get back? We shall both +be shut up here together now.” +</p> + +<p> +“So it appears. Well, things might be worse,” he added cheerfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not think that anything could be worse,” she answered with a +stamp of her foot, then, quite thrown off her balance, she burst incontinently +into a flood of tears. +</p> + +<p> +John Niel was a very simple-minded man, and it never struck him to attribute +her grief to any other cause than anxiety at the state of affairs and at her +incarceration for an indefinite period in a besieged town that ran the daily +risk of being taken <i>vi et armis</i>. Still he was a little hurt at the +manner of his reception after his long and most perilous journey, which is not, +perhaps, to be wondered at. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Jess,” he said, “I think that you might speak a little +more kindly to me, considering—considering all things. There, don’t +cry, they are all right at Mooifontein, and I dare say that we shall win back +there somehow some time or other. I had a nice business to get here at all, I +can tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she stopped weeping and smiled, her tears passing away like a summer +storm. “How did you get through?” she asked. “Tell me all +about it, Captain Niel,” and accordingly he did. +</p> + +<p> +She listened in silence while he sketched the chief events of his journey, and +when he had done she spoke in quite a changed tone. +</p> + +<p> +“It is very good and kind of you to have risked your life like this for +me. Only I wonder that you did not all of you see that it would be of no use. +We shall both be shut up here together now, that is all, and that will be very +sad for you and Bessie.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! So you have heard of our engagement?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I read Bessie’s letter about a couple of hours ago, and I +congratulate you both very much. I think that you will have the sweetest and +loveliest wife in South Africa, Captain Niel; and I think that Bessie will have +a husband any woman might be proud of;” and she half bowed and half +curtseyed to him as she said it, with a graceful little air of dignity that was +very taking. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” he answered simply; “yes, I think I am a very +lucky fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” she said, “we had better go and see about the +cart. You will have to find a stand for it in that wretched laager. You must be +very tired and hungry.” +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes’ walk brought them to the cart, which Mouti had outspanned +close to Mrs. Neville’s waggon, where Jess and her friends were living, +and the first person they saw was Mrs. Neville herself. She was a good, +motherly colonial woman, accustomed to a rough life, and one not easily +disturbed by emergencies. +</p> + +<p> +“My goodness, Captain Niel!” she cried, as soon as Jess had +introduced him. “Well, you are plucky to have forced your way through all +those horrid Boers! I am sure I wonder that they did not shoot you or beat you +to death with <i>sjambocks</i>, the brutes. Not that there is much use in your +coming, for you will never be able to take Jess back till Sir George Colley +relieves us, and that can’t be for two months, they say. Well, there is +one thing; Jess will be able to sleep in the cart now, and you can have one of +the patrol-tents and camp alongside. It won’t be quite proper, perhaps, +but in these times we can’t stop to consider propriety. There, there, you +go off to the Governor. He will be glad enough to see you, I’ll be bound; +I saw him at the other end of the camp five minutes ago. We will have the cart +unpacked and arrange about the horses.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus adjured, John departed, and when he returned half an hour afterwards, +having told his eventful tale, which did not, however, convey any information +of general value, he was rejoiced to find that the process of “getting +things straight” was almost complete. What was better still, Jess had +fried him a beefsteak over the camp fire, and was now employed in serving it on +a little table by the waggon. He sat down on a stool and ate his meal heartily +enough, while Jess waited on him and Mrs. Neville chattered incessantly. +</p> + +<p> +“By the way,” she said, “Jess tells me that you are going to +marry her sister. Well, I wish you joy. A man wants a wife in this country. It +isn’t like England, where in five cases out of six he might as well go +and cut his throat as get married. It saves him money here, and children are a +blessing, as Nature meant them to be, and not a burden, as civilisation has +made them. Lord, how my tongue does run on! It isn’t delicate to talk +about children when you have only been engaged a couple of weeks; but, you see, +that’s what it comes to after all. She’s a pretty girl, Bessie, and +a good one too—I don’t know her much—though she hasn’t +got the brains of Jess here. That reminds me; as you are engaged to Bessie, of +course you can look after Jess, and nobody will think anything of it. Ah! if +you only knew what a place this is for talk, though their talk is pretty well +scared out of them now, I’m thinking. My husband is coming round +presently to the cart to help to get Jess’s bed into it. Lucky it’s +big. We are such a tight fit in that waggon that I shall be downright glad to +see the last of the dear girl; though, of course, you’ll both come and +take your meals with us.” +</p> + +<p> +Jess heard all this in silence. She could not well insist upon stopping in the +crowded waggon; it would be asking too much; and, besides, she had passed one +night there, and that was quite enough for her. Once she suggested that she +should try to persuade the nuns to take her in at the convent, but Mrs. Neville +suppressed the notion instantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Nuns!” she said; “nonsense. When your own +brother-in-law—at least he will be your brother-in-law if the Boers +don’t make an end of us all—is here to take care of you, +don’t talk about going to a parcel of nuns. It will be as much as they +can do to look after themselves, I’ll be bound.” +</p> + +<p> +As for John, he ate his steak and said nothing. The arrangement seemed a very +proper one to him. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap17"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br/> +THE TWELFTH OF FEBRUARY</h2> + +<p> +John soon settled down into the routine of camp life in Pretoria, which, after +one became accustomed to it, was not so disagreeable as might have been +expected, and possessed, at any rate, the merit of novelty. Although he was an +officer of the army, having several horses to ride and his services not being +otherwise required, John preferred, on the whole, to enrol himself in the corps +of mounted volunteers, known as the Pretoria Carbineers. This, in the humble +capacity of a sergeant, he obtained leave to do from the officer commanding the +troops. He was an active man, and his duties in connection with the corps kept +him fully employed during most of the day, and sometimes, when there was +outpost duty to be done, during a good part of the night too. For the rest, +whenever he returned to the cart—by which he had stipulated he should be +allowed to sleep in order to protect Jess in case of any danger—he always +found her ready to greet him, and every little preparation made for his comfort +that was possible under the circumstances. Indeed, as time went on, they +thought it more convenient to set up their own little mess instead of sharing +that of their friends. So every day they used to sit down to breakfast and dine +together at a little table contrived out of a packing-case, and placed under an +extemporised tent, for all the world like a young couple picnicking on their +honeymoon. Of course, the situation was very irksome in a way, but it is not to +be denied that it had a charm of its own. +</p> + +<p> +To begin with, once thoroughly known, Jess was one of the most delightful +companions possible to a man like John Niel. Never, till this long +<i>tete-a-tete</i> at Pretoria, had he guessed how powerful and original was +her mind, or how witty she could be when she liked. There was a fund of dry and +suggestive humour about her, which, although it would no more bear being +written down than champagne will bear standing in a tumbler, was very pleasant +to listen to, more especially as John soon discovered that he was the only +person so privileged. Her friends and relations had never suspected that Jess +was humorous. Another thing which struck him as time went on, was that she was +growing quite handsome. She had been very pale and thin when he reached +Pretoria, but before a month was over she had become, comparatively speaking, +stout, which was an enormous gain to her appearance. Her pale face, too, +gathered a faint tinge of colour that came and went capriciously, like +star-light on the water, and her beautiful eyes grew deeper and more beautiful +than ever. +</p> + +<p> +“Who would ever have thought that it was the same girl!” said Mrs. +Neville to him, holding up her hands as she watched Jess solemnly surveying a +half-cooked mutton chop. “Why, she used to be such a poor creature, and +now she’s quite a fine woman. And that with this life, too, which is +wearing me to a shadow and has half-killed my dear daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose it is being in the open air,” said John, it having never +occurred to him that the medicine that was doing Jess so much good might be +happiness. But so it was. After her first struggles came a lull, and then an +idea. Why should she not enjoy his society while she could? He had been thrown +into her way through no wish of hers. She had no desire to wean him from +Bessie; or, if she had the desire, it was one which she was far too honourable +a woman to entertain. He was perfectly innocent of the whole story; to him she +was the young lady who happened to be the sister of the woman he was going to +marry, that was all. Why should she not pluck her innocent roses whilst she +might? Jess forgot that the rose is a flower with a dangerous perfume, and one +that is apt to confuse the senses and turn the head. So she gave herself full +swing, and for some weeks went nearer to knowing what happiness really meant +than she ever had before. What a wonderful thing is the love of a woman in its +simplicity and strength, and how it gilds all the poor and common things of +life and even finds a joy in service! The prouder the woman the more delight +does she extract from her self-abasement before her idol. Only not many women +can love like Jess, and when they do almost invariably they make some fatal +mistake, whereby the wealth of their affection is wasted, or, worse still, +becomes a source of misery or shame to themselves and others. +</p> + +<p> +It was after they had been incarcerated in Pretoria for a month that a bright +idea occurred to John. About a quarter of a mile from the outskirts of the camp +stood a little house known, probably on account of its diminutive size, as +“The Palatial.” This cottage, like almost every other house in +Pretoria, had been abandoned to its fate, its owner, as it happened, being away +from the town. One day, in the course of a walk, John and Jess crossed the +little bridge that spanned the <i>sluit</i> and went in to inspect the place. +Passing down a path lined on either side with young blue gums, they reached the +little tin-roofed cottage. It consisted of two rooms—a bedroom and a +good-sized sitting-room, in which still stood a table and a few chairs, with a +stable and a kitchen at the back. They went in, sat down by the open door and +looked out. The garden of the cottage sloped down towards a valley, on the +farther side of which rose a wooded hill. To the right, too, was a hill clothed +in deep green bush. The grounds themselves were planted with vines, just now +loaded with bunches of ripening grapes, and surrounded by a beautiful hedge of +monthly roses that formed a blaze of bloom. Near the house, too, was a bed of +double roses, some of them exceedingly lovely, and all flowering with a +profusion unknown in this country. Altogether it was a delightful spot, and, +after the noise and glare of the camp, seemed a perfect heaven. So they sat +there and talked a great deal about the farm and old Silas Croft and a little +about Bessie. +</p> + +<p> +“This <i>is</i> nice,” said Jess presently, putting her hands +behind her head and looking out at the bush beyond. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said John. “I say, I’ve got a notion. I vote we +take up our quarters here—during the day, I mean. Of course we shall have +to sleep in camp, but we might eat here, you know, and you could sit here all +day; it would be as safe as a church, for those Boers will never try to storm +the town, I am sure of that.” +</p> + +<p> +Jess reflected, and soon came to the conclusion that it would be a charming +plan. Accordingly, next day she set to work and made the place as clean and +tidy as circumstances would allow, and they commenced house-keeping. +</p> + +<p> +The upshot of this arrangement was that they were thrown more together even +than before. Meanwhile the siege dragged its slow length along. No news +whatever reached the town from outside, but this did not trouble the +inhabitants very much, as they were sure that Colley was advancing to their +relief, and even got up sweep-stakes as to the date of his arrival. Now and +then a sortie took place, but, as the results attained were very small, and +were not, on the whole, creditable to our arms, perhaps the less said about +them the better. John, of course, went out on these occasions, and then Jess +would endure agonies that were all the worse because she was forced to conceal +them. She lived in constant terror lest he should be among the killed. However, +nothing happened to him, and things went on as usual till the twelfth of +February, when an attack was made on a place called the Red House Kraal, which +was occupied by Boers near a spot known as the Six-mile Spruit. +</p> + +<p> +The force, which was a mixed one, left Pretoria before daybreak, and John went +with it. He was rather surprised when, on going to the cart in which Jess +slept, to get some little thing before saddling up, he found her sitting on the +box in the night dews, a cup of hot coffee which she had prepared for him in +her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean by this, Jess?” he asked sharply. “I will +not have you getting up in the middle of the night to make coffee for +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not got up,” she answered quietly; “I have not been +to bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“That makes matters worse,” he exclaimed; but, nevertheless, he +drank the coffee and was glad of it, while she sat on the box and watched him. +</p> + +<p> +“Put on your shawl and wrap something over your head,” he said, +“the dew will soak you through. Look, your hair is all wet.” +</p> + +<p> +Presently she spoke. “I wish you would do something for me, John,” +for she called him John now. “Will you promise?” +</p> + +<p> +“How like a woman,” he said, “to ask one to promise a thing +without saying what it is.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to promise for Bessie’s sake, John.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what is it, Jess?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not to go on this sortie. You know you can easily get out of it if you +like.” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed. “You little silly, why not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t know. Don’t laugh at me because I am nervous. I +am afraid that—that something might happen to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he remarked consolingly, “every bullet has its +billet, and if it does I don’t see that it can be helped.” +</p> + +<p> +“Think of Bessie,” she said again. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, Jess,” he answered testily, “what is the good of +trying to take the heart out of a fellow like this? If I am going to be shot I +can’t help it, and I am not going to show the white feather, even for +Bessie’s sake; so there you are, and now I must be off.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are quite right, John,” she said quietly. “I should not +have liked to hear you say anything different, but I could not help speaking. +Good-bye, John; God bless you!” and she stretched out her hand, which he +took, and went. +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my word, she has given me quite a turn,” reflected John to +himself, as the troop crept on through the white mists of dawn. “I +suppose she thinks that I am going to be plugged. Perhaps I am! I wonder how +Bessie would take it. She would be awfully cut up, but I expect that she would +get over it pretty soon. Now I don’t think that Jess would shake off a +thing of that sort in a hurry. That is just the difference between the two; the +one is all flower and the other is all root.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he fell to wondering how Bessie was, and what she was doing, and if she +missed him as much as he missed her, and so on, till his mind came back to +Jess, and he reflected what a charming companion she was, and how thoughtful +and kind, and breathed a secret hope that she would continue to live with them +after they were married. Unconsciously they had arrived at that point of +intimacy, innocent in itself, when two people become absolutely necessary to +each other’s daily life. Indeed, Jess had travelled a long way farther, +but of this John was of course ignorant. He was still at the former stage, and +was not himself aware how large a proportion of his daily thoughts were +occupied by this dark-eyed girl or how completely her personality overshadowed +him. He only knew that she had the knack of making him feel thoroughly happy in +her company. When he was talking to her, or even sitting silently by her, he +became aware of a sensation of restfulness and reliance that he had never +before experienced in the society of a woman. Of course to a large extent this +was the natural homage of the weaker nature to the stronger, but it was also +something more. It was a shadow of the utter sympathy and complete accord that +is the surest sign of the presence of the highest forms of affection, which, +when it accompanies the passion of men and women, as it sometimes though rarely +does, being more often to be found in perfection in those relations from which +the element of sexuality is excluded, raises it almost above the level of the +earth. For the love where that sympathy exists, whether it is between mother +and son, husband and wife, or those who, whilst desiring it, have no hope of +that relationship, is an undying love, and will endure till the night of Time +has swallowed all things. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, as John reflected, the force to which he was attached was moving +into action, and soon he found it necessary to come down to the unpleasantly +practical details of Boer warfare. More particularly did this come home to his +mind when, shortly afterwards, the man next to him was shot dead, and a little +later he himself was slightly wounded by a bullet which passed between the +saddle and his thigh. Into the details of the fight that ensued it is not +necessary to enter here. They were, if anything, more discreditable than most +of the episodes of that unhappy war in which the holding of Potchefstroom, +Lydenburg, Rustenburg, and Wakkerstroom are the only bright spots. Suffice it +to say that they ended in something very like an utter rout of the English at +the hands of a much inferior force, and that, a few hours after he had started, +the ambulance being left in the hands of the Boers, John found himself on the +return road to Pretoria, with a severely wounded man behind his saddle, who, as +they went painfully along, mingled curses of shame and fury with his own. +Meanwhile exaggerated accounts of the English defeat had reached the town, and, +amongst other things, it was said that Captain Niel had been shot dead. One man +who came in stated that he saw him fall, and that he was shot through the head. +This Mrs. Neville heard with her own ears, and, greatly shocked, started to +communicate the intelligence to Jess. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as it was daylight, as was customary with her, Jess had gone over to +the little house which she and John occupied, “The Palatial,” as it +was called ironically, and settled herself there for the day. First she tried +to work and could not, so she took a book that she had brought with her and +began to read, but it was a failure also. Her eyes would wander from the page +and her ears strain to catch the distant booming of the big guns that came from +time to time floating across the hills. The fact of the matter was that the +poor girl was the victim of a presentiment that something was going to happen +to John. Most people of imaginative mind have suffered from this kind of thing +at one time or other in their lives, and have lived to see the folly of it; and +there was more in the circumstances of the present case to excuse indulgence in +the luxury of presentiments than as usual. Indeed, as it happened, she was not +far out—only a sixteenth of an inch or so—for John was very +<i>nearly</i> killed. +</p> + +<p> +Not finding Jess in camp, Mrs. Neville made her way across to “The +Palatial,” where she knew the girl sat, crying as she went, at the +thought of the news that she had to communicate, for the good soul had grown +very fond of John Niel. Jess, with that acute sense of hearing which often +accompanies nervous excitement, caught the sound of the little gate at the +bottom of the garden almost before her visitor had passed through it, and ran +round the corner of the house to see who was there. +</p> + +<p> +One glance at Mrs. Neville’s tear-stained face was enough for her. She +knew what was coming, and clasped at one of the young blue gum trees that grew +along the path to prevent herself from falling. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” she said faintly. “Is he dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my dear, yes; shot through the head, they say.” +</p> + +<p> +Jess made no answer, but clung to the sapling, feeling as though she were going +to die herself, and faintly hoping that she might do so. Her eyes wandered +vaguely from the face of the messenger of evil, first up to the sky, then down +to the cropped and trodden veldt. Past the gate of “The Palatial” +garden ran a road, which, as it happened, was a short cut from the scene of the +fight, and down this road came four Kafirs and half-castes, bearing something +on a stretcher, behind which rode three or four carbineers. A coat was thrown +over the face of the form on the stretcher, but its legs were visible. They +were booted and spurred, and the feet fell apart in that peculiarly lax and +helpless way of which there is no possibility of mistaking the meaning. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Look!</i>” she said, pointing. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, poor man, poor man!” said Mrs. Neville, “they are +bringing him here to lay him out.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Jess’s beautiful eyes closed, and down she went with the bending +tree. Presently the sapling snapped, and she fell senseless with a little cry, +and as she fell the men with the corpse passed on. +</p> + +<p> +Two minutes afterwards, John Niel, having heard the rumour of his own death on +arrival at the camp, and greatly fearing lest it should have reached +Jess’s ears, cantered up hurriedly, and, dismounting as well as his wound +would allow, limped up the garden path. +</p> + +<p> +“Great heavens, Captain Niel!” exclaimed Mrs. Neville, looking up; +“why—we thought that you were dead!” +</p> + +<p> +“And that is what you have been telling her, I suppose,” he said +sternly, glancing at the pale and deathlike face; “you might have waited +till you were sure. Poor girl! it must have given her a turn!” and, +stooping down, he placed his arms under Jess, and, lifting her with some +difficulty, staggered to the house, where he laid her down upon the table and, +assisted by Mrs. Neville, began to do all in his power to revive her. So +obstinate was her faint, however, that their efforts were unavailing, and at +last Mrs. Neville started for the camp to get some brandy, leaving him to go on +rubbing her hands and sprinkling water on her face. +</p> + +<p> +The good lady had not been gone more than two or three minutes when Jess +suddenly opened her eyes and sat up, slipping her feet to the ground. Her eyes +fell upon John and dilated with wonder; he thought that she was about to faint +again, for even her lips blanched, and she began to shake and tremble all over +in the extremity of her agitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Jess, Jess,” he said, “for God’s sake don’t look +like that, you frighten me!” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you were—I thought you were——” she +said slowly, then suddenly burst into a passion of tears and fell forward upon +his breast and lay there sobbing her heart out, her brown curls resting against +his face. +</p> + +<p> +It was an awkward and a most moving position. John was only a man, and the +spectacle of this strange woman, to whom he had lately grown so much attached, +plunged into intense emotion, awakened, apparently, by anxiety about his fate, +stirred him very deeply—as it would have stirred anybody. Indeed, it +struck some chord in him for which he could not quite account, and its echoes +charmed and yet frightened him. What did it mean? +</p> + +<p> +“Jess, dear Jess, pray stop; I can’t bear to see you cry so,” +he said at last. +</p> + +<p> +She lifted her head from his shoulder and stood looking at him, her hand +resting on the edge of the table behind her. Her face was wet with tears and +looked like a dew-washed lily, and her beautiful eyes were alight with a flame +that he had never seen in the eyes of woman before. She said nothing, but her +whole face was more eloquent than any words, for there are times when the +features can convey a message in that language of their own which is more +suitable than any tongue we talk. There she stood, her breast heaving with +emotion as the sea heaves when the fierceness of the storm has passed—a +very incarnation of the intensest love of woman. And as she stood something +seemed to pass before her eyes and blind her; a spirit took possession of her +that absorbed all her doubts and fears, and she gave way to a force that was of +her and yet compelled her, as, when the wind blows, the sails compel a ship. +Then, for the first time, where her love was concerned, she put out all her +strength. She knew, and had always known, that she could master him, and force +him to regard her as she regarded him, did she but choose. How she knew it she +could not say, but it was so. Now she yielded to an unconquerable impulse and +chose. She said nothing, she did not even move, she only looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Why were you in such a fright about me?” he stammered. +</p> + +<p> +She did not answer, but kept her eyes upon his face, and it seemed to John as +though power flowed from them; for, while she looked, he felt the change come. +Everything melted away before the almost spiritual intensity of her gaze. +Bessie, honour, his engagement—all were forgotten; the smouldering embers +broke into flame, and he knew that he loved this woman as he had never loved +any living creature before—that he loved her even as she loved him. +Strong man as he was, he shook like a leaf before her. +</p> + +<p> +“Jess,” he said hoarsely, “God forgive me! I love you!” +and he bent forward to kiss her. +</p> + +<p> +She lifted her face towards him, then suddenly changed her mind, and laid her +hand upon his breast. +</p> + +<p> +“You forget,” she said almost solemnly, “you are going to +marry Bessie.” +</p> + +<p> +Crushed by a deep sense of shame, and by a knowledge of the calamity that had +overtaken him, John turned and limped from the house. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap18"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<br/> +AND AFTER</h2> + +<p> +In front of the door of “The Palatial” was a garden-bed filled with +weeds and flowers mixed up together like the good and evil in the heart of a +man, and to the right-hand side of this bed stood an old and backless wooden +chair. No sooner had John limped outside the door of the cottage than he became +sensible that, what between one thing and another—weariness, loss of +blood from his wound, and intense mental emotion—if he did not sit down +somewhere quickly, he should follow the example set by Jess and faint away. +Accordingly he steered for the old chair and sank into it with gratitude. +Presently he saw Mrs. Neville running up the path with a bottle of brandy in +her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” he thought to himself, “that will just come in handy +for me. If I don’t have a glass of brandy soon I shall roll off this +infernal chair—I am sure of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Jess?” panted Mrs. Neville. +</p> + +<p> +“In there,” he said; “she has recovered. It would have been +better for us both if she hadn’t,” he added to himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, bless me, Captain Niel, how queer you look!” said Mrs. +Neville, fanning herself with her hat; “and there is such a row going on +at the camp there; the volunteers swear that they will attack the military for +deserting them, and I don’t know what all; and they simply wouldn’t +believe me when I said you were not shot. Why, I never! Look! your boot is full +of blood! So you were hit after all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Might I trouble you to give me some brandy, Mrs. Neville?” said +John faintly. +</p> + +<p> +She filled a glass she had brought with her half full of water from a little +irrigation furrow that ran down from the main <i>sluit</i> by the road, and +then topped it up with brandy. He drank it, and felt decidedly better. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me!” said Mrs. Neville, “there are a pair of you now. +You should just have seen that girl go down when she saw the body coming along +the road! I made sure that it was you; but it wasn’t. They say that it +was poor Jim Smith, son of old Smith of Rustenburg. I tell you what it is, +Captain Niel, you had better be careful; if that girl isn’t in love with +you she is something very like it. A girl does not pop over like that for Dick, +Tom, or Harry. You must forgive an old woman like me for speaking out plain, +but she is an odd girl is Jess, just like ten women rolled into one so far as +her mind goes, and if you don’t take care you will get into trouble, +which will be rather awkward, as you are going to marry her sister. Jess +isn’t the one to have a bit of a flirt to pass away the time and have +done with it, I can tell you;” and she shook her head solemnly, as though +she suspected him of trifling with his future sister-in-law’s young +affections, then, without waiting for an answer, she turned and went into the +cottage. +</p> + +<p> +As for John, he only groaned. What could he do but groan? The thing was +self-evident, and if ever a man felt ashamed of himself that man was John Niel. +He was a strictly honourable individual, and it cut him to the heart to think +that he had entered on a course which, considering his engagement to Bessie, +was not honourable. When a few minutes before he had told Jess he loved her he +had said a disgraceful thing, however true it might be. And that was the worst +of it; it was true; he did love her. He felt the change come sweeping over him +like a wave as she stood looking at him in the room, utterly drowning and +overpowering his affection for Bessie, to whom he was bound by every tie of +honour. It was a new and a wonderful experience this passion that had arisen +within him, as a strong man armed, driving every other affection away into the +waste places of his mind; and, unfortunately, as he already guessed, it was +overmastering and enduring. He cursed himself in his shame and anger as he sat +recovering his equilibrium on the broken chair and tying a handkerchief tightly +round his wounded leg. What a fool he had been! Why had he not waited to see +which of the two he really loved? Why had Jess gone away like that and thrown +him into temptation with her pretty sister? He was sure now that she had cared +for him all along. Well, there it was, and a bad business too! One thing he was +clear about; it should go no farther. He would not break his engagement to +Bessie; it was not to be thought of. But, all the same, he felt sorry for +himself, and sorry for Jess too. +</p> + +<p> +Just then, however, the bandage on his leg slipped, and the wound began to +bleed so fast that he was fain to hobble into the house for assistance. +</p> + +<p> +Jess, who had apparently quite recovered from her agitation, was standing by +the table talking to Mrs. Neville, who was persuading her to swallow some of +the brandy she had been at such pains to fetch. The moment she caught sight of +John’s face, which had now turned ghastly white, and saw the red line +trickling down his boot, she took up her hat that was lying on the table. +</p> + +<p> +“You had better lie down on the old bedstead in the little room,” +she said; “I am going for the doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +Assisted by Mrs. Neville he was only too glad to take this advice, but long +before the doctor arrived John had followed Jess’s example, and gone off +into a dead faint, to the intense alarm of Mrs. Neville, who was vainly +endeavouring to check the flow of blood, which had now become copious. On the +arrival of the doctor it appeared that the bullet had grazed the walls of one +of the arteries on the inside of his thigh without actually cutting them, which +had now given way, rendering it necessary to tie the artery. This operation, +with the assistance of chloroform, he proceeded to carry out successfully, +announcing afterwards that a great deal of blood had already been lost. +</p> + +<p> +When at last it was over Mrs. Neville asked about John being moved up to the +hospital, but the doctor declared that he must lie where he was, and that Jess +must stop and help to nurse him, with the assistance of a soldier’s wife +whom he would send to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me,” said Mrs. Neville, “that is very awkward.” +</p> + +<p> +“It will be more awkward if you try to move him at present,” was +the grim reply, “for the silk may slip, in which case the artery will +probably break out again, and he will bleed to death.” +</p> + +<p> +As for Jess, she said nothing, but set to work to make preparations for her +task of nursing. As Fate had once more thrown them together she accepted the +position gladly, though it is fair to say that she would not have sought it. +</p> + +<p> +In about an hour’s time, just as John was beginning to recover from the +painful effects of the chloroform, the soldier’s wife who was to assist +her in nursing arrived. As Jess soon discovered, she was not only a low stamp +of woman, but both careless and ignorant into the bargain, and all that she +could be relied on to do was to carry out some of the rougher work of the +sick-room. When John woke up and learned whose was the presence that was +bending over him, and whose the cool hand that lay upon his forehead, he +groaned again and went to sleep. But Jess did not go to sleep. She sat by him +there throughout the night, till at last the cold lights of the dawn came +gleaming through the window and fell upon the white face of the man she loved. +He was still sleeping soundly, and, as the night was exceedingly hot and +oppressive, she had left nothing but a sheet over him. Before she went to rest +a little herself she turned to look at him once more, and as she looked she saw +the sheet grow suddenly red with blood. The artery had broken out fresh. +</p> + +<p> +Calling to the soldier’s wife to run across to the doctor, Jess shook her +patient till he awoke, for he was sleeping quite soundly, and would, no doubt, +have continued to do so till he glided away into a still deeper sleep; and then +between them they did what they could to quench that dreadful pumping flow, +Jess knotting her handkerchief round his leg and twisting it with a stick, +while he pressed his thumb upon the severed artery. But, strive as they would, +they were only partially successful, and Jess began to think that he would die +in her arms from loss of blood. It was agonising to wait there minute after +minute and see his life ebbing away. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I shall last much longer, Jess. God bless you, +dear!” he said. “The place is beginning to go round and +round.” +</p> + +<p> +Poor soul! she could only set her teeth and wait for the end. +</p> + +<p> +Presently John’s pressure on the wounded artery relaxed, and he fainted +off, and, oddly enough, just then the flow of blood diminished considerably. +Another five minutes, and she heard the quick step of the doctor coming up the +path. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God you have come! He has bled dreadfully.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was out attending a poor fellow who was shot through the lung, and +that fool of a woman waited for me to come back instead of following me. I have +brought you an orderly in place of her. By Jove, he has bled! I suppose the +silk has slipped. Well, there is only one thing for it. Orderly, the +chloroform.” +</p> + +<p> +Then followed another long half-hour of slashing and tying and horror, and when +at last the unfortunate John opened his eyes again he was too weak to speak, +and could only smile feebly. For three days after this he lay in a dangerous +state, for if the artery had broken out for the third time the chances were +that, having so little blood left in his veins, he would die before anything +could be done for him. At times he was very delirious from weakness, and these +were the critical hours, for it was almost impossible to keep him still, and +every moment threw Jess into an agony of terror lest the silk fastenings of the +artery should break away. Indeed there was only one fashion in which she could +quiet him, and that was by placing her slim white hand upon his forehead or +giving it to him to hold. Oddly enough, this had more effect upon his fevered +mind than anything else. For hour after hour she would sit thus, though her arm +ached, and her back felt as if it were about to break in two, till at last she +was rewarded by seeing his wild eyes cease their wanderings and close in +peaceful sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Yet with it all that week was perhaps the happiest time in her life. There he +lay: the man she loved with all the intensity of her deep nature, and she +ministered to him, and felt that he loved her, and depended on her as a babe +upon its mother. Even in his delirium her name was continually on his lips, and +generally with some endearing term before it. She felt in those dark hours of +doubt and sickness as though they two were growing life to life, knit up in a +divine identity she could not analyse or understand. She felt that it was so, +and she believed that, once being so, whatever her future might be, that +communion could never be dissolved, and therefore was she happy, though she +knew that his recovery meant their lifelong separation. For though Jess, when +thrown utterly off her balance, had once given her passion way, it was not a +thing she meant to repeat. She had, she knew, injured Bessie enough already in +taking her future husband’s heart. That she could not help now, but she +would take no more. John should go back to her sister. +</p> + +<p> +And so she sat and gazed at that sleeping man through the long watches of the +night, and was happy. There lay her joy. Soon they must part and she would be +left desolate; but whilst he lay there he was hers. It was passing sweet to her +woman’s nature to place her hand upon him and see him sleep, for this +desire to watch the sleep of a beloved object is one of the highest and +strangest manifestations of passion. Truly, and with a keen insight into the +human heart, has the poet said that there is no joy like the joy of a woman +watching what she loves asleep. As Jess sat and gazed those beautiful and +tender lines came floating to her mind, and she thought how true they were: +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +For there it lies, so tranquil, so beloved,<br/> +All that it hath of life with us is living;<br/> +So gentle, stirless, helpless, and unmoved,<br/> +And all unconscious of the joy ‘tis giving;<br/> +All it hath felt, inflicted, passed and proved,<br/> +Hushed into depths beyond the watcher’s diving;<br/> +There lies the thing we love with all its errors<br/> +And all its charms, like death without its terrors. +</p> + +<p> +Ay! there lay the thing she loved. +</p> + +<p> +The time went on, and the artery broke out no more. Then at last came a morning +when John opened his eyes and watched the pale earnest face bending over him as +though he were trying to remember something. Presently he shut them again. He +had remembered. +</p> + +<p> +“I have been very ill, Jess,” he said after a pause. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, John.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you have nursed me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, John.” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I going to recover?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course you are.” +</p> + +<p> +He closed his eyes again. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose there is no news from outside?” +</p> + +<p> +“No more; things are just the same.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor from Bessie?” +</p> + +<p> +“None: we are quite cut off.” +</p> + +<p> +Then came a pause. +</p> + +<p> +“John,” said Jess, “I want to say something to you. When +people are delirious, or when delirium is coming on, they sometimes say things +that they are not responsible for, and which had better be forgotten.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he said, “I understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“So,” she went on, in the same measured tone, “we will forget +everything you may fancy that you said, or that I did, since the time when you +came in wounded and found that I had fainted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so,” said John. “I renounce them all.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>We</i> renounce them all,” she corrected, and gave a solemn +little nod of her head and sighed, and thus they ratified that audacious +compact of oblivion. +</p> + +<p> +But it was a lie, and they both knew that it was a lie. If love had existed +before, was there anything in his helplessness and her long and tender care to +make it less? Alas! no; rather was their companionship the more perfect and +their sympathy the more complete. “Propinquity, sir, propinquity,” +as the wise man said;—we all know the evils of it. +</p> + +<p> +It was a lie, and a very common and everyday sort of lie. Who, being behind the +scenes, has not laughed in his sleeve to see it acted?—Who has not +admired and wondered at the cold and formal bow and shake of the hand, the +tender inquiries after the health of the maiden aunt and the baby, the +carelessly expressed wish that we may meet somewhere—all so palpably +overdone? <i>That</i> the heroine of the impassioned scene at which we had +unfortunately to assist an hour ago! Where are the tears, the convulsive sobs, +the heartbroken grief? And <i>that</i> the young gentleman who saw nothing for +it but flight or a pistol bullet! There, all the world’s a stage, and +fortunately most of us can act at a pinch. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, we can act; we can paint the face and powder the hair, and summon up the +set smile and the regulation joke and make pretense that things are as things +were, when they are as different as the North Pole from the Torrid Zone. But +unfortunately, or fortunately—I do not know which—we cannot bedeck +our inner selves and make them mime as the occasion pleases, and sing the old +song when their lips are set to a strange new chant. Of a surety there is +within us a spark of the Eternal Truth, for in our own hearts we cannot lie. +And so it was with these two. From that day forward they forgot that scene in +the sitting-room of “The Palatial,” when Jess put out her strength +and John bent and broke before it like a reed before the wind. Surely it was a +part of the delirium! They forgot that now, alas! they loved each other with a +love which did but gather force from its despair. They talked of Bessie, and of +John’s marriage, and discussed Jess’s plans to go to Europe, just +as though these were not matters of spiritual life and death to each of them. +In short, however for one brief moment they might have gone astray, now, to +their honour be it said, they followed the path of duty with unflinching feet, +nor did they complain when the stones cut them. +</p> + +<p> +But it was a living lie, and they knew it. For behind them stood the +irrevocable Past, who for good or evil had bound them together in his +unchanging bonds, and with cords that never can be broken. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap19"></a>CHAPTER XIX.<br/> +HANS COETZEE COMES TO PRETORIA</h2> + +<p> +Once he had turned the corner, John’s recovery was rapid. Naturally of a +vigorous constitution, when the artery had reunited, he soon made up for the +great loss of blood which he had undergone, and in a little more than a month +from the date of his wound physically, was almost as good a man as ever. +</p> + +<p> +One morning—it was the 20th of March—Jess and he were sitting in +“The Palatial” garden. John was lying in a lone cane deck chair +that Jess had borrowed or stolen out of one of the deserted houses, and smoking +a pipe. By his side, in a hole in the flat arm of the chair, fashioned +originally to receive a soda-water tumbler, was a great bunch of purple grapes +which she had gathered for him; and on his knees lay a copy of that +journalistic curiosity, the “News of the Camp,” which was chiefly +remarkable for its utter dearth of news. It was not easy to run a journal in a +beleaguered town. +</p> + +<p> +They sat in silence: John puffing away at his pipe, and Jess, her +work—one of his socks—lying idly upon her knees, her hands clasped +over it, and her eyes fixed upon the lights and shadows that played with broad +fingers upon the wooded slopes beyond. +</p> + +<p> +So silently did they sit that a great green lizard came and basked himself in +the sun within a yard of them, and a beautiful striped butterfly perched +deliberately upon the purple grapes! It was a delightful day and a delightful +spot. They were too far from the camp to be disturbed by its rude noise, and +the only sounds that reached their ears were the rippling of running water and +the whispers of the wind, odorous with the breath of mimosa blooms, as it +stirred the stiff grey leaves on the blue gums. +</p> + +<p> +They were seated in the shade of the little house that Jess had learned to love +as she had never loved a spot before, but around them lay the flood of sunshine +shimmering like golden water; and beyond the red line of the fence at the end +of the garden, where the rich pomegranate bloom tried to blush the roses down, +the hot air danced merrily above the rough stone wall like a million +microscopic elves at play. Peace! everywhere was peace! and in it the full +heart of Nature beat out in radiant life. Peace in the voice of the +turtle-doves among the willows! peace in the play of the sunshine and the +murmur of the wind! peace in the growing flowers and hovering butterfly! Jess +looked out at the wealth and glory which were spread before her, and thought +that it was like heaven; then, giving way to the melancholy strain in her +nature, she began to wonder idly how many human beings had sat and thought the +same things, and had been gathered up into the azure of the past and forgotten; +and how many would sit and think there when she in her turn had been utterly +swept away into that gulf whence no echo ever comes! But what did it matter? +The sunshine would still flood the earth with gold, the water would ripple, and +the butterflies hover; and there would be other women to sit and fold their +hands and consider them, thinking the same identical thoughts, beyond which our +human intelligence cannot travel. And so on for thousands upon thousands of +centuries, till at last the old world reaches its journey’s appointed +end, and, passing from the starry spaces, is swallowed up with those it bore. +</p> + +<p> +And she—where would she be? Would she still live on, and love and suffer +elsewhere, or was it all a cruel myth? Was she merely a creature bred of the +teeming earth, or had she an individuality beyond the earth? What awaited her +after sunset?—Sleep. She had often hoped that it was sleep, and nothing +but sleep. But now she did not hope that. Her life had centred itself around a +new interest, and one that she felt could never die while that life lasted. She +hoped for a future now; for if there was a future for her, there would be one +for <i>him</i>, and then her day would come, and where he was there she would +be also. Oh, sweet mockery, old and unsubstantial thought, bright dream set +halowise about the dull head of life! Who has not dreamt it, but who can +believe in it? And yet, who shall say that it is not true? Though philosophers +and scientists smile and point in derision to the gross facts and freaks that +mark our passions, is it not possible that there may be a place where the love +shall live when the lust has died; and where Jess will find that she has not +sat in vain in the sunshine, throwing out her pure heart towards the light of a +happiness and a visioned glory whereof, for some few minutes, the shadow seemed +to lie within her? +</p> + +<p> +John had finished his pipe, and, although she did not know it, was watching her +face, which, now when she was off her guard, was no longer impassive, but +seemed to mirror the tender and glorious hope that was floating through her +mind. Her lips were slightly parted, and her wide eyes were full of a soft +strange light, while on the whole countenance was stamped a look of eager +thought and spiritualised desire such as he had known portrayed in ancient +masterpieces upon the face of the Virgin Mother. Except as regards her eyes and +hair, Jess was not even a good-looking person. But, at that moment, John +thought that her face was touched with a diviner beauty than he had yet seen on +the face of woman. It thrilled him and appealed to him, not as Bessie’s +beauty had appealed, but to that other side of his nature, of which Jess alone +could turn the key. It was more like the face of a spirit than that of a human +being, and it almost frightened him to see it. +</p> + +<p> +“Jess,” he said at last, “what are you thinking of?” +</p> + +<p> +She started, and her face resumed its normal expression. It was as though a +mask had been suddenly set upon it. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you ask?” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I want to know. I never saw you look like that before.” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed a little. +</p> + +<p> +“You would call me foolish if I told you what I was thinking about. Never +mind, it has gone wherever thoughts go. I will tell you what I am thinking +about now, which is—that it is about time we got out of this place. My +uncle and Bessie must be half distracted.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve had more than two months of it now. The relieving column +can’t be far off,” suggested John; for these foolish people in +Pretoria laboured under a firm belief that one fine morning they would be +gratified with a vision of the light dancing down a long line of British +bayonets, and of Boers evaporating in every direction like storm clouds before +the sun. +</p> + +<p> +Jess shook her head. She was beginning to lose faith in relieving columns that +never came. +</p> + +<p> +“If we don’t help ourselves, my opinion is that we may stop here +till we are starved out, which in fact we are. However, it’s no use +talking about it, so I’m off to fetch our rations. Let’s see, have +you everything you want?” +</p> + +<p> +“Everything, thanks.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, mind you stop quiet till I come back.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” laughed John, “I am as strong as a horse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Possibly; but that is what the doctor said, you know. Good-bye!” +and Jess took her big basket and started on what John used feebly to call her +“rational undertaking.” +</p> + +<p> +She had not gone fifty paces from the door before she suddenly caught sight of +a familiar form seated on a familiar pony. The form was fat and jovial-looking, +and the pony was small but also fat. It was Hans Coetzee—none other! +</p> + +<p> +Jess could hardly believe her eyes. Old Hans in Pretoria! What could it mean? +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Oom</i> Coetzee! <i>Oom</i> Coetzee!” she called, as he came +ambling past her, evidently heading for the Heidelberg road. +</p> + +<p> +The old Boer pulled up his pony, and gazed around him in a mystified fashion. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, <i>Oom</i> Coetzee! Here!” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Allemachter!</i>” he said, jerking his pony round. +“It’s you, Missie Jess, is it? Now who would have thought of seeing +you here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who would have thought of seeing <i>you</i> here?” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes; it seems strange; I dare say that it seems strange. But I am a +messenger of peace, like Uncle Noah’s dove in the ark, you know. The fact +is,” and he glanced round to see if anybody was listening, “I have +been sent by the Government to arrange about an exchange of prisoners.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Government! What Government?” +</p> + +<p> +“What Government? Why, the Triumvirate, of course—whom may the Lord +bless and prosper, as He did Jonah when he walked on the wall of the +city.” +</p> + +<p> +“Joshua, when he walked round the wall of the city,” suggested +Jess. “Jonah walked down the whale’s throat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! to be sure, so he did, and blew a trumpet inside. I remember now; +though I am sure I don’t know how he did it. The fact is that our +glorious victories have quite confused me. Ah! what a thing it is to be a +patriot! The dear Lord makes strong the arm of the patriot, and takes care that +he hits his man well in the middle.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have turned wonderfully patriotic all of a sudden, <i>Oom</i> +Coetzee,” said Jess tartly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, missie, yes; I am a patriot to the bone of my back! I hate the +English Government; damn the English Government! Let us have our land back and +our <i>Volksraad</i>. Almighty! I saw who was in the right at Laing’s Nek +there. Ah, those poor <i>rooibaatjes!</i> I killed four of them myself; two as +they came up, and two as they ran away, and the last one went head-over-heels +like a buck. Poor man! I cried for him afterwards. I did not like going to +fight at all, but Frank Muller sent to me and said that if I did not go he +would have me shot. Ah, he is a devil of a man, that Frank Muller! So I went, +and when I saw how the dear Lord had put it into the heart of the English +general to be a bigger fool even that day than he is every day, and to try and +drive us out of Laing’s Nek with a thousand of his poor +<i>rooibaatjes</i>, then, I tell you, I saw where the right lay, and I said, +‘Damn the English Government! What is the English Government doing +here?’ and after Ingogo I said it again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind all that, <i>Oom</i> Coetzee,” broke in Jess. “I +have heard you tell a different tale before, and perhaps you will again. How +are my uncle and my sister? Are they at the farm?” +</p> + +<p> +“Almighty! you don’t suppose that I have been there to see, do you? +But, yes, I have heard they are there. It is a nice place, that Mooifontein, +and I think that I shall buy it when we have turned all you English people out +of the land. Frank Muller told me that they were there. And now I must be +getting on, or that devil of a man, Frank Muller, will want to know what I have +been about.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Oom</i> Coetzee,” said Jess, “will you do something for +me? We are old friends, you know, and once I persuaded my uncle to lend you +five hundred pounds when all your oxen died of the lungsick.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, it shall be paid back one day—when we have hunted the +damned Englishmen out of the country.” And he began to gather up his +reins preparatory to riding off. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you do me a favour?” said Jess, catching the pony by the +bridle. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it? What is it, missie? I must be getting on. That devil of a +man, Frank Muller, is waiting for me with the prisoners at the Rooihuis +Kraal.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want a pass for myself and Captain Niel, and an escort. We wish to go +home.” +</p> + +<p> +The old Boer held up his fat hands in amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“Almighty!” he said, “it is impossible. A pass!—who +ever heard of such a thing? Come, I must be going.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not impossible, Uncle Coetzee, as you know,” said Jess. +“Listen! If I get that pass I will speak to my uncle about the five +hundred pounds. Perhaps he would not want it all back again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said the Boer. “Well, we are old friends, missie, and +‘never desert a friend,’ that is my saying. Almighty! I must ride a +hundred miles—I will swim through blood for a friend. Well, well, I must +see. It depends upon that devil of a man, Frank Muller. Where are you to be +found—in the white house yonder? Good. To-morrow the escort will come in +with the prisoners, and if I can get it they will bring the pass. But, missie, +remember the five hundred pounds. If you do not speak to your uncle about that +I shall be even with him. Almighty! what a thing it is to have a good heart, +and to love to help your friends! Well, good-day, good-day,” and off he +cantered on his fat pony, his broad face shining with a look of unutterable +benevolence. +</p> + +<p> +Jess cast a look of contempt after him, and then went on towards the camp to +fetch the rations. +</p> + +<p> +When she returned to “The Palatial,” she told John what had taken +place, and suggested that it would be as well, in case there should be a +favourable reply to her request, to have everything prepared for a start. +Accordingly, the cart was brought down and stood outside “The +Palatial,” where John unscrewed the patent caps and filled them with +castor-oil, and ordered Mouti to keep the horses, which were all in health, +though “poor” from want of proper food, well within hail. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, old Hans pursued the jerky tenour of his way for an hour or so, till +he came in sight of a small red house. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, from the shadow in front of the red house emerged a rider, mounted +on a powerful black horse. The horseman—a stern, handsome, bearded +man—put his hand above his eyes to shade them from the sun, and gazed up +the road. Then he seemed suddenly to strike his spurs into the horse, for the +animal bounded forward swiftly, and came sweeping towards Hans at a hand +gallop. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! it is that devil of a man, Frank Muller!” ejaculated Coetzee. +“Now I wonder what he wants? I always feel cold down the back when he +comes near me.” +</p> + +<p> +By this time the plunging black horse was being reined up alongside of his pony +so sharply that it reared till its great hoofs were pawing the air within a few +inches of Hans’ head. +</p> + +<p> +“Almighty!” said the old man, tugging his pony round. “Be +careful, nephew, be careful; I do not wish to be crushed like a beetle.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank Muller—for it was he—smiled. He had made his horse rear +purposely, in order to frighten the old man, whom he knew to be an arrant +coward. +</p> + +<p> +“Why have you been so long? and what have you done with the Englishmen? +You should have been back half an hour ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“And so I should, nephew, and so I should, if I had not been detained. +Surely you do not suppose that I would linger in the accursed place? +Bah,” and he spat upon the ground, “it stinks of Englishmen. I +cannot get the taste of them out of my mouth.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a liar, Uncle Coetzee,” was the cool answer. +“English with the English, Boer with the Boer. You blow neither hot nor +cold. Be careful lest I show you up. I know you and your talk. Do you remember +what you were saying to the Englishman Niel in the inn-yard at Wakkerstroom +when you turned and saw me? I heard, and I do not forget. You know what happens +to a ‘land betrayer’?” +</p> + +<p> +Hans’ teeth positively chattered, and his florid face blanched with fear. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, nephew?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I—ah!—I mean nothing. I was only speaking a word of warning +to you as a friend. I have heard things said about you by——” +and he dropped his voice and whispered a name, at the sound of which poor Hans +turned whiter than ever. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” went on his tormentor, when he had sufficiently enjoyed his +terror, “what sort of terms did you make in Pretoria?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, good, nephew, good,” he gabbled, delighted to find a fresh +subject. “I found the Englishmen supple as a tanned skin. They will give +up their twelve prisoners for our four. The men are to be in by ten to-morrow. +I told their commandant about Laing’s Nek and Ingogo, and he would not +believe me. He thought I lied like himself. They are getting hungry there now. +I saw a Hottentot I knew, and he told me that their bones were beginning to +show.” +</p> + +<p> +“They will be through the skin before long,” muttered Frank. +“Well, here we are at the house. The General is there. He has just come +up from Heidelberg, and you can make your report to him. Did you find out about +the Englishman—Captain Niel? Is it true that he is dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, he is not dead. By the way, I met <i>Oom</i> Croft’s +niece—the dark one. She is shut up there with the Captain, and she begged +me to try and get them a pass to go home. Of course I told her that it was +nonsense, and that they must stop and starve with the others.” +</p> + +<p> +Muller, who had been listening to this last piece of information with intense +interest, suddenly checked his horse and answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Did you? Then you are a bigger fool than I thought you. Who gave you +authority to decide whether they should have a pass or not?” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap20"></a>CHAPTER XX.<br/> +THE GREAT MAN</h2> + +<p> +Completely overcome by this last remark, Hans collapsed like a jelly-fish out +of water, and reflected in his worthless old heart that Frank Muller was indeed +“a devil of a man.” By this time they had reached the door of the +little house, and were dismounting, and in another minute Hans found himself in +the presence of one of the leaders of the rebellion. +</p> + +<p> +He was a short, ugly person of about fifty-five, with a big nose, small eyes, +straight hair, and a stoop. The forehead, however, was good, and the whole face +betrayed a keenness and ability far beyond the average. The great man was +seated at a plain deal table, writing something with evident difficulty upon a +dirty sheet of paper, and smoking a very large pipe. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit, <i>Heeren</i>, sit,” he said, when they entered, waving the +stem of his pipe towards a deal bench. Accordingly they sat down without even +removing their hats, and, pulling out their pipes, proceeded to light them. +</p> + +<p> +“How, in the name of God, do you spell ‘Excellency’?” +asked the General presently. “I have spelt it in four different ways, and +each one looks worse than the last.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank Muller gave the required information. Hans in his heart thought he spelt +it wrong, but he did not dare to say so. Then came another pause, only +interrupted by the slow scratching of a quill across the dirty paper, during +which Hans nearly went to sleep; for the weather was very hot, and he was tired +with his ride. +</p> + +<p> +“There!” said the writer presently, gazing at his handwriting with +an almost childish air of satisfaction, “that is done. A curse on the man +who invented writing! Our fathers did very well without it; why should not we? +Though, to be sure, it is useful for treaties with the Kafirs. I don’t +believe you have told me right now about that ‘Excellency,’ nephew. +Well, it will have to serve. When a man writes such a letter as that to the +representative of the English Queen he needn’t mind his spelling; it will +be swallowed with the rest,” and he leaned back in his chair and laughed +softly. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, <i>Meinheer</i> Coetzee, what is it? Ah, I know; the prisoners. +Well, what did you do?” +</p> + +<p> +Hans told his story, and was rambling on when the General cut him short. +</p> + +<p> +“So, cousin, so! You talk like an ox-waggon—rumble and creak and +jolt, a devil of a noise and turning of wheels, but very little progress. They +will give up their twelve prisoners for our four, will they? That is about a +fair proportion. No, it is not, though: four Boers are better than twelve +Englishmen any day—ay, better than forty!” and he laughed again. +“Well, the men shall be sent in as you arranged; they will help to eat up +their last biscuits. Good-day, cousin. Stop, though; one word before you go. I +have heard about you at times, cousin. I have heard it said that you cannot be +trusted. Now, I don’t know if that is so. I don’t believe it +myself. Only, listen; if it should be true, and I should find you out, by God! +I will have you cut into rimpis with afterox <i>sjambocks</i>, and then shoot +you and send in your carcase as a present to the English.” As he spoke +thus he leaned forward, brought down his fist upon the deal table with a bang +that produced a most unpleasant effect upon poor Hans’s nerves, and a +cold gleam of sudden ferocity flickered in the small eyes, very discomforting +for a timid man to behold, however innocent he knew himself to be. +</p> + +<p> +“I swear——” he began to babble. +</p> + +<p> +“Swear not at all, cousin; you are an elder of the church. There is no +need for it, besides. I told you I did not believe it of you; only I have had +one or two cases of this sort of thing lately. No, never mind who they were. +You will not meet them about again. Good-day, cousin, good-day. Forget not to +thank the Almighty God for our glorious victories. He will expect it from an +elder of the church.” +</p> + +<p> +Poor Hans departed crestfallen, feeling that the days of him who tries, however +skilfully and impartially, to sit upon two stools at once are not happy days, +and sometimes threaten to be short ones. And supposing that the Englishmen +should win after all—as in his heart he hoped they might—how should +he then prove that he had hoped it? The General watched him waddle through the +door from under his pent brows, a half-humourous, half-menacing expression on +his face. +</p> + +<p> +“A windbag; a coward; a man without a heart for good or for evil. Bah! +nephew, that is Hans Coetzee. I have known him for years. Well, let him go. He +would sell us if he could, but I have frightened him now, and, what is more, if +I see reason, he shall find I never bark unless I mean to bite. Well, enough of +him. Let me see, have I thanked you yet for your share in Majuba? Ah! that was +a glorious victory! How many were there of you when you started up the +mountain?” +</p> + +<p> +“Eighty men.” +</p> + +<p> +“And how many at the end?” +</p> + +<p> +“One hundred and seventy—perhaps a few more.” +</p> + +<p> +“And how many of you were hit?” +</p> + +<p> +“Three—one killed, two wounded, and a few scratches.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wonderful, wonderful! It was a brave deed, and because it was so brave +it was successful. He must have been mad, that English general. Who shot +him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Breytenbach. Colley held up a white handkerchief in his hand, and +Breytenbach fired, and down went the general of a heap, and then they all ran +helter-skelter down the hill. Yes, it was a wonderful thing! They could have +beat us back with their left hand. That is what comes of having a righteous +cause, uncle.” +</p> + +<p> +The general smiled grimly. “That is what comes of having men who can +shoot, and who understand the country, and are not afraid. Well, it is done, +and well done. The stars in their courses have fought for us, Frank Muller, and +so far we have conquered. But how is it to end? You are no fool; tell me, how +will it end?” +</p> + +<p> +Frank Muller rose and walked twice up and down the room before he answered. +“Shall I tell you?” he asked, and then, without waiting for a +reply, went on: “It will end in our getting the country back. That is +what this armistice means. There are thousands of <i>rooibaatjes</i> there at +the Nek; they cannot therefore be waiting for soldiers. They are waiting for an +opportunity to yield, uncle. We shall get the country back, and you will be +President of the Republic.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man took a pull at his pipe. “You have a long head, Frank, and it +has not run away with you. The English Government is going to give in. The +stars in their courses continue to fight for us. The English Government is as +mad as its officers. They will give in. But it means more than that, Frank; I +will tell you what it means. It means”—and again he let his heavy +hand fall upon the deal table—“the triumph of the Boer throughout +South Africa. Bah! Burgers was not such a fool after all when he talked of his +great Dutch Republic. I have been twice to England now and I know the +Englishman. I could measure him for his <i>veldtschoens</i> (shoes). He knows +nothing—nothing. He understands his shop; he is buried in his shop, and +can think of nothing else. Sometimes he goes away and starts a shop in other +places, and buries himself in it, and makes it a big shop, because he +understands shops. But it is all a question of shops, and if the shops abroad +interfere with the shops at home, or if it is thought that they do, which comes +to the same thing, then the shops at home put an end to the shops abroad. Bah! +they talk a great deal there in England, but, at the bottom of it, it is shop, +shop, shop. They talk of honour, and patriotism too, but they both give way to +the shop. And I tell you this, Frank Muller: it is the shop that has made the +English, and it is the shop that will destroy them. Well, so be it. We shall +have our slice: Africa for the Africanders. The Transvaal for the Transvaalers +first, then the rest. Shepstone was a clever man; he would have made it all +into an English shop, with the black men for shop-boys. We have changed all +that, but we ought to be grateful to Shepstone. The English have paid our +debts, they have eaten up the Zulus, who would otherwise have destroyed us, and +they have let us beat them, and now we are going to have our turn again, and, +as you say, I shall be the first President.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, uncle,” replied the younger man calmly, “and I shall be +the second.” +</p> + +<p> +The General looked at him. “You are a bold man,” he said; +“but boldness makes the man and the country. I dare say you will. You +have the head; and one clear head can turn many fools, as the rudder does the +ship, and guide them when they are turned. I dare say that you will be +President one day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I shall be President, and when I am I will drive the Englishmen out +of South Africa. This I will do with the help of the Natal Zulus. Then I will +destroy the natives, as T’Chaka destroyed, keeping only enough for +slaves. That is my plan, uncle; it is a good one.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a big one; I am not certain that it is a good one. But good or +bad, who shall say? You may carry it out, nephew, if you live. A man with +brains and wealth may carry out anything if he lives. But there is a God. I +believe, Frank Muller, that there is a God, and I believe that God sets a limit +to a man’s doings. If he is going too far, God kills him. <i>If you +live</i>, Frank Muller, you will do these things, but perhaps God will kill +you. Who can say? You will do what God wills, not what <i>you</i> will.” +</p> + +<p> +The elder man was speaking seriously now. Muller felt that this was none of the +whining cant people in authority among the Boers find it desirable to adopt. It +was what he thought, and it chilled Muller in spite of his pretended +scepticism, as the sincere belief of an intellectual man, however opposite to +our own, is apt to chill us into doubt of ourselves and our opinions. For a +moment his slumbering superstition awoke, and he felt half afraid. Between him +and that bright future of blood and power lay a dark gulf. Suppose that gulf +should be death, and the future nothing but a dream—or worse! His face +fell as the idea occurred to him, and the General noticed it. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he went on, “he who lives will see. Meanwhile you +have done good service to the State, and you shall have your reward, cousin. If +I am President”—he laid emphasis on this, the meaning of which his +listener did not miss—“if by the support of my followers I become +President, I will not forget you. And now I must up-saddle and ride back. I +want to be at Laing’s Nek in sixty hours, to wait for General +Wood’s answer. You will see about the sending in of those +prisoners;” and he knocked out his pipe and rose. +</p> + +<p> +“By the way, <i>Meinheer</i>,” said Muller, suddenly adopting a +tone of respect, “I have a favour to ask.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, nephew?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want a pass for two friends of mine—English people—in +Pretoria to go down to their relations in Wakkerstroom district. They sent a +message to me by Hans Coetzee.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t like giving passes,” answered the General with some +irritation. “You know what it means, letting out messengers. I wonder you +ask me.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a small favour, <i>Meinheer</i>, and I do not think that it will +matter. Pretoria will not be besieged much longer; I am under an obligation to +the people.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well, as you like; but if any harm comes of it, you will be held +responsible. Write the pass; I will sign it.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank Muller sat down and wrote and dated the paper. Its contents were simple: +“Pass the bearers unharmed.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is big enough to drive a waggon along,” said the General, +when it was handed to him to sign. “It might mean all Pretoria.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not certain if there are two or three of them,” answered +Muller carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well, you are responsible. Give me the pen,” and he scrawled +his big coarse signature on the paper. +</p> + +<p> +“I propose, with your permission, to escort the cart down with two other +men. As you are aware, I go to take over the command of the Wakkerstroom +district to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good. It is your affair; you are responsible. I shall ask no +questions, provided your friends do no harm to the cause;” and he left +the room without another word. +</p> + +<p> +When the great man had gone, Frank Muller sat down again on the bench and +looked at the pass, and communed with himself, for he was far too wise to +commune with anybody else. “The Lord hath delivered mine enemy into mine +hand,” he said with a smile, and stroked his golden beard. “Well, +well, I will not waste His merciful opportunities as I did that day out +buck-shooting. And then for Bessie. I suppose I shall have to kill old Croft +too. I am sorry for that, but it can’t be helped; besides, if anything +should happen to Jess, Bessie will take Mooifontein, and that is worth having. +Not that I want more land; I have enough. Yes, I will marry her. It would serve +her right if I didn’t; but, after all, marriage is more respectable; also +one has more hold of a wife. Nobody will interfere for her. Then, she will be +of use to me by-and-by, for a beautiful woman is a power even among these +fellow-countrymen of mine, if only a man knows how to bait his lines with her. +Yes, I shall marry her. Bah! that is the way to win a woman—by capture; +and, what is more, they like it. It makes her worth winning too. It will be a +courtship of blood. Well, the kisses will be the sweeter, and in the end she +will love me the more for what I have dared for her. +</p> + +<p> +“So, Frank Muller, so! Ten years ago you said to yourself: ‘There +are three things worth having in the world—first, wealth; secondly, +women, if they take your fancy, or, better still, one woman, if you desire her +above all others; thirdly, power.’ Now, you have got the wealth, for one +way or another you are the richest man in the Transvaal. In a week you will +have the woman you love, and who is sweeter to you than all the world besides. +In five years’ time you will have the power—absolute power. That +old man is clever; he will be President. But I am cleverer. I shall soon take +his seat, thus”—and he rose and seated himself in the +General’s chair—“and he will go down a step and take mine. +Ay, and then I will reign. My tongue shall be honey and my hand iron. I will +pass over the land like a storm. I will drive these English out with the help +of the Kafirs, and then I will kill the Kafirs and take their country. +Ah!”—and his eyes flashed and his nostrils dilated as he said it to +himself—“then life will be worth living! What a thing is power! +What a thing it is to be able to destroy! Take that Englishman, my rival: +to-day he is well and strong; in three days he will be gone utterly, and +I—I shall have sent him away. That is power. But when the time comes that +I have only to stretch out my hand to send thousands after him!—that will +be absolute power; and then with Bessie I shall be happy.” +</p> + +<p> +And so he dreamed on for an hour or more, till at last the fumes of his +untutored imagination actually drowned his reason in a spiritual drunkenness. +Picture after picture rose and unrolled itself before his mind’s eye. He +saw himself as President addressing the <i>Volksraad</i>, and compelling it to +his will. He saw himself, the supreme general of a great host, defeating the +forces of England with awful carnage, and driving them before him; ay, he even +selected the battle-ground on the slopes of the Biggarsberg in Natal. Then he +saw himself again, sweeping the natives out of South Africa with the relentless +besom of his might, and ruling unquestioned over a submissive people. And, last +of all, he saw something glittering at his feet—it was a crown! +</p> + +<p> +This was the climax of his dream. Then there came an anticlimax. The rich +imagination which had been leading him on as a gaudy butterfly does a child, +suddenly changed colour and dropped to earth; and there rose up in his mind the +memory of the General’s words: “God sets a limit to a man’s +doings. If he is going too far, <i>God kills him</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +The butterfly had settled on a coffin! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap21"></a>CHAPTER XXI.<br/> +JESS GETS A PASS</h2> + +<p> +About half-past ten on the morning following her interview with Hans Coetzee, +Jess was at “The Palatial” as usual, and John was just finishing +packing the cart with such few goods as they possessed. There was little chance +of his labour proving of material use, for he did not in the slightest degree +expect that they would get the pass; but, as he said cheerfully, it was as good +an amusement as any other. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, Jess,” he called out presently, “come here.” +</p> + +<p> +“What for?” asked Jess, who was seated on the doorstep mending +something, and looking at her favourite view. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I want to speak to you.” +</p> + +<p> +She rose and went, feeling rather angry with herself for going. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she said tartly, “here I am. What is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have finished packing the cart, that’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you mean to tell me that you have brought me round here to say +that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, of course I have; exercise is good for the young.” Then he +laughed, and she laughed too. +</p> + +<p> +It was all nothing—nothing at all—but somehow it was very +delightful. Certainly mutual affection, even when unexpressed, has a way of +making things go happily, and can find entertainment anywhere. +</p> + +<p> +Just then, who should arrive but Mrs. Neville, in a great state of excitement, +and, as usual, fanning herself with her hat. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think, Captain Niel? The prisoners have come in, and I heard +one of the Boers in charge say that he had a pass signed by the Boer general +for some English people, and that he was coming over to see about them +presently. Who can it be?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is for us,” said Jess quickly. “We are going home. I saw +Hans Coetzee yesterday, and begged him to try and get us a pass, and I suppose +he has.” +</p> + +<p> +“My word! going to get out: well, you are lucky! Let me sit down and +write a letter to my great-uncle at the Cape. You must post it when you can. He +is ninety-four, and rather soft, but I dare say he will like to hear from +me,” and she hurried into the house to give her aged relative—who, +by the way, laboured under the impression that she was still a little girl of +four years of age—as minute an account of the siege of Pretoria as time +would allow. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, John, you had better tell Mouti to put the horses in. We shall +have to start presently,” said Jess. +</p> + +<p> +“Ay,” he said, pulling his beard thoughtfully, “I suppose +that we shall;” adding, by way of an afterthought, “Are you glad to +go?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she said, with a sudden flash of passion and a stamp of the +foot. Then she turned and entered the house again. +</p> + +<p> +“Mouti,” said John to the Zulu, who was lounging about in a way +characteristic of that intelligent but unindustrious race, “inspan the +horses. We are going back to Mooifontein.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Koos!</i>” said the Zulu unconcernedly, and started on the +errand as though it were the most everyday occurrence to drive off home out of +a closely beleaguered town. That is another beauty of the Zulu race: you cannot +astonish them. No doubt they consider that extraordinary mixture of wisdom and +insanity, the white man, to be <i>capable du tout</i>, as the agnostic French +critic said in despair of the prophet Zerubbabel. +</p> + +<p> +John stood and watched the inspanning absently. In truth, he, too, was +conscious of a sensation of regret. He felt ashamed of himself for it, but +there it was; he was sorry to leave the place. For the last week or so he had +been living in a dream, and everything outside that dream was blurred, +indistinct as a landscape in a fog. He knew the objects were there, but he +could not quite appreciate their relative size and position. The only real +thing was his dream; all else was as vague as those far-off people and events +that we lose in infancy and find again in old age. +</p> + +<p> +Now there would be an end of dreaming; the fog would lift, and he must face the +facts. Jess, with whom he had dreamed, would go away to Europe and he would +marry Bessie, and all this Pretoria business would glide away into the past +like a watch in the night. Well, it must be so; it was right and proper that it +should be so, and he for one would not flinch from his duty; but he must have +been more than human had he not felt the pang of awakening. It was all so very +unfortunate. +</p> + +<p> +By this time Mouti had got up the horses, and asked if he was to inspan. +</p> + +<p> +“No; wait a bit,” said John. “Very likely it is all +nonsense,” he added to himself. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when he caught sight of two armed +Boers of a peculiarly unpleasant type and rough appearance, riding across the +veldt towards “The Palatial” gate. With them was an escort of four +carbineers. At the gate they all stopped, and one of the Boers dismounted and +walked to where John was standing by the stable-door. +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Niel?” he said interrogatively, in English. +</p> + +<p> +“That is my name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then here is a letter for you;” and he handed him a folded paper. +</p> + +<p> +John opened it—it had no envelope—and read as follows: +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,—The bearer of this has with him a pass which it is understood +that you desire, giving you and Miss Jess Croft a safe-conduct to Mooifontein, +in the Wakkerstroom district of the Republic. The only condition attached to +the pass, which is signed by one of the honourable Triumvirate, is that you +must carry no despatches out of Pretoria. Upon your giving your word of honour +to the bearer that you will not do this he will hand you the pass.” +</p> + +<p> +This letter, which was fairly written and in good English, had no signature. +</p> + +<p> +“Who wrote this?” asked John of the Boer. +</p> + +<p> +“That is no affair of yours,” was the curt reply. “Will you +pass your word about the despatches?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good. Here is the pass;” and he handed over that document to John. +It was in the same handwriting as the letter, but signed by the Boer general. +</p> + +<p> +John examined it, and then called to Jess to come to translate it, who, having +heard the voice of the Boer, was on her way round the corner of the house. +</p> + +<p> +“It means, ‘Pass the bearers unharmed,’” she said, +“and the signature is genuine. I have seen Paul Krüger’s signature +before.” +</p> + +<p> +“When must we start?” asked John of the Boer. +</p> + +<p> +“At once, or not at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must drive round by the headquarter camp to explain my departure. They +will think that I have run away.” +</p> + +<p> +To this the Boer demurred, but finally, after going to the gate to consult his +companion, he consented and the two rode back to the headquarter camp, saying +that they would wait for the cart there, whereupon the horses were inspanned. +</p> + +<p> +In five minutes everything was ready, and the cart was standing on the roadway +in front of the little gate. After he had looked to all the straps and buckles, +and seen that the baggage was properly packed, John went to call Jess. He found +her by the doorstep, looking out at her favourite view. Her hand was placed +sideways against her forehead, as though to shade her eyes from the sun. But +where she was standing there was no sun, and John could not help guessing why +she was shading her eyes. She was crying at leaving the place in that quiet and +harrowing way which some women indulge in; that is to say, a few big tears were +rolling down her face. John felt a lump rise in his own throat at the sight, +and not unnaturally relieved his feelings by rough language. +</p> + +<p> +“What the deuce are you after?” he asked. “Are you going to +keep the horses standing all day?” +</p> + +<p> +Jess did not resent this. The probability is that she guessed its reason. +Besides, it is a melancholy fact that women rather like being sworn at than +otherwise, provided that the swearer is the man whom they are attached to. But +he must only swear on state occasions. At this moment, too, Mrs. Neville +plunged out of the house, licking an envelope as she ran. +</p> + +<p> +“There,” she said, “I hope you weren’t waiting for me. +I haven’t told the old gentleman half the news; in fact, I’ve only +taken him down to the time when the communications were cut, and I dare say he +has seen all that in the papers. But he won’t understand anything about +it, and if he does he will guess the rest; besides, for all I know, he may be +dead and buried by now. I shall have to owe you for the stamp. I think +it’s threepence. I’ll pay you when we meet again—that is, if +we ever do meet again. I’m beginning to think that this siege will go on +for all eternity. There, good-bye, my dear! God bless you! When you get out of +it, mind you write to the <i>Times</i>, in London, you know. There, don’t +cry. I am sure I should not cry if I were going to get out of this +place;” for at this point Jess took the opportunity of Mrs. +Neville’s fervent embrace to burst out into a sob or two. +</p> + +<p> +In another minute they were in the cart, and Mouti was scrambling up behind. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t cry, old girl,” said John, laying his hand upon her +shoulder. “What can’t be cured must be endured.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, John,” she answered, and dried her tears. +</p> + +<p> +At the headquarter camp John went in and explained the circumstances of his +departure. At first the officer who was temporarily in command—the +Commandant having been wounded at the same time that John was hit—rather +demurred to his going, especially when he learned that he had passed his word +not to carry despatches. Presently, however, he thought better of it, and said +he supposed that it was all right, as he could not see that their departure +could do the garrison any harm: “rather the reverse, in fact, because you +can tell people how we are getting on in this God-forsaken hole. I only wish +that somebody would give me a pass, that’s all.” So John shook +hands with him and left, to find an eager crowd gathered outside. +</p> + +<p> +The news of their good luck had gone abroad, and everybody was running down to +hear the truth of it. Such an event as a departure out of Pretoria had not +happened for a couple of months and more, and the excitement was proportionate +to its novelty. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, Niel, is it true you are going?” halloed a burly farmer. +</p> + +<p> +“How the deuce did you get a pass?” put in another man with a face +like a weasel. He was what is known as a <i>Boer vernuker</i> (literally a +“Boer cheater”), that is, a travelling trader whose business it is +to beguile the simple-minded Dutchman by selling him worthless goods at five +times their value. “I have loads of friends among the Boers. There is +hardly a Boer in the Transvaal who does not know me”—(“To his +cost,” put in a bystander with a grunt)—“and yet I have tried +all I know”—(“And you know a good deal,” said the same +rude man)—“and <i>I</i> can’t get a pass.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t suppose those poor Boers are going to let you out once +they have got you in?” went on the tormentor. “Why, man, it’s +against human nature. You’ve got all their wool: now do you think they +want you to have their skin too?” +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon the weasel-faced individual uttered a howl of wrath, and pretended to +make a rush at the author of these random gibes, waiting halfway for somebody +to stop him and prevent a breach of the peace. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Miss Croft!” cried out a woman in the crowd, who, like Jess, +had been trapped in Pretoria while on a flying visit, “if you can, do +send a line to my husband at Maritzburg, to tell him that I am well, except for +the rheumatism from sleeping on the wet ground; and tell him to kiss the twins +for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I say, Niel, tell those Boers that we will give them a d—d good +hiding yet, when Colley relieves us,” sang out a jolly young Englishman +in the uniform of the Pretoria Carbineers. He little knew that poor +Colley—kind-hearted English gentleman that he was—lay sleeping +peacefully under six feet of ground with a Boer bullet in his brain. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Captain Niel, if you are ready, we must trek,” said one of +the Boers in Dutch, suiting the action to the word by giving the near wheeler a +sharp cut with his riding <i>sjambock</i> that made him jump nearly out of the +traces. +</p> + +<p> +Away started the horses with a plunge, scattering the crowd to the right and +left, and, amid a volley of farewells, they were off upon their homeward +journey. +</p> + +<p> +For more than an hour nothing particular happened. John drove at a fair pace, +and the two Boers cantered along behind. At the end of this time, however, just +as they were approaching the Red House, where Frank Muller had obtained the +pass from the General on the previous day, one of the Boers rode up and told +them, roughly enough, that they were to outspan at the house, where they would +find some food. As it was past one o’clock, they were by no means sorry +to hear this, and John drew up the cart about fifty yards from the place, where +they outspanned the horses, and, having watched them roll and drink, they went +up to the house. +</p> + +<p> +The two Boers, who had also off-saddled, were already sitting on the verandah, +and when Jess looked inquiringly towards them one of them pointed with his pipe +towards the little room. Taking the hint, they entered, and found a Hottentot +woman just setting some food upon the table. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is dinner; let us eat it,” said John; “goodness knows +when we will get any more;” and accordingly he sat down. +</p> + +<p> +As he did so the two Boers came in, and one of them made some sneering remark +that caused the other to look at them and laugh insultingly. +</p> + +<p> +John flushed, but took no notice. Indeed he thought it safest not, for, to tell +the truth, he did not much like the appearance of these two worthies. One of +them was a big, smooth, pasty-faced man, with a peculiarly villainous +expression of countenance and a prominent tooth that projected in ghastly +isolation over his lower lip. The other was a small man, with a sardonic smile, +a profusion of black beard and whiskers on his face, and long hair hanging on +to his shoulders. Indeed, when he smiled more vigorously than usual, his +eyebrows came down and his whiskers advanced, and his moustache went up till +there was scarcely any face left, and he looked more like a great bearded +monkey than a human being. This man was a Boer of the wildest type from the far +borders of Zoutpansberg, and did not understand a word of English. Jess +nicknamed him the Vilderbeeste, from his likeness to that ferocious-looking and +hairy animal. His companion, on the other hand, understood English perfectly, +for he had passed many years of his life in Natal, having left that colony on +account of some little indiscretion about thrashing Kafirs which had brought +him into collision with the penal laws. Jess named him the Unicorn, on account +of his one gleaming tusk. +</p> + +<p> +The Unicorn was an unusually pious person, and on arriving at the table, to +John’s astonishment, gently but firmly he grasped the knife with which he +was about to cut the meat. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” said John. +</p> + +<p> +The Boer shook his head sadly. “No wonder, you English are an accursed +race, and have been given over into our hands as the great king Agag was given +into the hands of the Israelites, so that we have hewed you to pieces. You sit +down to meat and give no thanks to the dear Lord,” and he threw back his +head and sang out a portentously long Dutch grace through his nose. Not content +with this, he set to work to translate it to English, which took a good time; +nor was the rendering a very finished one in the result. +</p> + +<p> +The Vilderbeeste grinned sardonically and put in a pious “Amen,” +and then at last they were allowed to proceed with their dinner, which, on the +whole, was not a pleasant meal. But they could not expect much pleasure under +the circumstances, so they ate their food and made the best of a bad business. +After all, it might have been worse: they might have had no dinner to eat. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap22"></a>CHAPTER XXII.<br/> +ON THE ROAD</h2> + +<p> +John and Jess had finished their meal, and were about to leave the table, when +suddenly the door opened, and who should appear at it but Frank Muller himself! +Mistake was impossible; there he stood, stroking his long golden beard, as big, +as handsome, and, to Jess’s mind, as evil-looking as ever. The cold eyes +fell upon John with a glance of recognition, and something like a smile began +to play around the corners of the finely cut cruel mouth. Suddenly, however, +his gaze lit upon the two Boers, one of whom was picking his teeth with a steel +fork and the other lighting his pipe within a few inches of Jess’s head, +and instantly his face grew stern and angry. +</p> + +<p> +“Did I not tell you two men,” he said, “that you were not to +eat with the prisoners?”—this word struck awkwardly on Jess’s +ear. “I told you that they were to be treated with all respect, and here +I find you sprawling over the table and smoking in their faces. Be off with +you!” +</p> + +<p> +The smooth-faced man with the tusk rose at once with a sigh, put down the steel +fork with which he had been operating, and departed, recognising that +<i>Meinheer</i> Muller was not a commanding officer to be trifled with, but his +companion, the Vilderbeeste, demurred. “What,” he said, tossing his +head so as to throw the long black hair out of his eyes, “am I not fit to +sit at meat with a couple of accursed English—a <i>rooibaatje</i> and a +woman? If I had my way he should clean my boots and she should cut up my +tobacco;” and he grinned at the notion till eyebrows, whiskers, and +moustache nearly met round his nose, causing him to look for all the world like +a hairy-faced baboon. +</p> + +<p> +Frank Muller made no answer in words. He simply took one step forward, pounced +upon his insubordinate follower, and with a single swing of his athletic frame +sent him flying headlong through the door, so that this free and independent +burgher lit upon his head in the passage, smashing his pipe and considerably +damaging his best feature—his nose. “There,” said Muller, +shutting the door after him, “that is the only way to deal with such a +fellow. And now let me bid you good-day, Miss Jess,” and he extended his +hand, which Jess took, rather coldly it must be owned. +</p> + +<p> +“It has given me great pleasure to be able to do you this little +service,” he added politely. “I had considerable difficulty in +obtaining the pass from the General—indeed I was obliged to urge my +personal services before he would give it to me. But never mind that, I got it, +as you know, and it will be my care to escort you safely to Mooifontein.” +</p> + +<p> +Jess bowed, and Muller turned to John, who had risen from his chair and was +standing some two paces away, and addressed him. “Captain Niel,” he +said, “you and I have had some differences in the past. I hope that the +service I am doing you will prove that I, for one, bear no malice. I will go +farther. As I told you before, I was to blame in that affair in the inn-yard at +Wakkerstroom. Let us shake hands and end what we cannot mend,” and he +stepped forward and extended his hand. +</p> + +<p> +Jess turned to see what would happen. She knew the whole story, and hoped he +would not take the man’s hand; next, remembering their position, she +hoped that he would. +</p> + +<p> +John turned colour a little, then he drew himself up deliberately and put his +hand behind his back. +</p> + +<p> +“I am very sorry, Mr. Muller,” he said, “but even in our +present position I cannot shake hands with you; you will know why.” +</p> + +<p> +Jess saw a flush, bred of the furious passion which was his weak point, spread +itself over the Boer’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“I do <i>not</i> know, Captain Niel. Be so good as to explain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, I will,” said John calmly. “You tried to +assassinate me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” thundered Muller. +</p> + +<p> +“What I say. You shot at me twice under pretence of firing at a buck. +Look here!”—and he took up his soft black hat, which he still +wore—“here is the mark of one of your bullets! I did not know about +it then; I do now, and I decline to shake hands with you.” +</p> + +<p> +By this time Muller’s fury had got the better of him. “You shall +answer for that, you English liar!” he said, at the same time clapping +his hand to his belt, in which his hunting-knife was placed. Thus for a few +seconds they stood face to face. John never flinched or moved. There he stood, +quiet and strong as some old stubby tree, his plain honest face and watchful +eye affording a strange contrast to the beautiful but demoniacal countenance of +the great Dutchman. Presently he spoke in measured tones. +</p> + +<p> +“I have proved myself a better man than yourself once, Frank Muller, and +if necessary I will again, notwithstanding that knife of yours. But, in the +meantime, I wish to remind you that I have a pass signed by your own General +guaranteeing our safety. And now, Mr. Muller,” with a flash of the blue +eyes, “I am ready.” The Dutchman drew the knife, but replaced it in +its sheath. For a moment he was minded to end the matter then and there, but +suddenly, even in his rage, he remembered that there was a witness. +</p> + +<p> +“A pass from the General!” he said, forgetting his caution in his +fury. “Much good a pass from the General is likely to be to you. You are +in my power, man! If I choose to close my hand I can crush you. But +there—there,” he added, checking himself, “perhaps I ought to +make allowances. You are one of a defeated people, and no doubt are sore, and +say what you do not mean. Anyhow, there is an end of it, especially in the +presence of a lady. Some day we may be able to settle our trouble like men, +Captain Niel; till then, with your permission, we will let it drop.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so, Mr. Muller,” said John, “only you must not ask me +to shake hands with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good, Captain Niel; and now, if you will allow me, I will tell the +boy to get your horses in; we must be getting on if we are to reach Heidelberg +to-night.” And he bowed himself out, feeling that once more his temper +had endangered the success of his plans. “Curse the fellow!” he +said to himself: “he is what those English call a gentleman. It was brave +of him to refuse to take my hand when he is in my power.” +</p> + +<p> +“John,” said Jess, as soon as the door had closed, “I am +afraid of that man. If I had understood that he had anything to do with the +pass I would not have taken it. I thought that the writing was familiar to me. +Oh dear! I wish we had stopped at Pretoria.” +</p> + +<p> +“What can’t be cured must be endured,” said John again. +“The only thing to do is to make the best of it, and get on as we can. +You will be all right anyhow, but he hates me like poison. I suppose that it is +on account of Bessie.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s it,” said Jess: “he is, or was, madly in +love with Bessie.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is curious to think that a man like that can be in love,” +remarked John as he lit his pipe, “but it only shows what queer mixtures +people are. I say, Jess, if this fellow hates me so much, what made him give me +the pass, eh? What’s his game?” +</p> + +<p> +Jess shook her head as she answered, “I don’t know, John; I +don’t like it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose he can’t mean to murder me; he did try it on once, you +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, John,” she answered with a sort of cry, “not +that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t know that it would matter much,” he said, with +an approach to cheerfulness which was rather a failure. “It would save +one a deal of worry, and only anticipate things a bit. But there, I frightened +you, and I dare say that, for the present at any rate, he is an honest man, and +has no intentions on my person. Look! there is Mouti calling us. I wonder if +those brutes have given him anything to eat! We’ll secure the rest of +this leg of mutton on chance. At any rate, Mr. Frank Muller sha’n’t +starve me to death,” and with a cheerful laugh he left the room. +</p> + +<p> +In a few minutes they were on their road again. As they started Frank Muller +came up, took off his hat, and informed them that probably he would join them +on the morrow below Heidelberg, in which town they would find every preparation +to enable them to spend the night comfortably. If he did not join them it would +be because he was detained on duty. In that case the two men had his orders to +escort them safely to Mooifontein, and, he added significantly, “I do not +think that you will be troubled with any further impoliteness.” +</p> + +<p> +In another moment he had galloped off on his great black horse, leaving the +pair considerably mystified and not a little relieved. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said John, “at any rate that does not look like foul +play, unless, indeed, he has gone on to prepare a warm reception for us.” +</p> + +<p> +Jess shrugged her shoulders, she could not understand it; and then they settled +themselves down to their long lonely drive. They had forty odd miles to cover, +but the guides, or rather the guard, would only consent to their outspanning +once, which they did on the open veldt a little before sunset. At sundown they +inspanned again, and started across the darkening veldt. The road was in a +shocking state, and until the moon rose, which it did about nine o’clock, +the journey was both difficult and dangerous. After that things were a little +better; and at last, about eleven o’clock, they reached Heidelberg. The +town seemed almost deserted. Evidently the great body of the Boers were at the +front, and had only left a guard at their seat of government. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are we to outspan?” asked John of the Unicorn, who was +jogging on alongside, apparently half asleep. +</p> + +<p> +“At the hotel,” was the short reply, and thither they went. +Thankful enough they were to reach it, and to find, from the lights in the +windows, that people were still about. +</p> + +<p> +Notwithstanding the awful jolting of the cart, Jess had been asleep for the +last two hours. Her arm was hooked round the back of the seat, and her head +rested against John’s great-coat, which he had fixed up in such a way as +to make a pillow. “Where are we?” she asked, waking up with a start +as the cart stopped. “I have had such a bad dream! I dreamt that I was +travelling through life, and that suddenly everything stopped, and I was +dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t wonder at it,” laughed John; “the road for the +last ten miles has been as rough as anybody’s life. We are at the hotel. +Here are the boys to take the horses,” and he clambered stiffly out of +the cart and helped or rather lifted her down, for she was almost too cramped +to move. +</p> + +<p> +Standing at the inn-door, holding a light above her head, they found a +pleasant-looking Englishwoman, who welcomed them heartily. +</p> + +<p> +“Frank Muller was here three hours ago, and told me to expect you,” +she said; “and very glad I am to see an English face again, I can tell +you. My name is Gooch. Tell me, is my husband all right in Pretoria? He went up +there with his waggon just before the siege began, and I have not heard a word +from him since.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said John, “he is all right. He was slightly wounded +in the shoulder a month ago, but he has quite recovered.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank God!” said the poor woman, beginning to cry; +“those devils told me that he was dead—to torment me, I suppose. +Come in, miss: there is some hot supper ready when you have washed your hands. +The boys will see to the horses.” +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly they entered, and were made as happy as a good supper, a hearty +welcome, and comfortable beds could make people in their condition. +</p> + +<p> +In the early morning one of their estimable escort sent in a message to say +that they were not to start before half-past ten, as the horses required more +rest, so they enjoyed some hours longer in bed than they had expected, and +anybody who has ever made a journey in a post-cart in South Africa can +understand the blessing thereof. At nine they breakfasted, and as the clock +struck half-past ten Mouti brought the cart round, and with it came the two +Boers. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Mrs. Gooch,” said John, “what do we owe you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, Captain Niel, nothing. If you only knew what a weight you have +taken off my mind! Besides, we are quite ruined; the Boers have looted all my +husband’s cattle and horses, and until last week six of them were +quartered on me without paying a farthing, so it makes no odds to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, Mrs. Gooch,” said John cheerfully, “the +Government will compensate you when this business is over, no doubt.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gooch shook her head prophetically. “Never a halfpenny do I expect +to see,” she said. “If only I can get my husband back, and we can +escape out of this wicked place with our lives, I shall be thankful. And look +here, Captain Niel, I have put up a basketful of food—bread, meat, and +hard-boiled eggs, with a bottle of three-star brandy. It may be useful to you +and the young lady before you reach home. I don’t know where you will +sleep to-night, for the English are still holding Standerton, so you +won’t be able to stop there, and you can’t drive right through. No, +don’t thank me, I could not do less. Good-bye—good-bye, miss; I +hope you will get through all right. You had better look out, though. Those two +men you have with you are very bad lots. I heard say, rightly or wrongly, that +that fat-faced man with the tooth shot two wounded soldiers through the head +after the fight at Bronker’s Spruit, and I know no good of the other. +They were laughing and talking together about you in the kitchen this morning; +one of my boys overheard them, and the Boer with the long hair said that, at +any rate, they would not be troubled with you after to-night. I don’t +know what he meant; perhaps they are going to change the escort; but I thought +that I had better tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +John looked grave, and his suspicions re-arose, but at that moment one of the +men in question rode up and told him that he must start at once, and so off +they went. +</p> + +<p> +This second day’s journey was in many respects a counterpart of the +first. The road was utterly deserted, and they saw neither Boer, Englishman, +nor Kafir upon it; nothing, indeed, except a few herds of game grazing on the +ridges. About two o’clock, however, just as they had started after a +short outspan, a little incident occurred. Suddenly the Vilderbeeste’s +horse put his foot into an ant-bear hole and fell heavily, throwing his rider +on to his head. He was up in a minute, but his forehead had struck against the +jawbone of a dead buck, and the blood was pouring from it down his hairy face. +His companion laughed brutally at the accident, for there are some natures in +the world to which the sight of pain is irresistibly comical, but the injured +man cursed aloud, trying to staunch the flow with the lappet of his coat. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Waacht een beeche</i>,” said Jess, “there is some water +in that pool,” and telling John to pull up she sprang from the trap and +led the man, who was half-blinded with blood, to the spring. Here she made him +kneel down and bathed the wound, which was not a very deep one, till it stopped +bleeding, and then, having first placed a pad of cotton-wool, some of which she +happened to have in the cart, upon it, she bound her handkerchief tightly round +his head. The man, brute as he was, appeared to be much touched at her +kindness. +</p> + +<p> +“Almighty,” he said, “but you have a kind heart and soft +fingers; my own wife could not have done it better; it is a pity that you are a +damned Englishwoman.” +</p> + +<p> +Jess climbed back into the cart, making no reply, and they started on, the +Vilderbeeste looking more savage and unhuman than ever with the discoloured +handkerchief round his head, and his dense black beard and hair mattered with +gore which he would not take the trouble to wash out of them. +</p> + +<p> +After this nothing further occurred till, by the orders of their escort, they +outspanned, an hour or so before sunset, at a spot in the veldt where a faint +track forked from the Standerton road. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap23"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.<br/> +IN THE DRIFT OF THE VAAL</h2> + +<p> +The day had been intensely hot, and our travellers sat in the shade of the cart +overpowered and gasping. During the afternoon a faint breeze blew, but this had +now died away, and the stifling air felt as thick as though they were breathing +cream. Even the two Boers seemed to feel the heat, for they lay outstretched on +the grass a few paces to the left, to all appearance fast asleep. As for the +horses, they were thoroughly done up—too much so to eat—and hobbled +along as well as their knee-halters would allow, daintily picking a mouthful +here and a mouthful there. The only person who did not seem to mind was the +Zulu Mouti, who sat on an ant-heap near the horses, in full glare of the +setting sun, and comfortably droned out a little song of his own invention, for +Zulus seem as clever at improvising as are the Italians. +</p> + +<p> +“Have another egg, Jess?” said John. “It will do you +good.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you; the last one stuck in my throat. It is impossible to eat +in this heat.” +</p> + +<p> +“You had better. Goodness knows when and where we shall stop again. I can +get nothing out of our delightful escort; either they don’t know or they +won’t say.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t, John. There is a thunderstorm coming up. I feel it in my +head, and I can never eat before a thunderstorm—and when I am +tired,” she added by an afterthought. +</p> + +<p> +After that the conversation flagged for a while. +</p> + +<p> +“John,” said Jess at last, “where do you suppose we are going +to camp to-night? If we follow the main road we shall reach Standerton in an +hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think that they will go near Standerton,” he +answered, “I suppose that we shall cross the Vaal by another drift and +have to ‘veldt’ it.” +</p> + +<p> +Just then the two Boers woke up and began to talk earnestly together, as though +they were debating something hotly. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly the huge red ball of the sun sank towards the horizon, steeping the +earth and sky in blood. About a hundred yards from where they sat the little +bridle path that branched from the main road crossed the crest of one of the +great landwaves which rolled away in every direction towards the far horizon. +John watched the sun sinking behind it till something called off his attention +for a minute. When he looked up again there was a figure on horseback, standing +quite still upon the crest of the ridge, and in full glow of the now +disappearing sun. It was Frank Muller. John recognised him in a moment. His +horse was halted sideways, so that even at that distance every line of his +features, and even the trigger-guard of the rifle which rested on his knee, +showed distinctly against the background of smoky red. Nor was that all. Both +he and his horse had the appearance of being absolutely on fire. The effect +produced was so wild and extraordinary that John called his companion’s +attention to it. Jess looked and shuddered involuntarily. +</p> + +<p> +“He looks like a devil in hell,” she said; “the fire seems to +be running all up and down him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said John, “he is certainly a devil, but I am sorry +to say that he has not yet reached his destination. Here he comes, like a +whirlwind.” +</p> + +<p> +In another twenty seconds Muller had reined the great black horse on to his +haunches alongside of them, and was smiling sweetly and taking off his hat. +</p> + +<p> +“You see I have managed to keep my word,” he said. “I can +tell you that I had great difficulty in doing so; indeed I was nearly obliged +to give the thing up at the last moment. However, here I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where are we to outspan to-night?” asked Jess. “At +Standerton?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said; “I am afraid that is more than I could manage +for you, unless you can persuade the English officers there to surrender. What +I have arranged is, that we should cross the Vaal at a drift I know of about +two hours (twelve miles) from here, and outspan at a farm on the other side. Do +not trouble, I assure you you shall both sleep well to-night,” and he +smiled, a somewhat terrifying smile, as Jess thought. +</p> + +<p> +“But how about this drift, Mr. Muller?” said John. “Is it +safe? I should have thought the Vaal would have been in flood after all the +rain that we have had.” +</p> + +<p> +“The drift is perfectly safe, Captain Niel. I crossed it myself about two +hours ago. I know you have a bad opinion of me, but I suppose you do not think +that I would guide you to an unsafe drift?” Then with another bow he rode +on to speak to the two Boers, saying, as he went, “Will you tell the +Kafir to put the horses in?” +</p> + +<p> +With a shrug of the shoulders John rose and went to Mouti, to help him to drive +up the four greys, which were now standing limply together, biting at the +flies, that, before a storm, sting more sharply than at any other time. The two +horses belonging to the escort were some fifty paces to the left. It was as +though they appreciated the position of affairs, and declined to mix with the +animals of the discredited Englishman. +</p> + +<p> +The Boers rose as Muller came and walked towards their horses, Muller slowly +following them. As they drew near, the horses hobbled away for twenty or thirty +yards. Then they lifted up their heads, and, as a consequence, their forelegs, +to which the heads were tied, and stood looking defiantly at their captors, +just as though they were trying to make up their minds whether or not to shake +hands with them. +</p> + +<p> +Frank Muller was alongside the two men now, and they were alongside the horses. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen!” he said sternly. +</p> + +<p> +The men looked up. +</p> + +<p> +“Go on loosening the reims, and listen.” +</p> + +<p> +They obeyed, and slowly began to fumble at the knee-halters. +</p> + +<p> +“You understand what our orders are. Repeat them—you!” +</p> + +<p> +The man with the tooth, who was addressed, still handling the reim, began as +follows: “To take the two prisoners to the Vaal, to force them into the +water where there is no drift, at night, so that they drown: if they do not +drown, to shoot them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Those are the orders,” said the Vilderbeeste, grinning. +</p> + +<p> +“You understand them?” +</p> + +<p> +“We understand, <i>Meinheer</i>; but, forgive us, the matter is a big +one. You have the orders—we wish to see the authority.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yah, yah,” said the other, “show us the authority. These are +two harmless people enough. Show us the authority for killing them. People must +not be killed so, even if they are English folk, without proper authority, +especially when one is a pretty girl who would do for a man’s +wife.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank Muller set his teeth. “Nice fellows you are to have under +one!” he said. “I am your officer; what other authority do you +want? But I thought of this. See here!” and he drew a paper from his +pocket. “Here, you—read it! Careful now—do not let them see +from the waggon.” +</p> + +<p> +The big flabby-faced man took the paper and, still bending down over the +horse’s knee, read aloud: +</p> + +<p> +“The two prisoners and their servant (an Englishman, an English girl, and +a Zulu Kafir) to be executed in pursuance of our decree, as your commanding +officer shall order, as enemies to the Republic. For so doing this shall be +your warrant.” +</p> + +<p> +“You see the signature,” said Muller, “and you do not dispute +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yah, we see it, and we do not dispute it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good. Give me back the warrant.” +</p> + +<p> +The man with the tooth was about to obey when his companion interposed. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said, “the warrant must remain with us. I do not +like the job. If it were only the man and the Kafir now—but the girl, the +girl! If we give you back the warrant, what shall we have to show for the deed +of blood? The warrant must remain with us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yah, yah, he is right,” said the Unicorn; “the warrant must +remain with us. Put it in your pocket, Jan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Curse you, give it me!” said Muller between his teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Frank Muller, no!” answered the Vilderbeeste, patting his +pocket, while the two or three square inches of skin round his nose wrinkled up +in a hairy grin that, owing to the cut on his head, was even more curious than +usual. “If you wish to have the warrant you shall have it, but then we +shall up-saddle and go, and you can do your murdering yourself. There, there! +take your choice; we shall be glad enough to get home, for we do not care for +the job. If I go out shooting I like to shoot buck or Kafirs, not white +people.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank Muller reflected a moment, then he laughed a little. +</p> + +<p> +“You are funny folk, you home-bred Boers,” he said; “but +perhaps you are right. After all, what does it matter who keeps the warrant, +provided that the thing is well done? Mind that there is no bungling, that is +all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yah, yah,” said the fat-faced man, “you can trust us for +that. It won’t be the first that we have toppled over. If I have my +warrant I ask nothing better than to go on shooting Englishmen all night, one +down the other come on. I know no prettier sight than an Englishman toppling +over.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop that talk and saddle up, the cart is waiting. You fools can never +understand the difference between killing when it is necessary to kill and +killing for killing’s sake. These people must die because they have +betrayed the land.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yah, yah,” said the Vilderbeeste, “betrayed the land; we +have heard that before. Those who betray the land must manure it; that is a +good rule!” and he laughed and passed on. +</p> + +<p> +Frank Muller watched his retreating form with a smile of peculiar malignity on +his handsome face. “Ah, my friend,” he said to himself in Dutch, +“you and that warrant will part company before you are many hours older. +Why, it would be enough to hang me, even in this happy land of patriots. Old +—— would never forgive even me for taking that little liberty with +his name. Dear me, what a lot of trouble it is to be rid of a single enemy! +Well, it must be done, and Bessie is well worth the pains; but if it had not +been for this war I could never have managed it. Yes! I did well to give my +voice for war. I am sorry for the girl Jess, but it is necessary; there must be +no living witnesses left. Ah! we are going to have a storm. So much the better. +Such deeds are best done in a storm.” +</p> + +<p> +Muller was right; the storm was coming up fast, throwing a veil of inky cloud +across the star-spangled sky. In South Africa there is but little twilight, and +the darkness follows hard upon the heels of the day. No sooner had the angry +ball of the setting sun disappeared than the night swept with all her stars +across the sky. And now after her came the great storm, covering up her beauty +with his blackness. The air was stiflingly hot. Above was a starry space, to +the east the black bosom of the storm, in which the lightnings were already +playing with an incessant flickering movement, and to the west a deep red glow, +reflected from the sunken sun, yet lingered on the horizon. +</p> + +<p> +On toiled the horses through the gathering gloom. Fortunately, the road was +almost level and free from mud-holes, and Frank Muller rode just ahead to show +the way, his strong athletic form standing out clearly against the departing +western glow. Silent was the earth, silent as death. No bird or beast, no blade +of grass or breath of air stirred upon its surface. The only sign of life was +the continual flickering of those awful tongues of light as they licked the +lips of the storm. On for mile after mile, on through the desolation! They were +not far from the river now, and could hear the distant growling of the thunder, +echoing down it solemnly. +</p> + +<p> +It was an awful night. Great pillars of mud-coloured cloud came creeping across +the surface of the veldt towards them, seemingly blown along without a wind. +Now, too, a ghastly-looking ringed moon arose throwing an unholy and distorted +light upon the blackness that seemed to shudder in her rays as though with a +prescience of the advancing terror. On crept the mud-coloured columns, and on +above them, and resting on them, came the muttering storm. The cart was quite +close to the river now, and they could distinguish the murmur of its waters. To +their left stood a koppie, covered with white, slab-like stones, on which the +sickly moonbeams danced. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, John, look!” cried Jess with an hysterical laugh; “it +is like a huge graveyard, and the dark shadows between are the ghosts of the +buried.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense,” said John sternly; “why do you talk such +rubbish?” +</p> + +<p> +He felt that her mind had lost its balance, and, what is more, his own nerves +were shaken. Therefore he was naturally the angrier with her, and the more +determined to be perfectly matter-of-fact. +</p> + +<p> +Jess made no answer, but she was frightened, she could not tell why. The scene +resembled that of some awful dream, or of one of Doré’s pictures come to +life. No doubt, also, the near presence of the tempest exercised a physical +effect upon her. Even the wearied horses snorted and shook themselves uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +They crept over the ridge of a wave of land, and the wheels rolled softly on +the grass. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, we are off the road!” shouted John to Muller, who was still +guiding them, fifteen or twenty paces ahead. +</p> + +<p> +“All right! all right! it is a short cut to the ford!” he called in +answer, and his voice rang strange and hollow through the great depths of the +silence. +</p> + +<p> +Below them, a hundred yards away, the light, such as it was, gleamed faintly +upon the wide surface of the river. Another five minutes and they were on the +bank, but in the gathering gloom they could not see the opposite shore. +</p> + +<p> +“Turn to the left!” shouted Muller; “the ford is a few yards +up. It is too deep here for the horses.” +</p> + +<p> +John turned accordingly, and followed Muller’s horse some three hundred +yards up the bank till they came to a spot where the water ran with an angry +music, and there was a great swirl of eddies. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is the place,” said Muller; “you must make haste +through. The house is just the other side, and it will be better to get there +before the tempest breaks.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is all very well,” said John, “but I cannot see an inch +before me; I don’t know where to drive.” +</p> + +<p> +“Drive straight ahead; the water is not more than three feet deep, and +there are no rocks.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not going, and that is all about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must go, Captain Niel. You cannot stop here, and if you can we will +not. Look there, man!” and he pointed to the east, which now presented a +truly awful and magnificent sight. +</p> + +<p> +Down, right on to them, its centre bowed out like the belly of a sail by the +weight of the wind behind, swept the great storm-cloud, while over all its +surface the lightning played unceasingly, appearing and disappearing in needles +of fire, and twisting and writhing serpentwise round and about its outer edges. +So brilliant was the intermittent light that it appeared to fire the revolving +pillars of mud-coloured cloud beneath, and gave ghastly peeps of river and bank +and plain, miles upon miles away. But perhaps its most awful circumstance was +the preternatural silence. The distant boom and muttering of thunder had died +away, and now the great storm swept on in voiceless majesty, like the passage +of a ghostly host, from which there arose no sound of feet or of rolling +wheels. Only before it sped the swift angels of the wind, and behind it swung +the curtain of the rain. +</p> + +<p> +Even as Muller spoke a gust of icy air caught the cart and tilted it, and the +lightning needles began to ply more dreadfully than ever. The tempest was +breaking upon them. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, drive on, drive on!” he shouted, “you will be killed +here; the lightning always strikes along the water;” and as he said it he +struck one of the wheelers sharply with his whip. +</p> + +<p> +“Climb over the back of the seat, Mouti, and stand by to help me with the +reins!” called out John to the Zulu, who obeyed, scrambling between him +and Jess. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Jess, hold on and say your prayers, for it strikes me that we shall +have need of them. So, horses, so!” +</p> + +<p> +The horses backed and plunged, but Muller on the one side and the smooth-faced +Boer on the other lashed them without mercy, and at last they went into the +river with a rush. The gust had passed now, and for a few moments the heavy +quiet was renewed, except for the whirl of the water and the snake-like hiss of +the coming rain. +</p> + +<p> +For some yards, ten or fifteen perhaps, all went well, and then John discovered +suddenly that they were driving into deep water; the two leaders were evidently +almost off their legs, and could scarcely stand against the current of the +flooded river. +</p> + +<p> +“Damn you!” he shouted back, “there is no drift here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go on, go on, it is quite safe!” came Muller’s voice in +answer. +</p> + +<p> +John said no more, but, putting out all his strength, he tried to drag the +horses round. Jess turned herself on the seat to look, and just then a blaze of +lightning flamed which revealed Muller and his two companions standing +dismounted on the bank, the muzzles of their rifles pointing straight at the +cart. +</p> + +<p> +“O God!” she screamed, “they are going to shoot us.” +</p> + +<p> +Even as the words passed her lips three tongues of fire flared from the +rifles’ mouths, and the Zulu Mouti, sitting by her side, pitched heavily +forward on to his head into the bottom of the cart, while one of the wheelers +reared straight up into the air with a shriek of agony, and fell with a splash +into the river. +</p> + +<p> +Then followed a scene of horror indescribable. Overhead the storm burst in +fury, and flash after flash of fork, or rather chain lightning, leapt into the +river. The thunder, too, began to crack like the trump of doom; the wind rushed +down, tearing the surface of the water into foam, and, catching under the tent +of the cart, lifted it quite off the wheels, so that it began to float. Then +the two leaders, made mad with fear by the fury of the storm and the dying +struggles of the off-wheeler, plunged and tore at the traces till at last they +rent themselves loose and vanished between the darkness overhead and the +boiling water beneath. Away floated the cart, now touching the bottom and now +riding on the river like a boat, oscillating this way and that, and slowly +turning round and round. With it floated the dead horse, dragging down the +other wheeler beneath the water. It was awful to see his struggles in the glare +of the lightning, but at last he sank and choked. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, sounding sharply and clearly through the din and hubbub of the +storm, came the cracking of the three rifles whenever the flashes showed the +position of the cart to the murderers on the bank. Mouti was lying still in the +bottom of it on the bed-plank, a bullet between his broad shoulders and another +in his skull: but John felt that his life was yet whole in him, though +something had hissed past his face and stung it. Instinctively he reached +across the cart and drew Jess on to his knee, and cowered over her, thinking +dimly that perhaps his body would protect her from the bullets. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Rip! rip!</i> through the wood and canvas; <i>phut! phut!</i> through the +air; but some merciful power protected them, and though one cut John’s +coat and two passed through the skirt of Jess’s dress, not a bullet +struck them. Very soon the shooting began to grow wild, then that dense veil of +rain came down and wrapped them so closely that even the lightning could not +reveal their whereabouts to the assassins on the bank. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop shooting,” said Frank Muller; “the cart has sunk, and +there is an end of them. No human being can have lived through that fire and +the Vaal in flood.” +</p> + +<p> +The two Boers ceased firing, and the Unicorn shook his head softly and remarked +to his companion that the damned English people in the water could not be much +wetter than they were on the bank. It was a curious thing to say at such a +moment, but probably the spirit which caused the remark was not so much +callousness as that which animated Cromwell, who flipped the ink in his +neighbour’s face when he signed the death-warrant of his king. +</p> + +<p> +The Vilderbeeste made no reply. His conscience was oppressed; he had a touch of +imagination. He thought of the soft fingers which had bound up his head that +morning: the handkerchief—her handkerchief!—was still around it. +Now those fingers would be gripping at the slippery stones of the Vaal in a +struggle for life, or more probably they were already limp in death, with +little grains of gravel sticking beneath the nails. It was a painful thought, +but he consoled himself by remembering the warrant, also by the reflection that +whoever had shot the people he had not, for he had been careful to fire wide of +the cart every time. +</p> + +<p> +Muller was also thinking of the warrant which he had forged. He must get it +back somehow, even if—— +</p> + +<p> +“Let us take shelter under the shore. There is a flat place, about fifty +yards up, where the bank hangs down. This rain is drowning us. We can’t +up-saddle till it clears. I must have a nip of brandy, too. Almighty! I can see +that girl’s face still! the lightning shone on it just as I shot. Well, +she will be in heaven now, poor thing, if English people ever go to +heaven.” +</p> + +<p> +It was the Unicorn who spoke, and the Vilderbeeste made no reply, but advanced +with him to where the horses stood. They caught the patient brutes that were +waiting for their masters, their heads well down and the water streaming from +their flanks, and led them along with them. Frank Muller stood by his own horse +still thinking, and watched them vanish into the gloom. How was he to win that +warrant back without dyeing his hands even redder than they were? +</p> + +<p> +As he thought an answer came. For at that moment, accompanied by a fearful +thunderclap, there shot from the storm overhead, which had now nearly passed +away, one of those awful flashes that sometimes end an African tempest. It lit +up the scene with a light vivid as that of day, and in the white heart of it +Muller saw his two companions in crime and their horses as the great king saw +the men in the furnace. They were about forty paces from him on the crest of +the bank. He saw them, one moment erect; the next—men and horses falling +this way and that prone to the earth. Then it was dark again. +</p> + +<p> +Muller staggered with the shock, and when it had passed he rushed to the spot, +calling the men by name; but no answer came except the echo of his voice. He +was there alone now, and the moonlight began to struggle faintly through the +rain. Its pale beams lit upon two outstretched forms—one lying on its +back, its distorted features gazing up to heaven, the other on its face. By +them, the legs of the nearer sticking straight into the air, lay the horses. +They had all gone to their account. The lightning had killed them, as it kills +many a man in Africa. +</p> + +<p> +Frank Muller looked; then, forgetting about the warrant and everything else in +the horror of what he took to be a visible judgment, he rushed to his horse and +galloped wildly away, pursued by all the terrors of hell. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap24"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.<br/> +THE SHADOW OF DEATH</h2> + +<p> +The firing from the bank had ceased, and John, who still kept his head, being a +rather phlegmatic specimen of the Anglo-Saxon race, knew that, for the moment +at any rate, all danger from this source was ended. Jess lay perfectly still in +his arms, her head upon his breast. A horrible idea struck him that she might +be shot, perhaps already dead! +</p> + +<p> +“Jess, Jess,” he shouted, through the turmoil of the storm, +“are you hit?” +</p> + +<p> +She lifted her head an inch or two—“I think not,” she said. +“What is going on?” +</p> + +<p> +“God only knows, I don’t. Sit still, it will be all right.” +</p> + +<p> +But in his heart he knew it was not “all right,” and that they +stood in imminent danger of death by drowning. They were whirling down a raging +river in a cart. In a few moments it was probable that the cart would upset, +and then—— +</p> + +<p> +Presently the wheel bumped against something, the cart gave a great lurch, and +scraped along a little. +</p> + +<p> +“Now for it,” thought John, for the water was pouring over the +flooring. Then came a check, and the cart leant still farther to one side. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Crack!</i> The pole had gone, and the cart swung round bows, or rather box, +on to the stream. What had happened was this: they had drifted across a rock +that projected from the bed of the river, the force of the current having +washed the dead horses to the one side of it and the cart to the other. +Consequently they were anchored to the rock, as it were, the anchor being the +dead horses, and the cable the stout traces of untanned leather. So long as +these traces and the rest of the harness held, they were safe from drowning; +but of course they did not know this. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, they knew nothing. Above them rolled the storm; about them the river +seethed and the rain hissed. They knew nothing except that they were helpless +living atoms tossing between the wild waters and the wilder night, with +imminent death staring them in the face, around, above, and below. To and fro +they rocked, locked fast in each other’s arms, and as they swung came +that awful flash that, though they guessed it not, sent two of the murderers to +their account, and for an instant, even through the sheet of rain, illumined +the space of boiling water and the long lines of the banks on either side. It +showed the point of rock to which they were fixed, it glared upon the head of +one of the poor horses tossed up by the driving current as though it were still +trying to escape its watery doom, and revealed the form of the dead Zulu, +Mouti, lying on his face, one arm hanging over the edge of the cart and +dabbling in the water that ran level with it, in ghastly similarity to some +idle passenger in a pleasure boat, who lets his fingers slip softly through the +stream. +</p> + +<p> +In a second it was gone, and once more they were in darkness. Then by degrees +the storm passed off and the moon began to shine, feebly indeed, for the sky +was not clear washed of clouds, which still trailed along in the tracks of the +tempest, sucked after it by its mighty draught. Still it was lighter and the +rain thinned gradually till at last it stopped. The storm had rolled in majesty +down the ways of night, and there was no sound round them save the sound of +rushing water. +</p> + +<p> +“John,” said Jess presently, “can we do anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall we escape, John?” +</p> + +<p> +He hesitated. “It is in God’s hands, dear. We are in great danger. +If the cart upsets we shall be drowned. Can you swim?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, John.” +</p> + +<p> +“If we can hang on here till daylight we may get ashore, if those devils +are not there to shoot us. I do not think that our chance is a good one.” +</p> + +<p> +“John, are you afraid to die?” +</p> + +<p> +He hesitated. “I don’t know, dear. I hope to meet it like a +man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me what you truly think. Is there any hope for us at all?” +</p> + +<p> +Once more he paused, reflecting whether or no he should speak the truth. +Finally he decided to do so. +</p> + +<p> +“I can see none, Jess. If we are not drowned we are sure to be shot. They +will wait about the bank till morning, and for their own sakes they will not +dare to let us live.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not know that all which was left of two of them would indeed wait for +many a long year, while the third had fled aghast. +</p> + +<p> +“Jess, dear,” he went on, “it is of no good to tell lies. Our +lives may end any minute. Humanly speaking, they must end before the sun is +up.” +</p> + +<p> +The words were awful enough—if the reader can by an effort of imagination +throw himself for a moment into the position of these two, he will understand +how awful. +</p> + +<p> +It is a dreadful thing, when in the flow of health and youth, suddenly to be +placed face to face with the certainty of violent death, and to know that in a +few more minutes your course will have been run, and that you will have +commenced to explore a future, which may prove to be even worse, because more +enduring, than the life you are now quitting in agony. It is a dreadful thing, +as any who have ever stood in such a peril can testify, and John felt his heart +sink within him at the thought of it—for Death is very strong. But there +is one thing stronger, a woman’s perfect love, against which Death +himself cannot prevail. And so it came to pass that now as he fixed his cold +gaze upon Jess’s eyes they answered him with a strange unearthly light. +She feared not Death, so that she might meet him with her beloved. Death was +her hope and opportunity. Here she had nothing; there she might have all. The +fetters had fallen from her, struck off by an overmastering hand. Her duty was +satisfied, her trust fulfilled, and she was free—free to die with her +beloved. Ay! her love was indeed a love deeper than the grave; and now it rose +in eager strength, standing expectant upon the earth, ready, when dissolution +had lent it wings, to soar to its own predestined star. +</p> + +<p> +“You are sure, John?” she asked again. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, dear, yes. Why do you force me to repeat it? I can see no +hope.” +</p> + +<p> +Her arms were round his neck, her soft curls rested on his cheek, and the +breath from her lips played upon his brow. Indeed it was only by speaking into +each other’s ears that conversation was possible, owing to the rushing +sound of the waters. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I have something to tell you which I cannot tell unless we are +going to die. You know it, but I want to say it with my own lips before I die. +I love you, John, <i>I love you, I love you</i>; and I am glad to die because I +can die with you, and go away with you.” +</p> + +<p> +He heard, and such was the power of her love, that his, which had been put out +of mind in the terror of that hour, reawoke and took the colour of her own. He +too forgot the imminence of death in the warm presence of his down-trodden +passion. She was in his arms as he had taken her during the firing, and he bent +his head to look at her. The moonlight played upon her pallid, quivering face, +and showed that in her eyes which no man could look upon and turn away. Once +more—yes, even then—there came over him that feeling of utter +surrender to the sweet mastery of her will which had possessed him in the +sitting-room of “The Palatial.” Only all earthly considerations +having faded into nothingness now, he no longer hesitated, but pressed his lips +to hers and kissed her again and yet again. It was perhaps as wild and pathetic +a love scene as ever the old moon above has witnessed. There they clung, those +two, in the actual shadow of death experiencing the fullest and acutest joy +that our life has to offer. Nay, death was present with them, for, beneath +their very feet, half-hidden by the water, lay the stiffening corpse of the +Zulu. +</p> + +<p> +To and fro swung the cart in the rush of the swollen river, up and down beside +them the carcases of the horses rose and fell with the surge of the water, on +whose surface the broken moonbeams played and quivered. Overhead was the blue +star-sown depth through which they were waiting presently to pass, and to the +right and left the long broken outlines of the banks stretched away till at +last they appeared to grow together in the gloom. +</p> + +<p> +But they heeded none of these things; they remembered nothing except that they +had found each other’s hearts, and were happy with a wild joy it is not +often given to us to feel. The past was forgotten, the future loomed at hand, +and between the one and the other was spanned a bridge of passion made perfect +and sanctified by its approaching earthly end. Bessie was forgotten, all things +were forgotten, for they were alone with Love and Death. +</p> + +<p> +Let those who would blame them pause awhile. Why not? They had kept the faith. +They had denied themselves and run straightly down the path of duty. But the +compacts of life end with life. No man may bargain for the beyond; even the +marriage service shrinks from it. And now that hope had gone and life was at +its extremest ebb, why should they not take their joy before they passed to the +land where, perchance, such things will be forgotten? So it seemed to them; if +indeed they were any longer capable of reason. +</p> + +<p> +He looked into her eyes and she laid her head upon his heart in that mute +abandonment of worship which is sometimes to be met with in the world, and is +redeemed from vulgar passion by an indefinable quality of its own. He looked +into her eyes and was glad to have lived, ay, even to have reached this hour of +death. And she, lost in the abyss of her deep nature, sobbed out her love-laden +heart upon his breast, and called him her own, her own, her very own! +</p> + +<p> +Thus the long hours passed unheeded, till at last a new-born freshness in the +air told them that they were not far from dawn. The death they were awaiting +had not found them. It must now be very near at hand. +</p> + +<p> +“John,” she whispered in his ear, “do you think that they +will shoot us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he answered hoarsely; “they must for their own +sakes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish it were over,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she started back from his arms with a little cry, causing the cart to +rock violently. +</p> + +<p> +“I forgot,” she said; “you can swim, though I cannot. Why +should you not swim to the bank, and escape under cover of the darkness? It is +only fifty yards, and the current is not so very swift.” +</p> + +<p> +The idea of flight without Jess had never occurred to John, and now that she +suggested it, it struck him as so absurd that he broke into the ghost of a +laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be foolish, Jess,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, I will. Go! You <i>must</i> go! It does not matter about me +now. I know that you love me, and I can die happy. I will wait for you. Oh, +John! wherever I am, if I have any individual life and any remembrance I will +wait for you. Never forget that all your days. However far I may seem away, if +I live at all, I shall be waiting for you. And now go; you <i>shall</i> go, I +say. No, I will not be disobeyed. If you will not go I will throw myself into +the water. Oh, the cart is turning over!” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold on, for God’s sake!” shouted John. “The traces +have broken.” +</p> + +<p> +He was right; the tough leather was at length worn through by constant rubbing +against the rock, and the strain and sway of the dead horses on the one side, +and of the cart upon the other. Round it spun, broadside on to the current, and +immediately began to heave over, till at last the angle was so sharp that the +dead body of poor Mouti slid out with a splash and vanished into the darkness. +This relieved the cart, and it righted for a moment, but now being no longer +held up by the bodies of the horses or by the sustaining power of the wind it +began to fill and sink, and at the same time to revolve swiftly. John +understood that all was finished, and that to stop in the cart would only mean +certain death, because they would be held under water by the canvas tent. So +with a devout aspiration for assistance he seized Jess round the waist with one +arm and sprang off into the river. As he leapt the cart filled and sank. +</p> + +<p> +“Lie still, for Heaven’s sake!” he shouted, when they rose to +the surface. +</p> + +<p> +In the dim light of the dawn which was now creeping over the earth he could +discover the line of the left bank of the Vaal, the same from which they had +been driven into the river on the previous night. It appeared to be about forty +yards away, but the current was running quite six knots, and he saw that, +burdened as he was, it would be quite impracticable for him to reach it. The +only thing to do was to keep afloat. Luckily the water was warm and he was a +strong swimmer. In a minute or so he saw that about fifty paces ahead some +rocks jutted out twenty yards into the bed of the stream. Then catching Jess by +the hair with his left hand he made his effort, and a desperate one it was. The +broken water boiled furiously round the rocks. Presently he was in it, and, +better still, his feet touched the ground. Next second he was swept off them +and rolled over and over at the bottom of the river, to be sadly knocked about +against the boulders. Somehow he struggled to his legs, still retaining his +hold of Jess. Twice he fell, and twice he struggled up again. One more +effort—so. The water was only up to his thighs now, and he was obliged to +half carry his companion. +</p> + +<p> +As he lifted her he felt a deadly sickness come over him, but still he +staggered on, till at last they both fell of a heap upon a big flat rock, and +for a while he remembered no more. +</p> + +<p> +When he came to himself again it was to see Jess, who had recovered sooner than +he had, standing over him and chafing his hands. Indeed, as the sun was up he +guessed that he must have lost his senses for some time. He rose with +difficulty and shook himself. Except for some bruises he was sound enough. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you hurt?” he asked of Jess, who, pale, faint and bruised, her +hat gone, her dress torn by bullets and the rocks, and dripping water at every +step, looked an exceedingly forlorn object. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she said feebly, “not very much.” +</p> + +<p> +He sat down on the rock in the sun, for they were both shivering with cold. +“What is to be done?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Die,” she said fiercely; “I meant to die—why did you +not let me die? Ours is a position that only death can set straight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be alarmed,” he said, “your desire will soon be +gratified: those murderous villains will hunt us up presently.” +</p> + +<p> +The bed and banks of the river were clothed with thin layers of mist, but as +the sun gathered power these lifted. The spot at which they had climbed ashore +was about three hundred yards below that where the two Boers and their horses +had been destroyed by the lightning on the previous night. Seeing the mist +thin, John insisted upon Jess crouching with him behind a rock so that they +could look up and down the river without being seen themselves. Presently he +made out the forms of two horses grazing about a hundred yards away. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” he said, “I thought so; the devils have off-saddled +there. Thank Heaven I have still got my revolver, and the cartridges are +watertight. I mean to sell our lives as dearly as I can.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, John,” cried Jess, following the line of his out-stretched +hand, “those are not the Boers’ horses, they are our two leaders +that broke loose in the water. Look, their collars are still on.” +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove! so they are. Now if only we can catch them without being caught +ourselves we have a chance of getting out of this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there is no cover about, and I can’t see any signs of Boers. +They must have been sure of having killed us, and gone away,” Jess +answered. +</p> + +<p> +John looked round, and for the first time a sense of hope began to creep into +his heart. Perhaps they would survive after all. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s go up and look. It is no good stopping here; we must get +food somewhere, or we shall faint.” +</p> + +<p> +She rose without a word, and taking his hand they advanced together along the +bank. They had not gone twenty yards before John uttered an exclamation of joy +and rushed at something white that had lodged in the reeds. It was the basket +of food which was given to them by the innkeeper’s wife at Heidelberg +that had been washed out of the cart, and as the lid was fastened nothing was +lost out of it. He undid it. There was the bottle of three-star brandy +untouched, also most of the eggs, meat, and bread, the last, of course, sodden +and worthless. It did not take long to draw the cork, and then John filled a +broken wineglass there was in the basket half full of water and half of brandy, +and made Jess drink it, with the result that she began to look a little less +like a corpse. Next, he repeated the process twice on his own account, and +instantly felt as though new life were flowing into him. Then they went on +cautiously. +</p> + +<p> +The horses allowed themselves to be caught without trouble, and did not appear +to be any the worse for the adventure, although the flank of one was grazed by +a bullet. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a tree yonder where the bank shelves over; we had better tie +the horses up, dress, and eat some breakfast,” said John, almost +cheerfully; and accordingly they proceeded towards it. Suddenly John, who was +ahead, started back with an exclamation of fear, and the horses began to snort, +for there, stark and stiff in death, already swollen and discoloured by +decomposition—as is sometimes the case with people killed by +lightning—the rifles in their hands twisted and fused, their clothes cut +and blown from their bandoliers—lay the two Boer murderers. It was a +terrifying sight, and, taken in conjunction with their own remarkable escape, +one to make the most careless and sceptical reflect. +</p> + +<p> +“And yet there are people who say that there is no God, and no punishment +for wickedness,” said John aloud. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap25"></a>CHAPTER XXV.<br/> +MEANWHILE</h2> + +<p> +John, it will be remembered, left Mooifontein for Pretoria towards the end of +December, and with him went all the life and light of the place. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, Bessie,” said old Silas Croft on the evening after he had +started, “the house seems very dull without John”—a remark in +which Bessie, who was weeping secretly in the corner, heartily concurred. +</p> + +<p> +Then, a few days afterwards, came the news of the investment of Pretoria, but +no news of John. They ascertained that he had passed Standerton in safety, but +beyond that nothing could be heard of him. Day after day passed, but without +tidings, and at last, one evening, Bessie broke into a passion of hysterical +tears. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you send him for?” she asked of her uncle. “It was +ridiculous—I knew that it was ridiculous. He could not help Jess or bring +her back; the most that could happen was that they would be both shut up +together. Now he is dead—I know that those Boers have shot him—and +it is all your fault! And if he is dead I will never speak to you again.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man retreated, somewhat dismayed at this outburst, which was not at all +in Bessie’s style. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, well,” he said to himself, “that is the way of women; +they turn into tigers about a man!” +</p> + +<p> +There may have been truth in this reflection, but a tiger is not a pleasant +domestic pet, as poor old Silas discovered during the next two months. The more +Bessie thought about the matter the more incensed she grew because he had sent +her lover away. Indeed, in a little while she quite forgot that she had herself +acquiesced in his going. In short, her temper gave way completely under the +strain, so that at last her uncle scarcely dared to mention John’s name. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, things had been going as ill without as within. First of +all—that was the day after John’s departure—two or three +loyal Boers and an English store-keeper from Lake Chrissie, in New Scotland, +outspanned on the place and implored Silas Croft to fly for his life into Natal +while there was yet time. They said that the Boers would certainly shoot any +Englishman who might be sufficiently defenceless. But the old man would not +listen. +</p> + +<p> +“I am an Englishman—<i>civis Romanus sum</i>,” he said in his +sturdy fashion, “and I do not believe that they will touch me, who have +lived among them for twenty years. At any rate, I am not going to run away and +leave my place at the mercy of a pack of thieves. If they shoot me they will +have to reckon with England for the deed, so I expect that they will leave me +alone. Bessie can go if she likes, but I shall stop here and see the row +through, and there’s an end of it.” +</p> + +<p> +Whereon, Bessie having flatly declined to budge an inch, the loyalists departed +in a hurry, metaphorically wringing their hands at such an exhibition of +ill-placed confidence and insular pride. This little scene occurred at +dinner-time, and after dinner old Silas proceeded to hurl defiance at his foes +in another fashion. Going to a cupboard in his bedroom, he extracted an +exceedingly large Union Jack, and promptly advanced with it to an open spot +between two of the orange-trees in front of the house, where in such a position +that it could be seen for miles around a flagstaff was planted, formed of a +very tall young blue gum. Upon this flagstaff it was Silas’s habit to +hoist the large Union Jack on the Queen’s birthday, Christmas Day, and +other State occasions. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Jantje,” he said, when he had bent on the bunting, “run +her up, and I’ll cheer!” and accordingly, as the broad flag floated +out on the breeze, he took off his hat and waved it, and gave such a +“hip, hip, hoorah!” in his stentorian tones that Bessie ran out +from the house to see what was the matter. Nor was he satisfied with this, but, +having obtained a ladder, he placed it against the post and sent Jantje up it, +instructing him to fasten the rope on which the flag was bent at a height of +about fifteen feet from the ground, so that nobody should get at it to haul it +down. +</p> + +<p> +“There,” he said, “I’ve nailed my colours to the mast. +That will show these gentry that an Englishman lives here. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Confound their politics,<br/> +Frustrate their knavish tricks,<br/> +God save the Queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Amen,” said Bessie, but she had her doubts about the wisdom of +that Union Jack, which, whenever the wind blew, streamed out, a visible +defiance not calculated to soothe the breasts of excited patriots. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, two days after that, a patrol of three Boers, spying the ensign whilst +yet a long way off, galloped up in hot haste to see what it meant. Silas saw +them coming, and, taking his rifle in his hand, went and stood beneath the +flag, for which he had an almost superstitious veneration, feeling sure that +they would not dare to meddle either with him or it. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the meaning of this, <i>Oom</i> Silas?” asked the leader +of the three men, with all of whom he was perfectly acquainted. +</p> + +<p> +“It means that an Englishman lives here, Jan,” was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Haul the dirty rag down!” said the man. +</p> + +<p> +“I will see you damned first!” replied old Silas. +</p> + +<p> +Thereon the Boer dismounted and made for the flagstaff, only to find +“Uncle Croft’s” rifle in a direct line with his chest. +</p> + +<p> +“You will have to shoot me first, Jan,” he said, and thereon, after +some consultation, they left him and went away. +</p> + +<p> +In truth, his British nationality notwithstanding, Silas Croft was very popular +with the Boers, most of whom had known him since they were children, and to +whose <i>Volksraad</i> he had twice been elected. It was to this personal +popularity he owed the fact that he was not turned out of his house, and forced +to choose between serving against his countrymen or being imprisoned and +otherwise maltreated at the very commencement of the rebellion. +</p> + +<p> +For a fortnight or more after this flag episode nothing of any importance +happened, and then came the tidings of the crushing defeat at Laing’s +Nek. At first, Silas Croft would not believe it. “No general could have +been so mad,” he said; but soon the report was amply confirmed from +native sources. +</p> + +<p> +Another week passed, and with it came the news of the British defeat at Ingogo. +The first they heard of it was on the morning of February 8, when Jantje +brought a Kafir up to the verandah at breakfast-time. This Kafir said that he +had been watching the fight from a mountain; that the English were completely +hemmed in and fighting well, but that “their arms were tired,” and +they would all be killed at night-time. The Boers, he said, were not suffering +at all—the English could not “shoot straight.” After hearing +this they passed a sufficiently miserable day and evening. About twelve +o’clock that night, however, a native spy despatched by Mr. Croft +returned with the report that the English general had won safely back to camp, +having suffered heavily and abandoned his wounded, many of whom had died in the +rain, for the night after the battle was wet. +</p> + +<p> +Then came another long pause, during which no reliable news reached them, +though the air was thick with rumours, and old Silas was made happy by hearing +that large reinforcements were on their way from England. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Bessie, my dear, they will soon sing another song now,” he +said in great glee; “and what’s more, it’s about time they +did. I can’t understand what the soldiers have been about—I +can’t indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +And so the time wore heavily along till at last there came a dreadful day, +which Bessie will never forget so long as she lives. It was the 20th of +February—just a week before the final disaster at Majuba Hill. Bessie was +standing idly on the verandah, looking down the long avenue of blue gums, where +the shadows formed a dark network to catch the wandering rays of light. The +place looked very peaceful, and certainly no one could have known from its +appearance that a bloody war was being waged within a few miles. The Kafirs +came and went about their work as usual, or made pretence to; but now and then +a close observer might see them stop, look towards the Drakensberg, and then +say a few words to their neighbour about the wonderful thing which had come to +pass, that the Boers were beating the great white people, who came out of the +sea and shook the earth with their tread. Whereon the neighbour would take the +opportunity to relax from toil, squat down, have a pinch of snuff, and relate +in what particular collection of rocks on the hillside he and his wives slept +the last night—for when the Boers are out on commando the Kafirs will not +sleep in their huts for fear of being surprised and shot down. Then the pair +would spend half an hour or so in speculating on what would be their fate when +the Boer had eaten up the Englishman and taken back the country, and finally +come to the conclusion that they had better emigrate to Natal. +</p> + +<p> +Bessie, on the verandah, noted all this going on, every now and again catching +snatches of the lazy rascals’ talk, which chimed in but too sadly with +her own thoughts. Turning from them impatiently, she began to watch the hens +marching solemnly about the drive, followed by their broods. This picture, +also, had a sanguinary background, for under an orange-tree two rival cocks +were fighting furiously. They always did this about once a week, nor did they +cease from troubling till each retired, temporarily blinded, to the shade of a +separate orange-tree, where they spent the rest of the week in recovering, only +to emerge when the cure was effected and fight their battle over again. +Meanwhile, a third cock, young in years but old in wisdom, who steadily refused +to retaliate when attacked, looked after the hens in dispute. To-day the fray +was particularly ferocious, and, fearing that the combatants would have no eyes +left at all if she did not interfere, Bessie called to the old Boer hound who +was lying in the sun on the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +“Hi, Stomp, Stomp—hunt them, Stomp!” +</p> + +<p> +Up jumped Stomp and made a prodigious show of furiously attacking the embattled +cocks; it was an operation to which he was used, and which afforded him +constant amusement. Suddenly, however, as he dashed towards the trees, the dog +stopped midway, his simulated wrath ceased, and instead of it, an expression of +real disgust grew upon his honest face. Then the hair along his backbone stood +up like the quills upon the fretful porcupine, and he growled. +</p> + +<p> +“A strange Kafir, I expect,” said Bessie to herself. +</p> + +<p> +Stomp hated strange Kafirs. She had scarcely uttered the words before they were +justified by the appearance of a native. He was a villainous-looking fellow, +with one eye, and nothing on but a ragged pair of trousers fastened round the +middle with a greasy leather strap. In his wool, however, were stuck several +small distended bladders such as are generally worn by medicine-men and +witch-doctors. With his left hand he held a long stick, cleft at one end, and +in the cleft was a letter. +</p> + +<p> +“Come here, Stomp,” said Bessie, and as she spoke a wild hope shot +across her heart like a meteor across the night: perhaps the letter was from +John. +</p> + +<p> +The dog obeyed her unwillingly enough, for evidently he did not like that +Kafir; and when he saw that Stomp was well out of the way the Kafir himself +followed. He was an insolent fellow, and took no notice of Bessie before +squatting himself down upon the drive in front of her. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” said Bessie in Dutch, her lips trembling as she +spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“A letter,” answered the man. +</p> + +<p> +“Give it to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, missie, not till I have looked at you to see if it is right. Light +yellow hair that curls—<i>one</i>,” checking it on his fingers, +“yes, that is right; large blue eyes—<i>two</i>, that is right; big +and tall, and fair as a star—yes, the letter is for you, take it,” +and he poked the long stick almost into her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is it from?” asked Bessie, with sudden suspicion and +recoiling a step. +</p> + +<p> +“Wakkerstroom last.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is it from?” +</p> + +<p> +“Read it, and you will see.” +</p> + +<p> +Bessie took the letter, which was wrapped in a piece of old newspaper, from the +cleft of the stick and turned it over and over doubtfully. Most of us have a +mistrust of strange-looking letters, and this letter was unusually strange. To +begin with, it had no address whatever on the dirty envelope, which seemed +curious. In the second place, that envelope was sealed, apparently with a +threepenny bit. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure it is for me?” asked Bessie. +</p> + +<p> +“Yah, yah—sure, sure,” answered the native, with a rude +laugh. “There are not many such white girls in the Transvaal. I have made +no mistake. I have ‘smelt you out.’” And he began to go +through his catalogue—“Yellow hair that curls,” +&c.—again. +</p> + +<p> +Then Bessie opened the letter. Inside was an ordinary sheet of paper written +over in a bold, firm, yet slightly unpractised writing that she knew well +enough, and the sight of which filled her with a presentiment of evil. It was +Frank Muller’s. +</p> + +<p> +She turned sick and cold, but could not choose but read as follows: +</p> + +<p> +“Camp, near Pretoria. 15 February. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear Miss Bessie,—I am sorry to have to write to you, but though +we have quarrelled lately, and also your good uncle, I think it my duty to do +so, and send this to your hand by a special runner. Yesterday was a sortie made +by the poor folk in Pretoria, who are now as thin with hunger as the high veldt +oxen just before spring. Our arms were again victorious; the redcoats ran away +and left their ambulance in our hands, carrying with them many dead and +wounded. Among the dead was the Captain Niel——” +</p> + +<p> +Here Bessie uttered a sort of choking cry, and let the letter fall over the +verandah, to one of the posts of which she clung with both her hands. +</p> + +<p> +The ill-favoured native below grinned, and, picking the paper up, handed it to +her. +</p> + +<p> +She took it, feeling that she must know all, and read on like one reads in some +ghastly dream: +</p> + +<p> +“who has been staying on your uncle’s farm. I did not see him +killed myself, but Jan Vanzyl shot him, and Roi Dirk Oosthuizen, and Carolus, a +Hottentot, saw them pick him up and carry him away. They say that he was quite +dead. For this I fear you will be sorry, as I am, but it is the chance of war, +and he died fighting bravely. Make my obedient compliments to your uncle. We +parted in anger, but I hope in the new circumstances that have arisen in the +land to show him that I, for one, bear no anger.—Believe me, dear Miss +Bessie, your humble and devoted servant, +</p> + +<p> +“Frank Muller.” +</p> + +<p> +Bessie thrust the letter into the pocket of her dress, then again she caught +hold of the verandah post, and supported herself by it, while the light of the +sun appeared to fade visibly out of the day before her eyes and to replace +itself by a cold blackness in which there was no break. He was dead!—her +lover was dead! The glow had gone from her life as it seemed to be going from +the day, and she was left desolate. She had no knowledge of how long she stood +thus, staring with wide eyes at the sunshine she could not see. She had lost +her count of time; things were phantasmagorical and unreal; all that she could +realise was this one overpowering, crushing fact—John was dead! +</p> + +<p> +“Missie,” said the ill-favoured messenger below, fixing his one eye +upon her poor sorrow-stricken face, and yawning. +</p> + +<p> +There was no answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Missie,” he said again, “is there any answer? I must be +going. I want to get back in time to see the Boers take Pretoria.” +</p> + +<p> +Bessie looked at him vaguely. “Yours is a message that needs no +answer,” she said. “What is, is.” +</p> + +<p> +The brute laughed. “No, I can’t take a letter to the +Captain,” he said; “I saw Jan Vanzyl shoot him. He fell +<i>so</i>,” and suddenly he collapsed all in a heap on the path, in +imitation of a man struck dead by a bullet. “I can’t take +<i>him</i> a message, missie,” he went on, rising, “but one day you +will be able to go and look for him yourself. I did not mean that; what I meant +was that I could take a letter to Frank Muller. A live Boer is better than a +dead Englishman; and Frank Muller will make a fine husband for any girl. If you +shut your eyes you won’t know the difference.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go!” said Bessie, in a choked voice, and pointing her hands +towards the avenue. +</p> + +<p> +Such was the suppressed energy in her tone that the man sprang to his feet, and +while he rose, interpreting her gesture as an encouragement to action, the old +dog, Stomp, who had been watching him all the time, and occasionally giving +utterance to a low growl of animosity, flew straight at his throat from the +verandah. The dog, which was a heavy one, struck the man full in the chest and +knocked him backwards. Down came dog and man on the drive together, and then +ensued a terrible scene, the man cursing and shrieking and striking out at the +dog, and the dog worrying the man in a fashion that he was not liable to forget +for the remainder of his life. +</p> + +<p> +Bessie, whose energy seemed again to be exhausted, took absolutely no notice of +the fray, and it was at this juncture that her old uncle arrived upon the +scene, together with two Kafirs—the same whom Bessie had seen idling. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo! hullo!” he halloed in his stentorian tones, “what is +all this about? Get off, you brute!” and what between his voice and the +blows of the Kafirs the dog was persuaded to let go his hold of the man, who +staggered to his feet, severely mauled, and bleeding from half a dozen bites. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment he did not say anything, but picked up his sticks. Then, however, +having first made sure that the dog was being held by the Kafirs, he turned, +his face streaming with blood, his one eye blazing with fury, and, shaking both +his clenched fists at poor Bessie, broke into a scream of cursing. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall pay for this—Frank Muller shall make you pay for it. I +am his servant. I——” +</p> + +<p> +“Get out of this, however you are,” thundered old Silas, “or +by Heaven I will let the dog on you again!” and he pointed to Stomp, who +was struggling wildly with the two Kafirs. +</p> + +<p> +The man paused and looked at the dog, then, with a final shake of the fist, he +departed at a run down the avenue, turning once only to look if the dog were +coming. +</p> + +<p> +With empty eyes Bessie watched him go, taking no more notice of him than she +had of the noise of the fighting. Then, as though struck by a thought, she +turned and went into the sitting-room. +</p> + +<p> +“What is all this, Bessie?” said her uncle, following her. +“What does the man mean about Frank Muller?” +</p> + +<p> +“It means, uncle dear,” she said at last, in a voice that was +something between a sob and a laugh, “that I am a widow before I am +married. John is dead!” +</p> + +<p> +“Dead! dead!” said the old man, putting his hand to his forehead +and turning round in a dazed sort of fashion, “John dead!” +</p> + +<p> +“Read the letter,” said Bessie, handing him Frank Muller’s +missive. +</p> + +<p> +The old man took and read it. His hand shook so much that he was a long while +in mastering its contents. +</p> + +<p> +“Good God!” he said at last, “what a blow! My poor +Bessie,” and he drew her into his arms and kissed her. Suddenly a thought +struck him. “Perhaps it is all one of Frank Muller’s lies,” +he said, “or perhaps he made a mistake.” +</p> + +<p> +But Bessie did not answer. For the time, at any rate, hope had left her. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap26"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.<br/> +FRANK MULLER’S FAMILIAR</h2> + +<p> +The study of the conflicting elements which go to make up a character like that +of Frank Muller, however fascinating it might prove, is not one which can be +attempted in detail here. Such a character in its developed form is fortunately +well-nigh impossible in a highly civilised country, for the dead weight of the +law would crush it back to the level of the human mass around it. But those who +have lived in the wild places of the earth will be acquainted with its +prototypes, more especially in the countries where a handful of a superior race +rule over the dense thousands of an inferior. Solitudes are favourable to the +production of strongly marked individualities. The companionship of highly +developed men, on the contrary, whittles individualities away; the difference +between their growth being the difference between the growth of a tree on a +plain and a tree in the forest. On the plain the tree takes the innate bend of +its nature. It springs in majesty towards the skies; it spreads itself around, +or it slants along the earth, just as Nature intended that it should, and in +accordance with the power of the providential breath which bends it. In the +forest it is different. There the tree grows towards the light wherever the +light may be. Forced to modify its natural habit in obedience to the pressure +of circumstances over which it has no command, it takes such form and height as +its neighbours will allow it to, all its energies being directed to the +preservation of its life in any shape and at any sacrifice. +</p> + +<p> +Thus is it with us all. Left to ourselves, or surrounded only by the scrub of +humanity, we become outwardly that which the spirit within would fashion us to, +but, placed among our fellows, shackled by custom, restrained by law, pruned +and bent by the force of public opinion, we grow as like one to another as the +fruit bushes on a garden wall. The sharp angles of our characters are fretted +away by the friction of the crowd, and we become round, polished, and, +superficially, at any rate, identical. We no longer resemble a solitary boulder +on a plain, but are as a worked stone built into the great edifice of civilised +society. +</p> + +<p> +The place of a man like Frank Muller is at the junction of the waters of +civilisation and barbarism. Too civilised to possess those savage virtues +which, such as they are, represent the quantum of innate good Nature has +thought fit to allow in the mixture, Man; and too barbarous to be subject to +the tenderer constraints of cultivated society, he is at once strong in the +strength of both and weak in their weaknesses. Animated by the spirit of +barbarism, Superstition; and almost entirely destitute of the spirit of +civilisation, Mercy, he stands on the edge of both and an affront to both, as +terrific a moral spectacle as the world can afford. +</p> + +<p> +Had he been a little more civilised, with his power of evil trained by +education and cynical reflection to defy the attacks of those spasms of +unreasoning spiritual terror and unrestrainable passion that have their natural +dwelling-place in the raw strong mind of uncultivated man, Frank Muller might +have broken upon the world as a Napoleon. Had he been a little more savage, a +little farther removed from the unconscious but present influence of a +progressive race, he might have ground his fellows down and ruthlessly +destroyed them in the madness of his rage and lust, like an Attila or a +T’Chaka. As it was he was buffeted between two forces he did not realise, +even when they swayed him, and thus at every step in his path towards a +supremacy of evil an unseen power made stumbling-blocks of weaknesses which, if +that path had been laid along a little higher or a little lower level in the +scale of circumstances, would themselves have been deadly weapons of +overmastering force. +</p> + +<p> +See him as, with his dark heart filled up with fears, he thunders along from +that scene of midnight death and murder which his brain had not feared to plan +and his hand to execute. Onward his black horse strides, companioned by the +storm, like a dark thought travelling on the wings of Night. He does not +believe in any God, and yet the terrible fears that spring up in his soul, born +fungus-like from a few drops of blood, take shape and form, and seem to cry +aloud, “<i>We are the messengers of the avenging God</i>.” He +glances up. High on the black bosom of the storm the finger of the lightning is +writing that awful name, and again and again the voice of the thunder reads it +aloud in spirit-shaking accents. He shuts his dazed eyes, and even the falling +rhythm of his horse’s hoofs beats out, “<i>There is a God! there is +a God!</i>” from the silent earth on which they strike. +</p> + +<p> +And so, on through the tempest and the night, flying from that which no man can +leave behind. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +It was near midnight when Frank Muller drew rein at a wretched and lonely mud +hut built on the banks of the Vaal, and flanked by an equally miserable shed. +The place was silent as the grave; not even a dog barked. +</p> + +<p> +“That beast of a Kafir is not here,” he said aloud, “I will +have him flogged to death. Hendrik! Hendrik!” +</p> + +<p> +As he called, a form rose up at his very feet, causing the weary horse to start +back so violently that he almost threw his rider to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +“What in the name of the devil are you?” almost shrieked Frank +Muller, whose nerves, indeed, were in no condition to bear fresh shocks. +</p> + +<p> +“It is I, Baas,” said the form, at the same time throwing off a +grey blanket in which it was enveloped, and revealing the villainous +countenance of the one-eyed witch-doctor, who had taken the letter to Bessie. +For years this man had been Muller’s body-servant, who followed him about +like a shadow. +</p> + +<p> +“Curse you, you dog! What do you mean by hiding up like that? It is one +of your infernal tricks; be careful”—tapping his pistol +case—“or I shall one day put an end to you and your witchcraft +together.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am very sorry, Baas,” said the man in a whine, “but half +an hour ago I heard you coming. I don’t know what is the matter with the +air to-night, but it sounded as though twenty people were galloping after you. +I could hear them all quite clearly; first the big black horse, and then all +those that followed, just as though they were hunting you. So I came out and +lay down to listen, and it was not till you were quite close that one by one +the others stopped. Perhaps it was the devils who galloped.” +</p> + +<p> +“Damn you, stop that wizard’s talk,” said Muller, his teeth +chattering with fear and agitation. “Take the horse, groom and feed him +well; he has galloped far, and we start at dawn. Stop, tell me, where are the +lights and the brandy? If you have drunk the brandy I will flog you.” +</p> + +<p> +“They are on the shelf to the left as you go in, Baas, and there is flesh +too, and bread.” +</p> + +<p> +Muller swung himself from the saddle and entered the hut, pushing open the +cranky, broken-hinged door with a kick. He found the box of Tandstickor +matches, and, after one or two attempts—due chiefly to his shaking +hand—succeeded in striking fire and lighting a coarse dip such as the +Boers make out of mutton fat. Near the candle were a bottle of peach brandy two +thirds full, a tin pannikin and a jug of river water. Seizing the pannikin, he +half filled it with spirit, added a little water, and drank off the mixture. +Then he took the meat and bread from the same shelf, and, cutting some of each +with his clasp-knife, tried to eat. But he could not swallow much, and soon +gave up the attempt, consoling himself instead with the brandy. +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” he said, “the stuff tastes like hell fire;” and +he filled his pipe and sat smoking. +</p> + +<p> +Presently Hendrik came in to say that the horse was eating well, and turned to +go out again, when his master beckoned him to stop. The man was surprised, for +generally his master was not fond of his society, except when he wanted to +consult him or persuade him to exercise his pretended art of divination. The +truth was, however, that at the moment Frank Muller would have been glad to +consort with a dog. The events of the night had brought this terrible man, +steeped in iniquity from his youth up, down to the level of a child frightened +at the dark. For a while he sat in silence, the Kafir squatting on the ground +at his feet. Presently, however, the doses of powerful spirit took effect on +him, and he began to talk more unguardedly than was his custom, even with his +black “familiar” Hendrik. +</p> + +<p> +“How long have you been here?” he asked of his retainer. +</p> + +<p> +“About four days, Baas.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you take my letter to <i>Oom</i> Croft’s?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yah, Baas. I gave it to the missie.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did she do?” +</p> + +<p> +“She read it, and then stood like this, holding on to the verandah +pole;” and he opened his mouth and one eye, twisting up his hideous +countenance into a ghastly imitation of Bessie’s sorrow-stricken face, +and gripping the post that supported the hut to give verisimilitude to his +performance. +</p> + +<p> +“So she believed it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did she do, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“She set the dog on me. Look here! and here! and here!” and he +pointed to the half-healed scars left by Stomp’s sharp fangs. +</p> + +<p> +Muller laughed a little. “I should like to have seen him worry you, you +black cheat; it shows her spirit, too. I suppose you are angry, and want to +have a revenge?” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, who knows? Perhaps you shall; we are going there to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“So, Baas! I knew that before you told me.” +</p> + +<p> +“We are going there, and we are going to take the place; and we are going +to try Uncle Silas by court-martial for flying an English flag, and if he is +found guilty we are going to shoot him, Hendrik.” +</p> + +<p> +“So, Baas,” said the Kafir, rubbing his hands in glee, “but +will he be found guilty?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” murmured the white man, stroking his golden +beard; “that will depend upon what missie has to say; and upon the +verdict of the court,” he added, by way of an afterthought. +</p> + +<p> +“On the verdict of the court, ha! ha!” chuckled his wicked +satellite; “on the verdict of the court, yes! yes! and the Baas will be +president, ha! ha! One needs no witchcraft to guess that verdict. And if the +court finds Uncle Silas guilty, who will do the shooting, Baas?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not thought of that; the time has not come to think of it. It +does not matter; anybody can carry out the sentence of the law.” +</p> + +<p> +“Baas,” said the Kafir, “I have done much for you, and had +little pay. I have done ugly things. I have read omens and made medicines and +‘smelt out’ your enemies. Will you grant me a favour? Will you let +me shoot <i>Oom</i> Croft if the court finds him guilty? It is not much to ask, +Baas. I am a clever wizard and deserve my pay.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you want to shoot him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because he flogged me once, years ago, for being a witch-doctor, and the +other day he hunted me off the place. Beside, it is nice to shoot a white man. +I should like it better,” he went on, with a smack of the lips, “if +it were missie, who set the dog on me. I would——” +</p> + +<p> +In a moment Muller had seized the astonished ruffian by the throat, and was +kicking and shaking him as though he were a toy. His brutal talk of Bessie +appealed to such manliness as he had in him, and, whatever his own wickedness +may have been, he was too madly in love with the woman to let her name be taken +in vain by a man whom, though he held his “magic” in superstitious +reverence, he yet ranked lower than a dog. With his nerves strung to the +highest possible state of tension, and half drunk as he was, Frank Muller was +no more to be played with or irritated than is a mad bull. +</p> + +<p> +“You black beast!” he yelled, “if ever you dare to mention +her name again like that I will kill you, for all your witchcraft;” and +he hurled him with such force against the wall of the hut that the whole place +shook. The man fell and lay for a moment groaning; then he crept from the hut +on his hands and knees. +</p> + +<p> +Muller sat scowling from under his bent brows, and watched him go. When he was +gone, he rose and fastened the door behind him, then suddenly he burst into +tears, the result, no doubt, of the mingled effects of drink, mental and +physical exhaustion, and the never-resting passion—one can scarcely call +it love—which ate at his heart, like the worm that dieth not. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Bessie, Bessie!” he groaned, “I have done it all for +you. Surely you cannot be angry when I have killed them all for you? Oh, my +darling, my darling! If you only knew how I love you! Oh, my darling, my +darling!” and in an agony of passion he flung himself on to the rough +pallet in the corner of the hut and sobbed himself to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +It would seem that Frank Muller’s evil-doing did not make him happy, the +truth being that to enjoy wickedness a man must be not only without conscience, +but also without passion. Now Frank Muller was tormented with a very effective +substitute for the first—superstition, and by the latter his life was +overshadowed, since the beauty of a girl possessed the power to dominate his +wildest moods and to inflict upon him torments that she herself was incapable +even of imagining. +</p> + +<p> +At the first light of dawn Hendrik crept humbly into the hut to wake his +master, and within half an hour they were across the Vaal and on the road to +Wakkerstroom. +</p> + +<p> +As the light increased so did Muller’s spirits rise, till at last, when +the red sun came up in glory and swept away the shadows, he felt as though all +the load of guilt and fear that lay upon his heart had departed with them. He +could see now that the death of the two Boers by lightning was a mere +accident—a happy accident, indeed; for, had it not so chanced, he would +have been forced to kill them himself, if he could not have obtained possession +of the warrant by other means. As it was, he had forgotten about this document; +but it did not matter much, he reflected. Nobody would be likely to find the +bodies of the two men and horses under that lonely bank. Certainly they would +not be found before the <i>aasvogels</i> had picked them clean, and these would +be at work upon them now. And if they were found, the paper would have rotted +or been blown away, or, at the worst, rendered so discoloured as to be +unreadable. For the rest, there was nothing to connect him with the murder, now +that his confederates were dead. Hendrik would prove an alibi for him. He was a +useful man, Hendrik. Besides, who would believe that it was a murder? Two men +were escorting an Englishman to the river; they became involved in a quarrel; +the Englishman shot them, and they shot the Englishman and his companion. Then +the horses plunged into the Vaal upsetting the cart, and there was an end of +it. He could see now how well things had gone for him. Events had placed him +beyond suspicion. +</p> + +<p> +Then he fell to thinking of the fruits of his honest labours, and +Muller’s cheek grew warm with the mounting blood, and his eyes flashed +with the fire of youth. In two days—forty-eight hours—at the +outside, Bessie would be in his arms. He could not miscarry now, for was he not +in absolute command? Besides, Hendrik had read it in his omens long ago.[*] +Mooifontein should be stormed on the morrow, if that were necessary, and +<i>Oom</i> Silas Croft and Bessie should be taken prisoners; and then he knew +how to deal with them. His talk about shooting on the previous night had been +no idle threat. She should yield herself to him, or the old man must die, and +then he would take her. There could be no legal consequences now that the +British Government was in the act of surrender. It would be a meritorious deed +to execute a rebel Englishman. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] It is not a very rare thing to meet white men in South Africa who believe +more or less in the efficacy of native witchcraft, and, although such a +proceeding is forbidden by law, who at a pinch will not hesitate to consult the +witch-doctors.—Author. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, it was all plain sailing now. How long had it needed to win +her—three years? He had loved her for three years. Well, he would have +his reward; and then, his passion satisfied, he would turn his mind to those +far-reaching, ambitious schemes, whereof the end was something like a throne. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap27"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.<br/> +SILAS IS CONVINCED</h2> + +<p> +At first Bessie was utterly prostrated by the blow that had fallen on her, but +as time went on she revived a little, for hers was an elastic and a sanguine +nature. Troubles sink into the souls of some like water into a sponge, and +weight them down almost to the grave. From others they run off as the water +does if poured upon marble, merely wetting the surface. +</p> + +<p> +Bessie belonged to neither of these classes, but was of a substance between the +two—a healthy, happy-hearted woman, full of beauty and vigour, made to +bloom in the sunshine, not to languish in the shadow of some old grief. Women +of her stamp do not die of broken hearts or condemn themselves to life-long +celibacy as a sacrifice to the shade of the departed. If unfortunately No. 1 is +removed, as a general rule they shed many a tear and suffer many a pang, and +after a decent interval very sensibly turn their attention to No. 2. +</p> + +<p> +Still it was but a pale-faced, quiet Bessie who went to and fro about the place +after the visit of the one-eyed Kafir. All her irritability had left her now; +she no longer reproached her uncle because he had despatched John to Pretoria. +Indeed, on that very evening after the evil tidings came, he began to blame +himself bitterly in her presence for having sent her lover away, when she +stopped him. +</p> + +<p> +“It is God’s will, uncle,” she said quietly. “You only +did what it was ordained that you should do.” Then she came and laid her +sunny head upon the old man’s shoulder and cried a little, and said that +they two were all alone in the world now; and he comforted her in the best +fashion that he could. It was a curious thing that they neither of them thought +much of Jess when they talked thus of being alone. Jess was an enigma, a thing +apart even from them. When she was there she was loved and allowed to go her +own way, when she was not there she seemed to fade into outer darkness. A veil +came down between her and her belongings. Of course they were both very fond of +her, but simple-natured people are apt to shrink from what they cannot +understand, and these two were no exception to the rule. For instance, +Bessie’s affection for her sister was a poor thing compared to the deep +and self-sacrificing, though often secret love that her sister showered upon +her. She loved her old uncle far more dearly than she loved Jess, and it must +be owned that he returned her attachment with interest, and in those days of +heavy trouble they drew nearer to each other than ever they were before. +</p> + +<p> +But as time went on they began to hope again. No confirmation of John’s +death reached them. Was it not possible then, after all, that the story was an +invention? They knew that Frank Muller was not a man to hesitate at a lie if he +had a purpose to gain, and they could guess in this case what that purpose was. +His furious passion for Bessie was no secret from either of them, and it +occurred to them as possible that the tale of John’s death might have +been invented to forward it. This was scarcely probable, it is true, but it +might be so, and however cruel suspense may be, it is at least less absolutely +crushing than the dead weight of certainty. +</p> + +<p> +One Sunday—it was just a week since the letter came—Bessie was +sitting after dinner on the verandah, when her quick ears caught what she took +to be the booming of heavy guns far away on the Drakensberg. She rose, and +leaving the house, climbed the hill behind it. On reaching its top she stood +and looked at the great solemn stretch of mountains. Away, a little to her +right, was a square precipitous peak called Majuba, which was generally clothed +in clouds. To-day, however, there was no mist, and it seemed to her that it was +from the direction of this peak that the faint rolling sounds came floating on +the breeze. But she could see nothing; the mountain seemed as tenantless and +devoid of life as on the day when it first towered up upon the face of things +created. Presently the sounds died away, and she returned, thinking that she +must have been deceived by the echoes of some distant thunderstorm. +</p> + +<p> +Next day they learnt from the natives that what she had heard was the roar of +the big guns covering the flight of the British troops down the precipitous +sides of Majuba Mountain. After these tidings old Silas Croft began to lose +heart a little. The run of disaster was so unrelieved that even his robust +faith in the invincibility of the English arms was shaken. +</p> + +<p> +“It is very strange, Bessie,” he said, “very strange; but, +never mind, it is bound to come right at last. Our Government is not going to +knock under because it has suffered a few reverses.” +</p> + +<p> +Then followed a long four weeks of uncertainty. The air was thick with rumours, +most of them brought by natives, and one or two by passing Boers, to which +Silas Croft declined to pay any attention. Soon, however, it became abundantly +clear that an armistice was concluded between the English and the Boers, but +what were its terms or its object they were quite unable to decide. Silas Croft +thought that the Boers, overawed by the advance of an overwhelming force, meant +to give in without further fighting;[*] but Bessie shook her head. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] This is said on good authority to have been their intention had not Mr. +Gladstone surprised them by his sudden surrender.—Author. +</p> + +<p> +One day—it was the same on which John and Jess left Pretoria—a +Kafir brought the news that the armistice was at an end, that the English were +advancing up to the Nek in thousands, and were going to force it on the morrow +and relieve the garrisons—a piece of intelligence that brought some of +the old light back to Bessie’s eyes. As for her uncle, he was jubilant. +</p> + +<p> +“The tide is going to turn, at last, my love,” he said, “and +we shall have our innings. Well, it is time we should, after all the disgrace, +loss and agony of mind we have gone through. Upon my word, for the last two +months I have been ashamed to call myself an Englishman. However, there is an +end of it now. I knew that they would never give in and desert us,” and +the old man straightened his crooked back and slapped his chest, looking as +proud and gallant as though he were five-and-twenty instead of seventy years of +age. +</p> + +<p> +The rest of that day passed without any further news, and so did the following +two days, but on the third, which was March 23, the storm broke. +</p> + +<p> +About eleven o’clock in the forenoon Bessie was employed upon her +household duties as usual, or rather she had just finished them. Her uncle had +returned from his usual after-breakfast round upon the farm, and was standing +in the sitting-room, his broad felt hat in one hand and a red +pocket-handkerchief in the other, with which he was polishing his bald head, +while he chattered to Bessie through the open door. +</p> + +<p> +“No news of the advance, Bessie dear?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, uncle,” she replied with a sigh, her blue eyes filling with +tears, for she was thinking of one of whom there was also no news. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, never mind. These things take a little time, especially with our +soldiers, who move so slowly. I dare say that there was some delay waiting for +guns or ammunition or something. I expect that we shall hear by +to-night——” +</p> + +<p> +“De Booren, Baas, de Booren!” (the Boers, master, the Boers) he +shouted. “The Boers are coming with a waggon, twenty of them or more, +with Frank Muller at their head on his black horse, and Hans Coetzee, and the +one-eyed Basutu wizard with him. I was hiding behind a tree at the end of the +avenue, and I saw them riding over the rise. They are going to take the +place;” and, without waiting to give any further explanations, he slipped +through the house and hid himself up somewhere out of the way at the back, for +Jantje, like most Hottentots, was a sad coward. +</p> + +<p> +The old man stopped rubbing his head and stared at Bessie, who stood pale and +trembling in the doorway. Just then he heard the patter of running feet on the +drive outside, and looked out of the window. It was caused by the passing of +some half-dozen Kafirs who were working on the place, and who, on catching +sight of the Boers, had promptly thrown down their tools and were flying to the +hills. Even as they passed a shot was fired somewhere from the direction of the +avenue, and the last of the Kafirs, a lad of about twelve, suddenly threw up +his hands and pitched forward on to his face, with a bullet between his +shoulder-blades. +</p> + +<p> +Bessie heard the shout of “Good shot, good shot!” the brutal +laughter that greeted his fall, and the tramping of the horses as they came up +the drive. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, uncle!” she said, “what shall we do?” +</p> + +<p> +The old man made no answer at the moment, but going to a rack upon the wall, he +reached down a Wesley-Richards falling-block rifle that hung there. Then he sat +down in a wooden armchair that faced the French window opening on to the +verandah, and beckoned to her to come to him. +</p> + +<p> +“We will meet them so,” he said. “They shall see that we are +not afraid of them. Don’t be frightened, dear, they will not dare to harm +us; they will be afraid of the consequences of harming English people.” +</p> + +<p> +The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the cavalcade began to appear in +front of the window, led, as Jantje had said, by Frank Muller on his black +horse, accompanied by Hans Coetzee on the fat pony, and the villainous-looking +Hendrik, mounted on a nondescript sort of animal, and carrying a gun and an +assegai in his hand. Behind these were a body of about fifteen or sixteen armed +men, among whom Silas Croft recognised most of his neighbours, by whose side he +had lived for years in peace and amity. +</p> + +<p> +Opposite the house they stopped and began looking about. They could not see +into the room at once, on account of the bright light outside and the shadow +within. +</p> + +<p> +“I fancy you will find the birds flown, nephew,” said the fat voice +of Hans Coetzee. “They have got warning of your little visit.” +</p> + +<p> +“They cannot be far off,” answered Muller. “I have had them +watched, and know that they have not left the place. Get down, uncle, and look +in the house, and you too, Hendrik.” +</p> + +<p> +The Kafir obeyed with alacrity, tumbling out of his saddle with all the grace +of a sack of coals, but the Boer hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Uncle Silas is an angry man,” he ventured; “he might shoot +if he found me poking about his house.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t answer me!” thundered Muller; “get down and do +as I bid you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, what a devil of a man!” murmured the unfortunate Hans as he +hurried to obey. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, Hendrik the one-eyed had jumped upon the verandah and was peering +through the windows. +</p> + +<p> +“Here they are, Baas; here they are!” he sung out; “the old +cock and the pullet too!” and he gave a kick to the window, which, being +unlatched, swung wide, revealing the old man sitting in his wooden armchair, +his rifle on his knees, and holding by the hand his fair-haired niece, who was +standing at his side. Frank Muller dismounted and came on to the verandah, and +behind him crowded a dozen or more of his followers. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it that you want, Frank Muller, that you come to my house with +all these armed men?” asked Silas Croft from his chair. +</p> + +<p> +“I call upon you, Silas Croft, to surrender to take your trial as a land +betrayer and a rebel against the Republic,” was the answer. “I am +sorry,” he added, with a bow towards Bessie, on whom his eyes had been +fixed all the time, “to be obliged to take you prisoner in the presence +of a lady, but my duty gives me no choice.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know what you mean,” said the old man. “I am a +subject of Queen Victoria and an Englishman. How, then, can I be a rebel +against any republic? I am an Englishman, I say,” he went on with rising +anger, speaking so high that his powerful voice rang till every Boer there +could hear it, “and I acknowledge the authority of no republics. This is +my house, and I order you to leave it. I claim my rights as an +Englishman——” +</p> + +<p> +“Here,” interrupted Muller coldly, “Englishmen have no +rights, except such as we choose to allow to them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shoot him!” cried a voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Treat him as Buskes treated Van der Linden at Potchefstroom!” +cried another. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, make him swallow the same pill that we gave to Dr. Barber,” +put in a third. +</p> + +<p> +“Silas Croft, are you going to surrender?” asked Muller in the same +cold voice. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>No!</i>” thundered the old man in his English pride. “I +surrender to no rebels in arms against the Queen. I will shoot the first man +who tries to lay a finger on me!” and he rose to his feet and lifted his +rifle. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I shoot him, Baas?—shall I shoot him?” asked the +one-eyed Hendrik, smacking his lips at the thought, and fiddling with the rusty +lock of the old fowling-piece he carried. +</p> + +<p> +Muller, by way of answer, struck him across the face with the back of his hand. +“Hans Coetzee,” he said, “go and arrest that man.” +</p> + +<p> +Poor Hans hesitated, as well he might. Nature had not endowed him with any +great amount of natural courage, and the sight of his old neighbour’s +rifle-barrel made him feel positively sick. He hesitated and began to stammer +excuses. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going, uncle, or must I denounce you to the General as a +sympathiser with Englishmen?” asked Muller in malice, for he knew the old +fellow’s weakness and cowardice, and was playing on them. +</p> + +<p> +“I am going. Of course I am going, nephew. Excuse me, a little faintness +took me—the heat of the sun,” he babbled. “Oh, yes, I am +going to seize the rebel. Perhaps one of these young men would not mind +engaging his attention on the other side. He is an angry man—I know him +of old—and an angry man with a gun, you know, dear +cousin——” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going?” said his terrible master once more. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes! yes, certainly, yes. Dear Uncle Silas, pray put down that gun, +it is so dangerous. Don’t stand there looking like a wild ox, but come up +to the yoke. You are old, Uncle Silas, and I don’t want to have to hurt +you. Come now, come, come,” and he held out his hand towards him as +though he were a shy horse that he was endeavouring to beguile. +</p> + +<p> +“Hans Coetzee, traitor and liar that you are,” said the old man, +“if you draw a single step nearer, by God! I will put a bullet through +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go on, Hans, chuck a reim over his head; get him by the tail; knock him +down with a yokeskei; turn the old bull on his back!” shouted the crowd +of scoffers from the window, taking very good care, however, to clear off to +the right and left in order to leave room for the expected bullet. +</p> + +<p> +Hans positively burst into tears, and Muller, who was the only one who held his +ground, caught him by the arm, and putting out all his strength, swung him +towards Silas Croft. +</p> + +<p> +For reasons of his own, he was anxious that the latter should shoot one of +them, and he chose Hans Coetzee, whom he disliked and despised, for the +sacrifice. +</p> + +<p> +Up went the rifle, and at that moment Bessie, who had been standing bewildered, +made a dash at it, knowing that bloodshed could only make matters worse. As she +did so it exploded, but not before she had shaken her uncle’s arm, for, +instead of killing Hans, as it undoubtedly would have done, the bullet only cut +his ear and then passed out through the open window-place. In an instant the +room was filled with smoke. Hans Coetzee clapped his hand to his head, uttering +yells of pain and terror, and in the confusion that ensued three or four men, +headed by the Kafir Hendrik, rushed into the room and sprang upon Silas Croft, +who had retreated to the wall and was standing with his back against it, his +rifle, which he had clubbed in both his hands, raised above his head. +</p> + +<p> +When his assailants were close to him they hesitated, for, aged and bent as he +was, the old man looked dangerous. He stood there like a wounded lion, and +swung the rifle-stock about. Presently one of the men struck at him and missed +him, but before he could retreat Silas brought down the stock of the rifle on +his head, and down he went like an ox beneath a poleaxe. Then they closed on +him, but for a while he kept them off, knocking down another man in his +efforts. At that moment the witch-doctor Hendrik, who had been watching his +opportunity, brought down the barrel of his old fowling-piece upon +Silas’s bald head and felled him. Fortunately the blow was not a very +heavy one, or it would have broken his skull. As it was, it only cut his scalp +open and knocked him down. Thereon, the whole mass of Boers, with the exception +of Muller, who stood watching, seeing that he was now defenceless, fell upon +Silas, and would have kicked him to death had not Bessie precipitated herself +upon him with a cry, and thrown her arms about his body to protect him. +</p> + +<p> +Then Frank Muller interfered, fearing lest she should be hurt. Plunging into +the fray with a curse, he exercised his great strength, throwing the men this +way and that like ninepins, and finally dragging Silas to his feet again. +</p> + +<p> +“Come!” he shouted, “take him out of this;” and +accordingly, with taunts, curses and obloquy, the poor old man, whose fringe of +white locks was red with blood, was kicked and pushed on to the verandah, then +off it on to the drive. Here he fell over the body of the murdered Kafir boy, +but finally he was dragged to the open space by the flagstaff, on which the +Union Jack that he had hoisted there some two months before still waved bravely +in the breeze. There he sank down upon the grass, his back against the +flagstaff, and asked faintly for some water. Bessie, who was weeping bitterly, +and whose heart felt as though it were bursting with anguish and indignation, +pushed her way through the men, and, running to the house, filled a glass and +brought it to him. One of the brutes tried to knock it out of her hand, but she +avoided him and gave it to her uncle, who drank it greedily. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, love, thank you,” he said; “don’t be +frightened, I ain’t much hurt. Ah! if only John had been here, and we had +had an hour’s notice, we would have held the place against them +all.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile one of the Boers, climbing on to the shoulders of another, had +succeeded in untying the cord on which the Union Jack was bent, and hauled it +down. Then they reversed it and hoisted it half-mast high, and began to cheer +for the Republic. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps Uncle Silas does not know that we are a Republic again +now,” said one of the men, a near neighbour of his own, in mockery. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean by a Republic?” asked the old man. “The +Transvaal is a British colony.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a hoot of derision at this. “The English Government has +surrendered,” said the same man. “The country is given up, and the +British are to evacuate it in six months.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a lie!” said Silas, springing to his feet, “a cowardly +lie! Whoever says that the English have given up the country to a few thousand +blackguards like you, and deserted its subjects and the loyals and the natives, +is a liar—a liar from hell!” +</p> + +<p> +There was another howl of mockery at this outburst, and when it had subsided +Frank Muller stepped forward. +</p> + +<p> +“It is no lie, Silas Croft,” he said, “and the cowards are +not we Boers, who have beaten you again and again, but your soldiers, who have +done nothing but run away, and your Mr. Gladstone, who follows the example of +your soldiers. Look here”—and he took a paper out of his +pocket—“you know that signature, I suppose? It is that of one of +the Triumvirate. Listen to what he says,” and he read aloud:— +</p> + +<p> +“‘Well-beloved <i>Heer</i> Muller,—this is to inform you +that, by the strength of our arms fighting for the right and freedom, and also +by the cowardice of the British Government, generals, and soldiers, we have by +the will of the Almighty concluded this day a glorious peace with the enemy. +The <i>Heer</i> Gladstone surrenders nearly everything except in the name. The +Republic is to be re-established, and the soldiers who are left will leave the +land within six months. Make this known to everyone, and forget not to thank +God for our glorious victories.’” +</p> + +<p> +The Boers shouted aloud, as well they might, and Bessie wrung her hands. As for +the old man, he leant against the flagstaff, and his gory head sank back upon +his breast as though he were about to faint. Then suddenly he lifted it, and +with clenched and quivering fists, held high in the air, he broke out into such +a torrent of blasphemy and cursing that even the Boers fell back for a moment, +dismayed into silence by the force of the fury wrung from his utter +humiliation. +</p> + +<p> +It was an appalling sight to see this good and God-fearing old man, his face +bruised, his grey hairs dabbled with blood, and his clothes nearly rent from +his body, stamp and reel to and fro, blaspheming his Maker and the day that he +was born; hurling execrations at his beloved country and the name of +Englishman, and the Government of Britain that had deserted him, till at last +nature gave out, and he fell in a fit, there, in the very shadow of his +dishonoured flag. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap28"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.<br/> +BESSIE IS PUT TO THE QUESTION</h2> + +<p> +Meanwhile another little tragedy was being enacted at the back of the house. +After the one-eyed witch-doctor Hendrik had knocked Silas Croft down and +assisted in the pleasing operation of dragging him to the flagstaff, it +occurred to his villainous heart that the present would be a good opportunity +to profit personally by the confusion, and possibly add to the +Englishman’s misfortunes by doing him some injury on his own account. +Accordingly, just before Frank Muller began to read the despatch announcing the +British surrender, he slipped away into the house, which was now totally +deserted, to see what he could steal. Passing into the sitting-room, he annexed +Bessie’s gold watch and chain, which was lying on the mantelpiece, a +present that her uncle had made her on the Christmas Day before the last. +Having pocketed this he proceeded to the kitchen, where, lying on the dresser +ready to put away, there was a goodly store of silver forks and spoons which +Bessie had been busily engaged in cleaning that morning. These he also +transferred, to the extent of several dozens, to the capacious pockets of the +tattered military great-coat that he wore. Whilst thus employed he was much +disturbed by the barking of the dog Stomp, the same animal that had mauled him +so severely a few weeks before, and was now, as it happened, tied up in his +kennel—an old wine barrel—just outside the kitchen door. Hendrik +peeped out of the window, and having ascertained that the dog was secured, he +proceeded, with a diabolical chuckle, to settle his account with the poor +animal. He had left his gun behind on the grass, but he still held his assegai +in his hand, and going out of the kitchen door with it, he showed himself +within a few feet of the kennel. The dog recognised him instantly, and went +nearly mad with fury, making the most desperate efforts to break its chain and +get at him. For some moments he stood exciting the animal by derisive gestures +and pelting it with stones, till at last, fearing that the clamour would +attract attention, he suddenly transfixed it with his spear, and then, thinking +he was quite unobserved, sat down, snuffed and enjoyed the luxury of watching +the poor beast’s last agonies. +</p> + +<p> +But, as it happened, he was not quite alone, for, creeping along in the grass +and rubbish that grew on the farther side of the wall, his brown body squeezed +tightly against the brown stones—so tightly that an unpractised eye would +certainly have failed to notice it at a distance of a dozen paces—was the +Hottentot Jantje. Occasionally, too, he would lift his head above the level of +the wall and observe the proceedings of the one-eyed man. Apparently he was +undecided what to do, for he hesitated a little, and whilst he did so Hendrik +killed the dog. +</p> + +<p> +Now Jantje had all a Hottentot’s natural love for animals, which is, +generally speaking, as marked as is the Kafir’s callousness towards them, +and he was particularly fond of the dog Stomp, which always went out with him +those rare occasions when he thought it safe or desirable to walk like an +ordinary man instead of wriggling from bush to bush like a panther, or +wriggling through the grass like a snake. The sight of the animal’s +death, therefore, raised in his yellow breast a very keen desire for vengeance +on the murderer, if vengeance could be safely accomplished; and he paused to +reflect how this might be done. As he thought Hendrik rose, gave the dead dog a +kick, withdrew his assegai from the carcase, and then, as though struck by a +sudden desire to conceal the murder, he undid the collar and, lifting the dog +in his arms, carried him with difficulty into the house and laid him under the +kitchen-table. This done, he came out again to the wall, which was built of +unmortared stones, pulled one out without trouble, deposited the watch and the +silver he had stolen in the cavity, and replaced the stone. Next, before Jantje +could guess what he meant to do, he proceeded to make it practically impossible +for his robbery to be discovered, or at any rate very improbable, by lighting a +match, and, having first glanced round to see that nobody was looking, reaching +up and applying it to the thick thatch wherewith the house itself was roofed, +the fringe of which just at this spot was not more than nine feet from the +ground. No rain had fallen at Mooifontein for several days, and there had been +a hot sun with wind. As a result the thatch was dry as tinder. The light caught +in a second, and in two more a thin line of fire was running up the roof. +</p> + +<p> +Hendrik paused, stepped a few paces back, resting his shoulders against the +wall, immediately the other side of which was Jantje, and began to chuckle +aloud and rub his hands as he admired the results of his labours. This proved +too much for the Hottentot behind him. The provocation was overmastering, and +so was the opportunity. Jantje carried with him the thick stick on which he was +so fond of cutting notches. Raising it in both hands be brought the heavy knob +down with all his strength upon the one-eyed villain’s unprotected skull. +It was a thick skull, but the knob prevailed against it, and fractured it, and +down went the estimable witch-doctor as though he were dead. +</p> + +<p> +Next, taking a leaf out of his fallen enemy’s book, Jantje slipped over +the wall, and, seizing the senseless man, he dragged him by one arm into the +kitchen and rolled him under the table to keep company with the dead dog. Then, +filled with a fearful joy, he crawled out, to a point of vantage in a little +plantation seventy or eighty yards to the right of the house, whence he could +see what the Boers were doing and watch the conflagration that he knew must +ensue, for the fire had taken instant and irremediable hold. +</p> + +<p> +Ten minutes or so afterwards that amiable character Hendrik partially regained +his senses, to find himself surrounded by a sea of fire, in which he perished +miserably, not having power to move, and his feeble cries being totally +swallowed up and lost in the fierce roaring of the flames. Such was the very +appropriate end of Hendrik and of the magic of Hendrik. +</p> + +<p> +Down by the flagstaff the old man lay in his fit, while Bessie tended him and a +posse of Boers stood round, smoking and laughing or lounging about with an air +of lordly superiority, well worthy of victors in possession. +</p> + +<p> +“Will none of you help me to take him to the house?” she cried. +“Surely you have ill treated an old man enough.” +</p> + +<p> +Nobody stirred, not even Frank Muller, who was gazing at her tear-stained face +with a fierce smile playing round the corners of his clean-cut mouth, which his +beard was trimmed to show. +</p> + +<p> +“It will pass, Miss Bessie,” he said; “it will pass. I have +often seen such fits. They come from too much excitement, or too much +drink——” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he broke off with an exclamation, and pointed to the house, from the +roof of which pale curls of blue smoke were rising. +</p> + +<p> +“Who has fired the house?” he shouted. “By Heaven! I will +shoot the man.” +</p> + +<p> +The Boers wheeled round staring in astonishment, and as they gazed the +tinderlike roof burst into a red sheet of flame that grew and gathered breadth +and height with an almost marvellous rapidity. Just then, too, a light breeze +sprang up from over the hill at the rear of the house, as it sometimes did at +this time of the day, and bent the flames over towards them in an immense arch +of fire, so that the fumes and heat and smoke began to beat upon their faces. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the house is burning down!” cried Bessie, utterly bewildered +by this new misfortune. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, you!” shouted Muller to the gaping Boers, “go and see +if anything can be saved. Phew! we must get out of this,” and, stooping +down, he lifted Silas Croft in his arms and walked away with him, followed by +Bessie, towards the plantation on their left, the same spot where Jantje had +taken refuge. In the centre of this plantation was a little glade surrounded by +young orange and blue-gum trees. Here he laid the old man down upon a bed of +dead leaves and soft springing grass, and then hurried away without a word to +the fire, only to find that the house was already utterly unapproachable. Such +was the rapidity with which the flames did their work upon the mass of dry +straw and the wooden roof and floorings beneath, that in fifteen minutes the +whole of the interior of the house was a glowing incandescent pile, and in half +an hour it was completely gutted, nothing being left standing but the massive +outer walls of stone, over which a dense column of smoke hung like a pall. +Mooifontein was a blackened ruin; only the stables and outhouses, which were +roofed with galvanised iron, remained uninjured. +</p> + +<p> +Frank Muller had not been gone five minutes when, to Bessie’s joy, her +uncle opened his eyes and sat up. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it? what is it?” he said. “Ah! I recollect. What is +all this smell of fire? Surely they have not burnt the place?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, uncle,” sobbed Bessie, “they have.” +</p> + +<p> +Silas groaned aloud. “It took me ten years to build, bit by bit, almost +stone by stone, and now they have destroyed it. Well, why not? God’s will +be done. Give me your arm, love; I want to get to the water. I feel faint and +sick.” +</p> + +<p> +She did as he bade her, sobbing bitterly. Within fifteen yards, on the edge of +the plantation, was a little <i>spruit</i> or runnel of water, and of this he +drank copiously, and bathed his wounded head and face. +</p> + +<p> +“There, love,” he said, “don’t fret; I feel quite +myself again. I fear I made a fool of myself. I haven’t learnt to bear +misfortune and dishonour as I should yet, and, like Job, I felt as though God +had forsaken us. But, as I said, His will be done. What is the next move, I +wonder? Ah! we shall soon know, for here comes our friend Frank Muller.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad to see that you have recovered, uncle,” said Muller +politely, “and I am sorry to have to tell you that the house is beyond +help. Believe me, if I knew who fired it I would shoot him. It was not my wish +or intention that the property should be destroyed.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man merely bowed his head and made no answer. His fiery spirit seemed +to be crushed out of him. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it your pleasure that we should do, sir?” said Bessie at +last. “Perhaps, now that we are ruined, you will allow us to go to Natal, +which, I suppose, is still an English country?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Miss Bessie, Natal is still English—for the present; soon it +will be Dutch; but I am sorry that I cannot let you go there now. My orders are +to keep you both prisoners and to try your uncle by court-martial. The +waggon-house,” he went on quickly, “with the two little rooms on +each side of it, have not been touched by the fire. They shall be made ready +for you, and as soon as the heat is less you can go there;” and, turning +to his men who had followed him, he gave some rapid orders, which two of them +departed to carry out. +</p> + +<p> +Still the old man made no comment; he did not even seem indignant or surprised; +but poor Bessie was utterly prostrated, and stood helpless, not knowing what to +say to this terrible, remorseless man, who stood so calm and unmoved before +them. +</p> + +<p> +Frank Muller paused awhile to think, stroking his golden beard, then he turned +again and addressed the two other men who stood behind him. +</p> + +<p> +“You will keep guard over the prisoner,” indicating Silas Croft, +“and suffer none to communicate with him by word or sign. As soon as it +is is ready you will place him in the little room to the left of the +waggon-house, and see that he is supplied with all he wants. If he escapes or +converses, or is ill treated, I will hold you responsible. Do you +understand?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yah, <i>Meinheer</i>,” was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Very good; be careful you do not forget. And now, Miss Bessie, I shall +be glad if you can give me a word alone——” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Bessie; “no, I will not leave my uncle.” +</p> + +<p> +“I fear you will have to do that,” he said, with his cold smile. +“I beg you to think again. It will be very much to your advantage to +speak to me, and to your uncle’s advantage also. I should advise you to +come.” +</p> + +<p> +Bessie hesitated. She hated and mistrusted the man, as she had good reason to +do, and feared to trust herself alone with him. +</p> + +<p> +While she still hesitated, the two Boers, under whose watch and ward Muller had +placed her uncle, advanced and stood between him and her, cutting her off from +him. Muller turned and walked a few paces—ten or so—to the right, +and in desperation she followed him. He halted behind a bushy orange-tree of +some eight years’ growth. Overtaking him, she stood silent, waiting for +him to begin. They were quite close to the others, but the roaring of the +flames of the burning house was still sufficiently loud to have drowned a much +more audible conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it you have to say to me?” she said at length, pressing +her hand against her heart to still its beating. Her woman’s instinct +told her what was coming, and she was trying to nerve herself to meet it. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Bessie,” he said slowly, “it is this. For years I have +loved you and wanted to marry you. I again ask you to be my wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Frank Muller,” she answered, her spirit rising to the +occasion, “I thank you for your offer, and the only answer that I can +give you is that I once and for all decline it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Think,” he said; “I love you as women are not often loved. +You are always in my mind, by day and by night too. Everything I do, every step +I go up the ladder, I have said and say to myself, ‘I am doing it for +Bessie Croft, whom I mean to marry.’ Things have changed in this country. +The rebellion has been successful. It was I who gave the casting vote for it +that I might win you. I am now a great man, and shall one day be a greater. You +will be great with me. Think what you say.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have thought, and I will not marry you. You dare to come and ask me to +marry you over the ashes of my home, out of which you have dragged me and my +poor old uncle. I hate you, I tell you, and I will not marry you! I had rather +marry a Kafir than marry you, Frank Muller, however great you may be.” +</p> + +<p> +He smiled. “Is it because of the Englishman Niel that you will not marry +me? He is dead. It is useless to cling to a dead man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dead or alive, I love him with all my heart, and if he is dead it is at +the hands of your people, and his blood rises up between us.” +</p> + +<p> +“His blood has sunk down into the sand. He is dead, and I am glad that he +is dead. Once more, is that your last word?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good. Then I tell you that you shall marry me +or——” +</p> + +<p> +“Or what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Or your uncle, the old man you love so much, shall <i>die!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” she said in a choked voice. +</p> + +<p> +“What I say; no more and no less. Do you think that I will let one old +man’s life stand between me and my desire? Never. If you will not marry +me, Silas Croft shall be put upon his trial for attempted murder and for +treason within an hour from this. Within an hour and a half he shall be +condemned to die, and to-morrow at dawn he shall be shot, by warrant under my +hand. I am commandant here, with power of life and death, and I tell you that +he shall certainly die—and his blood will be on your head.” +</p> + +<p> +Bessie grasped at the tree for support. “You dare not,” she said; +“you dare not murder an innocent old man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dare not!” he answered; “you must understand me very ill, +Bessie Croft, when you talk of what I dare not do for you. There is +nothing,” he added, with a thrill of his rich voice, “that I dare +not do to gain you. Listen: promise to marry me to-morrow morning. I will bring +a clergyman here from Wakkerstroom, and your uncle shall go free as air, though +he is a traitor to the land, and though he has tried to shoot a burgher after +the declaration of peace. Refuse, and he dies. Choose now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have chosen,” she answered with passion. “Frank Muller, +perjured traitor—yes, murderer that you are, I will <i>not</i> marry +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good, very good, Bessie; as you will. But now one more thing. You +shall not say that I have not warned you. If you persist in this your uncle +shall die, but you shall not escape me. You will not marry me? Well, even in +this country, where I can do most things, I cannot force you to do that. But I +can force you to be my wife in all but the name, without marriage; and this, +when your uncle is stiff in his bloody grave, I will do. You shall have one +more chance after the trial, and one only. If you refuse he shall die, and +then, after his death, I shall take you away by force, and in a week’s +time you will be glad enough to marry me to cover up your shame, my +pretty!” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a devil, Frank Muller, a wicked devil, but I will not be +frightened into dishonour by you. I had rather kill myself. I trust to God to +help me. I will have nothing to do with you;” and she put her hands +before her face and burst into tears. +</p> + +<p> +“You look lovely when you weep,” he said with a laugh; +“to-morrow I shall be able to kiss away your tears. As you will. Here, +you!” he shouted to some men, who could be seen watching the progress of +the dying fire, “come here.” +</p> + +<p> +Some of the men obeyed, and to them he gave instructions in the same terms that +he had given to the other two men who were watching old Silas, ordering Bessie +to be instantly incarcerated in the corresponding little room on the other side +of the waggon-house, and kept strictly from all communication with the outside +world, adding, however, these words: +</p> + +<p> +“Bid the burghers assemble in the waggon-house for the trial of the +Englishman, Silas Croft, for treason against the State, and attempted murder of +one of the burghers of the State in the execution of the commands of the +Triumvirate.” +</p> + +<p> +The two men advanced and seized Bessie by both arms. Then, faint and +overpowered, she was led through the little plantation, over a gap in the +garden wall, down past the scorched syringa-trees which lined the roadway that +ran along the hillside at the back of the still burning house, till they +reached the waggon-house with the two little rooms which served respectively as +a store and a harness room. There she was thrust into the store-room, which was +half full of loose potatoes and mealies in sacks, and the door locked upon her. +</p> + +<p> +There was no window to this room, and the only light in it was such as found +its way through the chinks of the door and an air-hole in the masonry of the +back wall. Bessie sank on a half-emptied sack of mealies and tried to reflect. +Her first thought was of escape, but soon she came to the conclusion that this +was a practical impossibility. The stout yellow wood door was locked upon her, +and a sentry stood before it. She rose and looked through the air-hole in the +rear wall, but there another sentry was posted. Then she turned her attention +to the side wall that divided the room from the waggon-house. It was built of +fourteen-inch green brickwork, and had cracked from the shrinkage of the +bricks, so that she could hear everything that went on in the waggon-house, and +even see anybody who might be moving about in it. But it was far too strong for +her to hope to be able to break through, and even if she did, it would be +useless, for armed men were there also. Besides, how could she run away and +leave her old uncle to his fate? +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap29"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.<br/> +CONDEMNED TO DEATH</h2> + +<p> +Half an hour passed in silence, which was broken only by the footsteps of the +sentries as they tramped, or rather loitered, up and down, or by the occasional +fall of some calcined masonry from the walls of the burnt-out house. What +between the smell of smoke and dust, the heat of the sun on the tin roof above, +and the red-hot embers of the house in front, the little room where Bessie was +shut up grew almost unbearable, and she felt as though she should faint upon +the sacks. Through one of the cracks in the waggon-house wall there blew a +slight draught, and by this crack Bessie placed herself, leaning her head +against the wall so as to get the full benefit of the air and to command a view +of the place. Presently several of the Boers came into the waggon-house and +pulled some of the carts and timber out of it, leaving one buck-waggon, +however, placed along the wall on the side opposite to the crack through which +Bessie was looking. Then they pulled the Scotch cart over to her side, laughing +about something among themselves as they did so, and arranged it with its back +turned towards the waggon, supporting the shafts upon a waggon-jack. Next, out +of the farther corner of the place, they extracted an old saw-bench, and set it +at the top of the open space. Then Bessie understood what they were doing: they +were arranging a court, and the saw-bench was the judge’s chair. So Frank +Muller meant to carry out his threat! +</p> + +<p> +Shortly after this all the Boers, except those who were keeping guard, filed +into the place and began to clamber on to the buck-waggon, seating themselves +with much rough joking in a double row upon the broad side rails. Next appeared +Hans Coetzee, his head bound up in a bloody handkerchief. He was pale and +shaky, but Bessie could see that he was but little the worse for his wound. +Then came Frank Muller himself, looking white and very terrible, and as he came +the men stopped their jokes and talking. Indeed it was curious to observe how +strong was his ascendancy over them. As a rule, the weak part of Boer +organisation is that it is practically impossible to persuade one Boer to pay +deference to or obey another; but this was certainly not the case where Frank +Muller was concerned. +</p> + +<p> +Muller advanced without hesitation to the saw-bench at the top of the open +space, and sat down on it, placing his rifle between his knees. After this +there was a pause, and then Bessie saw her old uncle led forward by two armed +Boers, who halted in the middle of the space, about three paces from the +saw-bench, and stood one on either side of their prisoner. At the same time +Hans Coetzee climbed into the Scotch cart, and Muller drew a note-book and a +pencil from his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“Silence!” he said. “We are assembled here to try the +Englishman, Silas Croft, by court-martial. The charges against him are that by +word and deed, notably by continuing to fly the British flag after the country +had been surrendered to the Republic, he has traitorously rebelled against the +Government of this country. Further, that he has attempted to murder a burgher +of the Republic by shooting at him with a loaded rifle. If these charges are +proved against him he will be liable to death, by martial law. Prisoner Croft, +what do you answer to the charges against you?” +</p> + +<p> +The old man, who seemed very quiet and composed, looked up at his judge, and +then replied: +</p> + +<p> +“I am an English subject. I only defended my house after you had murdered +one of my servants. I deny your jurisdiction over me, and I refuse to +plead.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank Muller made some notes in his pocket-book, and then said, “I +overrule the prisoner’s objection as to the jurisdiction of the court. As +to the charges, we will now take evidence. Of the first charge no evidence is +needed, for we all saw the flag flying. As to the second, Hans Coetzee, the +assaulted burgher, will now give evidence. Hans Coetzee, do you swear, in the +name of God and the Republic, to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing +but the truth?” +</p> + +<p> +“Almighty, yes,” answered Hans from the cart on which he had +enthroned himself, “so help me the dear Lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“Proceed, then.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was entering the house of the prisoner to arrest him, in obedience to +your worshipful commands, when the prisoner lifted a gun and fired at me. The +bullet from the gun struck me upon the ear, cutting it and putting me to much +pain and loss of blood. That is the evidence I have to give.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right; that is not a lie,” said some of the men on +the waggon. +</p> + +<p> +“Prisoner, have you any question to ask the witness?” said Muller. +</p> + +<p> +“I have no question to ask; I deny your jurisdiction,” said the old +man with spirit. +</p> + +<p> +“The prisoner declines to question the witness, and again pleads to the +jurisdiction, a plea which I have overruled. Gentlemen, do you desire to hear +any further evidence?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you find the prisoner guilty of the charges laid against him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” from the waggon. +</p> + +<p> +Muller made a further note in his book, and went on: +</p> + +<p> +“Then, the prisoner having been found guilty of high treason and +attempted murder, the only matter that remains is the question of the +punishment required to be meted out by the law to such wicked and horrible +offences. Every man will give his verdict, having duly considered if there is +any way by which, in accordance with the holy dictates of his conscience, and +with the natural promptings to pity in his heart, he can extend mercy to the +prisoner. As commandant and president of the court, the first vote lies with +me; and I must tell you, gentlemen, that I feel the responsibility a very heavy +one in the sight of God and my country; and I must also warn you not to be +influenced or overruled by my decision, who am, like you, only a man, liable to +err and be led away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hear, hear,” said the voices on the waggon as he paused to note +the effect of his address. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen and burghers of the State, my natural promptings in this case +are towards pity. The prisoner is an old man, who has lived many years amongst +us like a brother. Indeed, he is a <i>voortrekker</i>, and, though an +Englishman, one of the fathers of the land. Can we condemn such a one to a +bloody grave, more especially as he has a niece dependent on him?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no!” they cried, in answer to this skilful touch upon the +better strings in their nature. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen, those sentiments do you honour. My own heart cried but now, +‘No, no. Whatever his sins have been, let the old man go free.’ But +then came reflection. True, the prisoner is old; but should not age have taught +him wisdom? Is that which is not to be forgiven to youth to be forgiven to the +ripe experience of many years? May a man murder and be a traitor because he is +old?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, certainly not!” answered the chorus on the waggon. +</p> + +<p> +“Then there is the second point. He was a <i>voortrekker</i> and a father +to the land. Should he not therefore have known better than to betray it into +the hands of the cruel, godless English? For, gentlemen, though that charge is +not laid against him, we must remember, as throwing light upon his general +character, that the prisoner was one of those vile men who betrayed the land to +Shepstone. Is it not a most cruel and unnatural thing that a father should sell +his own children into slavery?—that a father of the land should barter +away its freedom? Therefore on this point too does justice temper mercy.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is so,” echoed the chorus with particular enthusiasm, most of +them having themselves been instrumental in bringing the annexation about. +</p> + +<p> +“Then one more thing: this man has a niece, and it is the care of all +good men to see that the young shall not be left destitute and friendless, lest +they should grow up bad and become enemies to the well-being of the State. But +in this case that will not be so, for the farm will go to the girl by law; and, +indeed, she will be well rid of so desperate and godless an old man. +</p> + +<p> +“And now, having set my reasons towards one side and the other before +you, and having warned you fully to act each man according to his conscience, I +give my vote. It is”—and in the midst of the most intense silence +he paused and looked at old Silas, who never even quailed—“it is +<i>death</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a little hum of conversation, and poor Bessie, surveying the scene +through the crack in the store-room wall, groaned in bitterness and despair of +heart. +</p> + +<p> +Then Hans Coetzee spoke. “It cut his bosom in two,” he said, +“to have to say a word against one to whom he had for many years been as +a brother. But, then, what was he to do? The man had plotted evil against their +land, the dear land that the dear Lord had given them, and which they and their +fathers had on various occasions watered, and were still continuing to water, +with their blood. What could be a fitting punishment for so black-hearted a +traitor, and how would it be possible to insure the better behaviour of other +damned Englishmen, unless they inflicted that punishment? There could, alas! be +but one answer—though, personally speaking, he uttered it with many +tears—and that answer was <i>death</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +After this there were no more speeches, but each man voted, according to his +age, upon his name being called by the president. At first there was a little +hesitation, for some among them were fond of old Silas, and loth to destroy +him. But Frank Muller had played his game very well, and, notwithstanding his +appeals to their independence of judgment, they knew full surely what would +happen to him who gave his vote against the president. So they swallowed their +better feelings with all the ease for which such swallowing is noted, and one +by one uttered the fatal word. +</p> + +<p> +When they had all done Frank Muller addressed Silas: +</p> + +<p> +“Prisoner, you have heard the judgment against you. I need not now +recapitulate your crimes. You have had a fair and open trial by court-martial, +such as our law directs. Have you anything to say why sentence of death should +not be passed upon you in accordance with the judgment?” +</p> + +<p> +Old Silas looked up with flashing eyes, and shook back his fringe of white hair +like a lion at bay. +</p> + +<p> +“I have nothing to say. If you will do murder, do it, black-hearted +villain that you are! I might point to my grey hairs, to my murdered servant, +to my home that took me ten years to build—destroyed by you! I might tell +you how I have been a good citizen and lived peaceably and neighbourly in the +land for more than twenty years—ay, and done kindness after kindness to +many of you who are going to butcher me in cold blood! But I will not. Shoot me +if you will, and may my death lie heavy on your heads. This morning I would +have said that my country would avenge me; I cannot say that now, for England +has deserted us, and I have no country. Therefore I leave the vengeance in the +hands of God, who never fails to avenge, though sometimes He waits for long to +do it. I am not afraid of you. Shoot me—now if you like. I have lost my +honour, my home, and my country; why should I not lose my life also?” +</p> + +<p> +Frank Muller fixed his cold eyes upon the old man’s quivering face and +smiled a dreadful smile of triumph. +</p> + +<p> +“Prisoner, it is now my duty in the name of God and the Republic, to +sentence you to be shot to-morrow at dawn, and may the Almighty forgive you +your wickedness and have mercy upon your soul. +</p> + +<p> +“Let the prisoner be removed, and let a man ride full speed to the empty +house on the hillside, where the Englishman with the red beard used to live, +one hour this side of Wakkerstroom, and bring back with him the clergyman he +will find waiting there, that the prisoner may be offered his ministrations. +Also let two men be set to dig the prisoner’s grave in the burial-place +at the back of the house.” +</p> + +<p> +The guards laid their hands upon the old man’s shoulders, and he turned +and went with them without a word. Through her crack in the wall Bessie watched +him go till the dear old head with its fringe of white hairs and the bent frame +were no more visible. Then at last, benumbed and exhausted by the horrors she +was passing through, her faculties failed her, and she fell forward in a faint +there upon the sacks. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Muller was writing the death-warrant on a sheet of his pocket-book. +At the foot he left a space for his own signature, but for reasons of his own +he did not sign. What he did do was to pass the book round to be countersigned +by all who had formed the court in this mock trial, his object being to +implicate every one there present in the judicial murder by the direct and +incontrovertible evidence of his sign-manual. Now, Boers are simple pastoral +folk, but they are not quite so simple as to be deceived by a move like this, +and hereon followed a very instructive little scene. To a man they had been +willing enough to give their verdict for the execution of Silas, but they were +by no means prepared to record it in black and white. As soon as they +understood the object of their feared and respected commandant, a general +desire manifested itself to make themselves individually and collectively +scarce. Suddenly they found that they had business outside, to which each and +all of them must attend. Already they had escaped from their extemporised +jury-box, and, headed by the redoubtable Hans, were approaching the entrance to +the waggon-house, when Frank Muller perceived their design, and roared in a +voice of thunder: +</p> + +<p> +“Stop! Not a man leaves this place till the warrant is signed.” +</p> + +<p> +Instantly they halted, and began to look innocent and converse. +</p> + +<p> +“Hans Coetzee, come here and sign,” said Muller again, whereon that +unfortunate advanced with as good a grace as he could muster, murmuring to +himself curses, not loud but deep, upon the head of “that devil of a man, +Frank Muller.” +</p> + +<p> +However, there was no help for it, so, with a sickly smile, he put his name to +the fatal document in big and shaky letters. Then Muller called another man, +who instantly tried to shirk on the ground that his education had been +neglected, and that he could not write, an excuse which availed him little, for +Frank Muller quietly wrote his name for him, leaving a space for his mark. +After this there was no more trouble, and in five minutes the back of the +warrant was covered with the sprawling signatures of the various members of the +court. +</p> + +<p> +One by one the men went, till at last Muller was left alone, seated on the +saw-bench, his head sunk upon his breast, in one hand holding the warrant, +while with the other he stroked his golden beard. Presently he ceased stroking +his beard and sat for some minutes perfectly still—so still that he might +have been carved in stone. By this time the afternoon sun had sunk behind the +hill and the deep waggon-house was full of shadow that seemed to gather round +him and invest him with a sombre, mysterious grandeur. He looked like a King of +Evil, for Evil has her princes as well as Good, whom she stamps with an +imperial seal of power, and crowns with a diadem of her own, and among these +Frank Muller was surely great. A little smile of triumph played upon his +beautiful cruel face, a little light danced within his cold eyes and ran down +the yellow beard. At that moment he might have sat for a portrait of his +master, the devil. +</p> + +<p> +Presently he awoke from his reverie. “I have her!” he said to +himself; “I have her in a vice! She cannot escape me; she cannot let the +old man die! Those curs have served my purpose well; they are as easy to play +on as a fiddle, and I am a good player. Yes, and now we are getting to the end +of the tune.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap30"></a>CHAPTER XXX.<br/> +“WE MUST PART, JOHN”</h2> + +<p> +Jess and her companion stood in awed silence and gazed at the blackening and +distorted corpses of the thunder-blasted Boers. Then they passed by them to the +tree which grew some ten paces or more on the other side of the place of death. +There was some difficulty in leading the horses by the bodies, but at last they +came with a wheel and a snort of suspicion, and were tied up to the tree by +John. Meanwhile Jess took some of the hard-boiled eggs out of the basket and +vanished, remarking that she should take her clothes off and dry them in the +sun while she ate her breakfast, and that she advised him to do likewise. +Accordingly, so soon as she was well out of sight behind the shelter of the +rocks she set to work to free herself from her sodden garments, a task of no +little difficulty. Then she wrung them out and spread them one by one on the +flat water-washed stones around, which were by now thoroughly warmed with the +sun. Next she climbed to a pool under the shadow of the steep bank, in the +rock-bed of the river, where she bathed her bruises and washed the sand and mud +from her hair and feet. Her bath finished, she returned and sat herself on a +slab of flat stone out of the glare of the sun, and ate her breakfast of +hard-boiled eggs, reflecting meanwhile on the position in which she found +herself. Her heart was very sore and heavy, and almost could she wish that she +were lying deep beneath those rushing waters. She had counted upon death, and +now she was not dead; indeed, she with her shame and trouble might yet live for +many a year. She was as one who in her sleep had seemed to soar on +angels’ wings far into the airy depths, and then awakened with a start to +find that she had tumbled from her bed. All the heroic scale, all the more than +earthly depth of passion, all the spiritualised desires that sprang into being +beneath the shadow of the approaching end, had come down to the common level of +an undesirable attachment, along which she must drag her weary feet for many a +year. Nor was this all. She had been false to Bessie; more, she had broken +Bessie’s lover’s troth. She had tempted him and he had fallen, and +now he was as bad as she. Death would have justified all this; never would she +have done it had she thought that she was doomed to live; but now Death had +cheated her, as is his fashion with people to whom his presence is more or less +desirable, leaving her to cope with the spirit she had invoked when his sword +was quivering over her. +</p> + +<p> +What would be the end of it in the event of their escape? What could be the end +except misery? It should go no farther, far as it had gone—that she +swore; no, not if it broke her heart and his too. The conditions were altered +again, and the memory of those dreadful and wondrous hours when they two swung +upon the raging river and exchanged their undying troth, with the grave for an +altar, must remain a memory and nothing more. It had risen in their lives like +some beautiful yet terrible dream-image of celestial joy, and now like a dream +it must vanish. And yet it was no dream, except in so far as all her life was a +dream and a vision, a riddle of which glimpses of the answer came as rarely as +gleams of sunshine on a rainy day. Alas! it was no dream; it was a portion of +the living, breathing past, that, having once been, is immortal in its every +part and moment, incarnating as it does the very spirit of immortality, an +utter incapacity to change. As the act was, as the word had been spoken, so +would act and word be for ever and for ever. And now this undying thing must be +caged and cast about with the semblance of death and clouded over with the +shadow of an unreal forgetfulness. Oh, it was bitter, very bitter! What would +it be now to go away, quite away from him, and know him married to her own +sister, the other woman with a prior right? What would it be to think of +Bessie’s sweetness slowly creeping into her empty place and filling it, +of Bessie’s gentle constant love covering up the recollection of their +wilder passion; pervading it and covering it up as the twilight slowly pervades +and covers up the day, till at last perhaps it was blotted out and forgotten in +the night of forgetfulness? +</p> + +<p> +And yet it must be so: she was determined that it should be so. Ah, that she +had died then with his kiss upon her lips! Why had he not let her die? And +grieving thus the poor girl shook her damp hair over her face and sobbed in the +bitterness of her heart, as Eve might have sobbed when Adam reproached her. +</p> + +<p> +But, naked or dressed, sobbing will not mend matters in this sad world of ours, +a fact which Jess had the sense to recognise; so presently she wiped her eyes +with her hair, having nothing else at hand to wipe them with, and set to work +to struggle into her partially dried garments again, a process calculated to +irritate the most fortunate and happy-minded woman in the whole wide world. +Certainly in her present frame of mind those damp, bullet-torn clothes drove +Jess frantic, so much so that had she been a man she would probably have +sworn—a consolation that her sex denied her. Fortunately she carried a +travelling comb in her pocket, with which she made shift to do her curling +hair, if hair can be said to be done when one has not a hairpin or even a bit +of string wherewith to fasten it. +</p> + +<p> +Then, after a last and frightful encounter with her sodden boots, that seemed +to take almost as much out of her as her roll at the bottom of the Vaal, Jess +rose and walked back to the spot where she had left John an hour before. When +she reached him he was employed in saddling up the two greys with the saddles +and bridles that he had removed from the carcases of the horses which the +lightning had destroyed. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Jess, you look quite smart. Have you dried your clothes?” he +said. “I have after a fashion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +He looked at her. “Dearest, you have been crying. Come, things are black +enough, but it is useless to cry. At any rate, we have escaped with our lives +so far.” +</p> + +<p> +“John,” said Jess sharply, “there must be no more of that. +Things have changed. We were dead last night. Now we have come to life again. +Besides,” she added, with a ghost of a laugh, “perhaps you will see +Bessie to-morrow. I should think that we ought to have come to the end of our +misfortunes.” +</p> + +<p> +John’s face fell as a sense of the impossible and most tragic position in +which they were placed, physically and morally, swept into his mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Jess, my own Jess,” he said, “what <i>can</i> we do?” +</p> + +<p> +She stamped her foot in the bitter anguish of her heart. “I told +you,” she said, “that there must be no more of that. What are you +thinking about? From to-day we are dead to each other. I have done with you and +you with me. It is your own fault; you should have let me die. Oh, John,” +she wailed out, “why did you not let me die? Why did we not both die? We +should have been happy now, or—asleep. We must part, John, we must part; +and what shall I do without you, how <i>shall</i> I live without you?” +</p> + +<p> +Her distress was very poignant, and it affected him so much that for a moment +he could not trust himself to answer her. +</p> + +<p> +“Would it not be best to make a clean breast of it to Bessie?” he +said at last. “I should feel a villain for the rest of my life, but upon +my word I have a mind to do it.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” she cried passionately, “I will not allow it! You +shall swear to me that you will never breathe a word to Bessie. I will not have +her happiness destroyed. We have sinned, we must suffer; not Bessie, who is +innocent, and only takes her right. I promised my dear mother to look after +Bessie and protect her, and I will not be the one to betray her—never, +never! You must marry her and I must go away. There is no other way out of +it.” +</p> + +<p> +John looked at her, not knowing what to say or do. A sharp pang of despair went +through him as he watched the passionate pale face and the great eyes dim with +tears. How was he to part from her? He put out his arms to take her in them, +but she pushed him away almost fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you no honour?” she cried. “Is it not all hard enough +to bear without your tempting me? I tell you it is done with. Finish saddling +that horse and let us start. The sooner we get off the sooner it will be over, +unless the Boers catch us again and shoot us, which for my own part I devoutly +hope they may. You must make up your mind to remember that I am nothing but +your sister-in-law. If you will not remember it, then I shall ride away and +leave you to go your road and I will go mine.” +</p> + +<p> +John said no more. Her determination was as crushing as the cruel necessity +that dictated it. What was more, his own reason and sense of honour approved +it, whatever his passion might prompt to the contrary. As he turned wearily to +finish saddling the horses, with Jess he almost regretted that they had not +both been drowned. +</p> + +<p> +Of course the only saddles that they had were those belonging to the dead +Boers, which was very awkward for a lady. Luckily for herself, however, from +constant practice, Jess could ride almost as well as though she had been +trained to the ring, and was even capable of balancing herself without a pommel +on a man’s saddle, having often and often ridden round the farm in that +fashion. So soon as the horses were ready she astonished John by clambering +into the saddle of the older and steadier animal, placing her foot in the +stirrup-strap and announcing that she was ready to start. +</p> + +<p> +“You had better ride some other way,” said John. “It +isn’t usual, I know, but you will tumble off so.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall see,” she said with a cold little laugh, putting the +horse into a canter as she spoke. John followed her on the other horse, and +noticed with amazement that she sat as straight and steady on her slippery seat +as though she were on a hunting saddle, keeping herself from falling by an +instinctive balancing of the body which was very curious to notice. When they +were well on to the plain they halted to consider their route, and, turning, +Jess pointed to the long lines of vultures descending to feast on their +would-be murderers. If they went down the river it would lead them to +Standerton, and there they would be safe if they could slip into the town, +which was garrisoned by English. But then, as they had gathered from the +conversation of their escort, Standerton was closely invested by the Boers, and +to try and pass through their lines was more than they dared to do. It was true +that they still had the pass signed by the Boer general, but after what had +occurred not unnaturally they were somewhat sceptical about the value of a +pass, and certainly most unwilling to put its efficacy to the proof. So after +due consideration they determined to avoid Standerton and ride in the opposite +direction till they found a practicable ford of the Vaal. Fortunately, they +both of them had a very good idea of the lay of the land; and, in addition to +this, John possessed a small compass, fastened to his watch-chain, which would +enable him to steer a fairly correct course across a veldt—a fact that +rendered them independent of the waggon tracks. On the roads they were exposed +to the risk, if not the certainty, of detection. But on the wide veldt the +chances were they would meet no living creature except the wild game. Should +they see houses they could avoid them, and probably their male inhabitants +would be far away from home on business connected with the war. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly they rode ten miles or more along the bank without seeing a soul, +till they reached a space of bubbling, shallow water that looked fordable. +Indeed, an investigation of the banks revealed the fact that a loaded waggon +had passed the river here and at no distant date, perhaps a week before. +</p> + +<p> +“This is good enough,” said John; “we will try it.” And +without further ado they plunged into the rapid. +</p> + +<p> +In the centre of the stream the water was strong and deep, and for a few yards +swept the horses off their legs, but they struck out boldly till they found +their footing again; and after that there was no more trouble. On the farther +side of the river John took counsel with his compass, and they steered a course +straight for Mooifontein. At midday they off-saddled the horses for an hour by +some water, and ate a small portion of their remaining food. Then they +up-saddled and went on across the lonely, desolate veldt. No human being did +they see all that long day. The wide country was tenanted only by great herds +of game that went thundering past like squadrons of cavalry, or here and there +by coteries of vultures, hissing and fighting furiously over some dead buck. +And so at last the twilight gathered and found them alone in the wilderness. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what is to be done now?” said John, pulling up his tired +horse. “It will be dark in half an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +Jess slid from her saddle as she answered, “Get off and go to sleep, I +suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +She was quite right; there was absolutely nothing else that they could do; so +John set to work and hobbled the horses, tying them together for further +security, for it would be a dreadful thing if they were to stray. By the time +that this was done the twilight was deepening into night, and the two sat down +to contemplate their surroundings with feelings akin to despair. So far as the +eye could reach there was nothing to be seen but a vast stretch of lonely +plain, across which the night wind blew in dreary gusts, causing the green +grass to ripple like the sea. There was absolutely no shelter to be had, nor +any object to break the monotony of the veldt, except two ant-heaps set about +five paces apart. John sat down on one of the ant-heaps, and Jess took up her +position on the other, and there they remained, like pelicans in the +wilderness, watching the daylight fade out of the day. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you think that we had better sit together?” suggested +John feebly. “It would be warmer, you see.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t,” answered Jess snappishly. “I am very +comfortable as I am.” +</p> + +<p> +Unfortunately, however, this was not the exact truth, for already poor +Jess’s teeth were chattering with cold. Soon, indeed, weary as they were, +they found that the only way to keep their blood moving was to tramp +continually up and down. After an hour and a half of this exercise, the breeze +dropped and the temperature became more suitable to their lightly clad, +half-starved, and almost exhausted bodies. Then the moon came up, and the +hyenas, or wolves, or some such animals, came up also and howled round +them—though they could not see them. These hyenas proved more than +Jess’s nerves would bear, and at last she condescended to ask John to +share her ant-heap: where they sat, shivering in each other’s arms, +throughout the livelong night. Indeed, had it not been for the warmth they +gathered from each other, it is probable that they might have fared even worse +than they did; for, though the days were hot, the nights were now beginning to +be cold on the high veldt, especially when, as at present, the air had recently +been chilled by the passage of a heavy tempest. Another drawback to their +romantic situation was that they were positively soaked with the falling dew. +There they sat, or rather cowered, for hour after hour without sleeping, for +sleep was impossible, and almost without speaking; and yet, notwithstanding the +wretchedness of their circumstances, not altogether unhappy, since they were +united in their misery. At last the eastern sky began to turn grey, and John +rose, shook the dew from his hat and clothes, and limped off as well as his +half-frozen limbs would allow to catch the horses, which were standing together +some yards away, looking huge and ghost-like in the mist. By sunrise he had +managed to saddle them up, and they started once more. This time, however, he +was obliged to lift Jess on to the saddle. +</p> + +<p> +About eight o’clock they halted and ate their little remaining food, and +then went on, slowly enough, for the horses were almost as tired as they were, +and it was necessary to husband them if they were to reach Mooifontein by dark. +At midday they rested for an hour and a half, and then, feeling almost worn +out, continued their journey, reckoning that they could not be more than +sixteen or seventeen miles from Mooifontein. It was about two hours after this +that the catastrophe happened. The course they were following ran down the side +of one land wave, then across a little swampy <i>sluit</i>, and up the opposite +slope. They crossed the marshy ground, walked their horses up to the crest of +the opposite rise, and found themselves face to face with a party of armed and +mounted Boers. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap31"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.<br/> +JESS FINDS A FRIEND</h2> + +<p> +The Boers swooped down on them with a shout, like hawks on a sparrow. John +pulled up his horse and drew his revolver. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t, don’t!” cried Jess; “our only chance is +to be civil;” whereon, thinking better of the matter, he replaced it, and +wished the leading Boer good-day. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing here?” asked the Dutchman; whereon Jess +explained that they had a pass—which John promptly produced—and +were proceeding to Mooifontein. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, <i>Oom</i> Croft’s!” said the Boer as he took the pass, +“you are likely to meet a burying party there,” but at the time +Jess did not understand what he meant. He eyed the pass suspiciously all over, +and then asked how it came to be stained with water. +</p> + +<p> +Jess, not daring to tell the truth, said that it had been dropped into a +puddle. The Boer was about to return it when suddenly his eye fell upon +Jess’s saddle. +</p> + +<p> +“How is it that the girl is riding on a man’s saddle?” he +asked. “Why, I know that saddle; let me look at the other side. Yes, +there is a bullet-hole through the flap. That is Swart Dirk’s saddle. How +did you get it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I bought it from him,” answered Jess without a moment’s +hesitation. “I could get nothing to ride on.” +</p> + +<p> +The Boer shook his head. “There are plenty of saddles in Pretoria,” +he said, “and these are not the days when a man sells his saddle to an +English girl. Ah! and that other is a Boer saddle too. No Englishman has a +saddle-cloth like that. This pass is not sufficient,” he went on in a +cold tone; “it should have been countersigned by the local commandant. I +must arrest you.” +</p> + +<p> +Jess began to make further excuses, but he merely repeated, “I must +arrest you,” and gave some orders to the men with him. +</p> + +<p> +“We are caught again,” she said to John; “and there is +nothing for it but to go.” +</p> + +<p> +“I sha’n’t mind so much if only they will give us some +food,” replied John philosophically. “I am half starved.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I am half dead,” said Jess with a little laugh. “I wish +they would shoot us and have done with it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, cheer up, Jess,” he answered; “perhaps the luck is +going to change.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head with the air of one who expects the worst, and then some gay +young spirits among the Boers came up and made things pleasant by an exhibition +of their polished wit, which they chiefly exercised at the expense of poor +Jess, whose appearance, as may well be imagined, was exceedingly wretched and +forlorn; so much so that it would have moved the pity of most people. But these +specimens of the golden youth of a simple pastoral folk found in it a rich mine +of opportunities. They asked her if she would not like to ride straddle-legged, +and if she had bought her dress from an old Hottentot who had done with it, and +if she had been rolling about tipsy in the veldt to get all the mud on it; and +generally availed themselves of this unparalleled occasion to be witty at the +expense of an English lady in sore distress. Indeed, one gay young dog called +Jacobus was proceeding from jokes linguistic to jokes practical. Perceiving +that Jess only kept her seat on the man’s saddle by the exercise of a +faculty of balance, it occurred to him that it would be a fine thing to upset +it and make her fall upon her face. Accordingly, with a sudden twist of the +rein he brought his horse sharply against her wearied animal, nearly throwing +it down; but she was too quick for him, and saved herself by catching at the +mane. Jess said nothing; indeed, she made no answer to her tormentors, and +fortunately John understood little of what they were saying. Presently, +however, the young Boer made another attempt, putting out his hand to give her +a slight push. As it happened John saw this, and the sight of the indignity +caused the blood to boil in his veins. Before he could reflect on what he was +doing he was alongside of the man, and, catching him by the throat, had hurled +him backwards over his crupper with all the force he could command. Jacobus +fell heavily upon his shoulders, and instantly there was a great hubbub. John +drew his revolver, and the other Boers raised their rifles, so that Jess +thought there was an end of it, and put her hand before her face, having first +thanked John for avenging the insult with a swift flash of her beautiful eyes. +And indeed in another second it would have been all over had not the elder man +who inspected the pass interposed. In fact he had witnessed the proceedings +which led to his follower’s discomfiture, and, being a decent person at +bottom, strongly disapproved of them. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave them alone and put down those guns,” he shouted. “It +served Jacobus right; he was trying to push the girl from her horse! Almighty! +it is not wonderful those English call us brute beasts when you boys do such +things. Put down your guns, I say, and one of you help Jacobus up. He looks as +sick as a buck with a bullet through it.” +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly the row passed over, and the playful Jacobus—whom Jess noted +with satisfaction seemed exceedingly ill and trembled in every limb—was +with difficulty hoisted on to his horse, to continue his journey with not a +single bit of fun left in him. +</p> + +<p> +A little while after this Jess pointed out a long low hill that lay upon the +flat veldt, a dozen miles or so away, like a stone upon a stretch of sand. +</p> + +<p> +“Look,” she said, “there is Mooifontein at last!” +</p> + +<p> +“We are not there yet,” remarked John sadly. +</p> + +<p> +Another weary half-hour passed, and then on passing over a crest suddenly they +saw Hans Coetzee’s homestead lying down by the water in the hollow. So +that was whither they were being taken. +</p> + +<p> +Within a hundred yards of the house the Boers halted and consulted, except +Jacobus, who went on, still looking very green. Finally the elder man came to +them and addressed Jess, at the same time handing her back the pass. +</p> + +<p> +“You can go on home,” he said. “The Englishman must stay with +us till we find out more about him.” +</p> + +<p> +“He says that I can go. What shall I do?” asked Jess. “I +don’t like leaving you with these men.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do? why, go, of course. I can look after myself; and if I can’t, +certainly you won’t be able to help me. Perhaps you will be able to get +some help from the farm. At any rate, you must go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Englishman,” said the Boer. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, Jess,” said John. “God bless you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, John,” she answered, looking him steadily in the eyes +for a moment, and then turning away to hide the tears which would gather in her +own. +</p> + +<p> +And thus they parted. +</p> + +<p> +She knew her way now even across the open veldt, for she dared not go by the +road. There was, however, a bridle path that ran over the hill at the back of +Mooifontein, and for this she shaped her course. It was five o’clock by +now, and both she and her horse were in a condition of great exhaustion, +enhanced in her own case by want of food and trouble of mind. But she was a +strong woman, with a will like iron, and she held on when most girls would have +died. Jess meant to get to Mooifontein somehow, and she knew that she would get +there. If only she could reach the place and find help to send to her lover, +she did not greatly care what happened to her afterwards. The pace of the horse +she was riding grew slower and slower. From the ambling canter into which at +first she managed occasionally to force it, and which is the best pace to +travel at in South Africa, it relapsed continually into a rough short trot, +which was agony to her, riding as she was, and from the trot into a walk. +Indeed, just before sunset, or a little after six o’clock, the walk +became final. At last they reached the rising ground that stretched up the +slope of the Mooifontein hill, and here the poor beast fell down utterly worn +out. Jess slipped off and tried to drag it up, but failed. It had no strength +left in it. So she did what she could, pulling off the bridle and undoing the +girth, so that the saddle would fall off if the horse ever managed to rise. The +animal watched her go with melancholy eyes, knowing that it was being deserted. +First it neighed, then with a desperate effort it struggled to its feet and +trotted after her for a hundred yards or so, only to fall down again at last. +Jess turned and saw it, and, exhausted as she was, she positively ran to get +away from the look in those big eyes. That night there was a cold rain, in +which the horse perished, as “poor” horses are apt to do. +</p> + +<p> +It was nearly dark when at length Jess reached the top of the hill and looked +down. She knew the spot well, and from it she could always see the light in the +kitchen window of the house. To-night there was no light. Wondering what it +could mean, and feeling a fresh chill of doubt creep round her heart, she +scrambled on down the hill. When she was about half-way a shower of sparks +suddenly shot into the air from the spot where the house should be, caused by +the fall of a piece of wall into the smouldering embers beneath. Again Jess +paused, wondering and aghast. What could have happened? Determined at all +hazards to discover, she crept on very cautiously. Before she had gone another +twenty yards, however, a hand was laid suddenly upon her arm. She turned +quickly, too paralysed with fear to cry out, and a voice that was familiar to +her whispered into her ear, “Missie Jess, Missie Jess, is it you? I am +Jantje.” +</p> + +<p> +She gave a sigh of relief, and her heart, which had stood still, began to move +again. Here was a friend at last. +</p> + +<p> +“I heard you coming down the hill, though you came so softly,” he +said; “but I could not tell who it was, because you jumped from rock to +rock and did not walk as usual. But I thought it was a woman with boots; I +could not see, because the light all falls dead against the hill, and the stars +are not up. So I got to the left of your path—for the wind is blowing +from the right—and waited till you had passed and <i>winded</i> you. Then +I knew who you were for certain—either you or Missie Bessie; but Missie +Bessie is shut up, so it could not be her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bessie shut up!” ejaculated Jess, not even pausing to marvel at +the dog-like instinct that had enabled the Hottentot to identify her. +“What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“This way, missie, come this way, and I will tell you;” and he led +her to a fantastic pile of rocks in which it was his wild habit to sleep. Jess +knew the place well, and had often peeped into, but never entered, the +Hottentot’s kennel. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop a bit, missie. I will go and light a candle; I have some in there, +and they can’t see the light from outside;” and accordingly he +vanished. In a few seconds he returned, and, taking her by the sleeve, led her +along a winding passage between great boulders till they came to a beehole in +the rocks, through which she could see the light shining. Going down on his +hands and knees, Jantje crept through, and Jess followed him. She found herself +in a small apartment, about six feet square by eight high, formed for the most +part by the accidental falling together of big boulders, and roofed in with one +great natural slab. The place, which was lighted by an end of candle stuck upon +the floor, was very dirty, as might be expected of a Hottentot’s den, and +in it were collected an enormous variety of odds and ends. As, discarding a +three-legged stool that Jantje offered her, Jess sank down on a pile of skins +in the corner, her eye fell upon a collection worthy of an old rag and bone +shop. The sides of the chamber were festooned with every imaginable garment, +from the white full-dress coat of an Austrian officer down to a shocking pair +of corduroys “lifted’ by Jantje from the body of a bushman, which +he had discovered in his rambles. All these clothes were in various stages of +decay, and obviously the result of years of patient collecting. In the corners +again were sticks, kerries, and two assegais, a number of queer-shaped stones +and bones, handles of broken table-knives, bits of the locks of guns, portions +of an American clock, and various other articles which this human jackdaw had +picked up and hidden away. Altogether it was a strange place: and vaguely it +occurred to Jess, as she sank back upon the dirty skins, that, had it not been +for the old clothes and the wreck of the American clock, she would have made +acquaintance with a very fair example of the dwellings of primeval man. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop before you begin,” she said. “Have you anything to eat +here? I am nearly starving.” +</p> + +<p> +Jantje grinned knowingly, and, grubbing in a heap of rubbish in the corner, +drew out a gourd with a piece of flat sheet iron, which once had formed the +back plate of a stove, placed on the top of it. It contained +“maas,” or curdled buttermilk, which a woman had brought him that +very morning from a neighbouring kraal, and it was destined for Jantje’s +own supper. Hungry as he was himself, for he had tasted no food all day, he +gave it to Jess without a moment’s hesitation, together with a wooden +spoon, and, squatting on the rock before her, watched her eat it with guttural +exclamations of satisfaction. Not knowing that she was robbing a hungry man, +Jess ate the maas to the last spoonful, and was grateful to feel the sensation +of gnawing sickness leave her. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” she said, “tell me what you mean.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereon Jantje began at the beginning and related the events of the day so far +as he was acquainted with them. When he came to where the old man was dragged, +with kicks and blows and ignominy, from his own house, Jess’s eyes +flashed, and she positively ground her teeth with indignation; and as for her +feelings when she learnt that he was condemned to death and to be shot at dawn +on the morrow, they are simply indescribable. Of the Bessie complication Jantje +was quite ignorant, and could only tell her that Frank Muller had an interview +with her sister in the little plantation, after which she was shut up in the +store-room, where she still remained. But this was quite enough for Jess, who +knew Muller’s character better, perhaps, than anybody else, and was not +by any means ignorant of his designs upon Bessie. A few moments’ thought +put the key of the matter into her hand. She saw now what was the reason of the +granting of the pass, and of the determined and partially successful attempt at +wholesale murder of which they had been the victims. She saw, too, why her old +uncle had been condemned to death—it was to be used as a lever with +Bessie; the man was capable even of that. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, she saw it all as clear as daylight; and in her heart she swore, helpless +as she seemed to be, that she would find a way to prevent it. But what way? +what way? Ah, if only John were here! but he was not, so she must act without +him if only she could see the road to action. She thought first of all of going +down boldly to face Muller and denounce him as a murderer before his men; but a +moment’s reflection showed that this was impracticable. For his own +safety he would be obliged to stop her mouth somehow, and the best she could +expect would be to be incarcerated and rendered quite powerless. If only she +could manage to communicate with Bessie! At any rate it was absolutely +necessary that she should know what was happening. She might as well be a +hundred miles away as a hundred yards. +</p> + +<p> +“Jantje,” she said, “tell me where the Boers are.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some are in the waggon-house, missie, some are on sentry, and the rest +are down by the waggon they brought with them and outspanned behind the gums +there. The cart is there, too, that came just before you did, with the +clergyman in it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And where is Frank Muller?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know, missie; but he brought a round tent with him in the +waggon, and it is pitched between the two big gums.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jantje, I must go down there and find out what is going on, and you must +come with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will be caught, missie. There is a sentry at the back of the +waggon-house, and two in front. But,” he added, “perhaps we might +get near. I will go out and look at the night.” +</p> + +<p> +Presently he returned and said that a “small rain” had come on, and +the clouds covered up the stars so that it was very dark. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, let us go at once,” said Jess. +</p> + +<p> +“Missie, you had better not go,” answered the Hottentot. “You +will get wet, and the Boers will catch you. Better let me go. I can creep about +like a snake, and if the Boers catch me it won’t matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must come too, but I am going. I must find out.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the Hottentot shrugged his shoulders and yielded, and, having extinguished +the candle, silently as ghosts they crept out into the night. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap32"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.<br/> +HE SHALL DIE</h2> + +<p> +The night was still and very dark. A soft cold rain, such as often falls in the +Wakkerstroom and New Scotland districts of the Transvaal, and which more +resembles a true north country mist than anything else, was drizzling gently +but persistently. This condition of affairs was as favourable as possible to +their enterprise, and under cover of it the Hottentot and the white girl crept +far down the hill to within twelve or fourteen paces of the back of the +waggon-house. Then Jantje, who was leading, suddenly put back his hand and +checked her, and at that moment Jess caught the sound of a sentry’s +footsteps as he tramped leisurely up and down. For a couple of minutes or so +they stopped thus, not knowing what to do, when suddenly a man came round the +corner of the building holding a lantern in his hand. On seeing the lantern +Jess’s first impulse was to fly, but Jantje by a motion made her +understand that she was to stop still. The man with the lantern advanced +towards the other man, holding the light above his head, and looking dim and +gigantic in the mist and rain. Presently he turned his face, and Jess saw that +it was Frank Muller himself. He stood thus for a moment waiting till the sentry +was near to him. +</p> + +<p> +“You can go to your supper,” he said. “Come back in half an +hour. I will be responsible for the prisoners till then.” +</p> + +<p> +The man growled out an answer something about the rain, and then departed round +the end of the building, followed by Muller. +</p> + +<p> +“Now then, come on,” whispered Jantje; “there is a hole in +the store-room wall, and you may be able to speak to Missie Bessie.” +</p> + +<p> +Jess did not require a second invitation, but slipped up to the wall in five +seconds. Passing her hand over the stone-work she found the air-hole, which she +remembered well, for they used to play bo-peep there as children, and was about +to whisper through it, when suddenly the door at the other end opened, and +Frank Muller entered, bearing the lantern in his hand. For a moment he stood on +the threshold, opening the slide of the lantern in order to increase the light. +His hat was off, and he wore a cape of dark cloth thrown over his shoulders, +which seemed to add to his great breadth. Indeed the thought flashed through +the mind of Jess as she looked at him through the hole, and saw the light +strike upon his face and form, glinting down his golden beard, that he was the +most magnificent specimen of humanity whom she had ever seen. In another +instant he had turned the lantern round and revealed her dear sister Bessie to +her gaze. Bessie lay upon one of the half-empty sacks of mealies, apparently +half asleep, for she opened her wide blue eyes and looked round apprehensively +like one suddenly awakened. Her golden curls were in disorder and falling over +her fair forehead, and her face was very pale and troubled, and marked beneath +the eyes with deep blue lines. Catching sight of her visitor she rose hurriedly +and retreated as far from him as the pile of sacks and potatoes would allow. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” she asked in a low voice. “I gave you my +answer. Why do you come to torment me again?” +</p> + +<p> +He placed the lantern upon an upright sack of mealies, and carefully balanced +it before he answered. Jess could see that he was taking time to consider. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us recapitulate,” he said at length, in his full rich voice. +“The position is this. I gave you this morning the choice between +consenting to marry me to-morrow and seeing your old uncle and benefactor shot. +Further, I assured you that if you would not consent to marry me your uncle +should be shot, and that I would then make you mine, dispensing with the +ceremony of marriage. Is that not so?” +</p> + +<p> +Bessie made no answer, and he continued, his eyes fixed upon her face, and +thoughtfully stroking his beard. +</p> + +<p> +“Silence gives consent. I will go on. Before a man can be shot according +to law he must be tried and condemned according to law. Your uncle has been +tried and has been condemned.” +</p> + +<p> +“I heard it all, cruel murderer that you are,” said Bessie, lifting +her head for the first time. +</p> + +<p> +“So! I thought you would, through the crack. That is why I had you put +into this place; it would not have looked well to bring you before the +court;” and he took the light and examined the crevice. “This wall +is badly built,” he went on in a careless tone; “look, there is +another space there at the back;” and he actually came up to it and held +the lantern close to the airhole in such fashion that its light shone through +into Jess’s eyes and nearly blinded her. She shut them quickly so that +the gleam reflected from them should not betray her, then held her breath and +remained still as the dead. In another second Muller took away the light and +replaced it on the mealie bag. +</p> + +<p> +“So you say you saw it all. Well, it must have shown you that I was in +earnest. The old man took it well, did he not? He is a brave man, and I respect +him. I fancy that he will not move a muscle at the last. That comes of English +blood, you see. It is the best in the world, and I am proud to have it in my +veins.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cannot you stop torturing me, and say what you have to say?” asked +Bessie. +</p> + +<p> +“I had no wish to torture you, but if you like I will come to the point. +It is this. Will you now consent to marry me to-morrow morning at sun-up, or am +I to be forced to carry the sentence on your old uncle into effect?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not. I will not. I hate you and defy you.” +</p> + +<p> +Muller looked at her coldly, and then drew his pocket-book from his pocket and +extracted from it the death-warrant and a pencil. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, Bessie,” he said. “This is your uncle’s +death-warrant. At present it is valueless and informal, for I have not yet +signed, though, as you will see, I have been careful that everybody else +should. If once I place my signature there it cannot be revoked, and the +sentence must be carried into effect. If you persist in your refusal I will +sign it before your eyes;” and he placed the paper on the book and took +the pencil in his right hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you cannot, you cannot be such a fiend,” wailed the wretched +woman, wringing her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“I assure you that you are mistaken. I both can and will. I have gone too +far to turn back for the sake of one old Englishman. Listen, Bessie. Your lover +Niel is dead—that you know.” +</p> + +<p> +Here Jess behind the wall felt inclined to cry out, “it is a lie!” +but, remembering the absolute necessity of silence, she checked herself. +</p> + +<p> +“And what is more,” went on Muller, “your sister Jess is dead +too! she died two days ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jess dead! Jess dead! It is not true. How do you know that she is +dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind; I will tell you when we are married. She is dead, and, +except for your uncle, you are alone in the world. If you persist in this he +will soon be dead too, and his blood will be upon your head, for you will have +murdered him.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if I were to say yes, how would that help him?” she cried +wildly. “He is condemned by your court-martial—you would only +deceive me and murder him after all.” +</p> + +<p> +“On my honour, no. Before the marriage I will give this warrant to the +pastor, and he shall burn it as soon as the service is said. But, Bessie, +don’t you see that these fools who tried your uncle are only like clay in +my hands? I can bend them this way and that, and whatever song I sing they will +echo it. They do not wish to shoot your uncle, and will be glad indeed to get +out of it. Your uncle shall go in safety to Natal, or stay here if he wills. +His property shall be secured to him, and compensation paid for the burning of +his house. I swear it before God.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked up at him, and he could see that she was inclined to believe him. +</p> + +<p> +“It is true, Bessie, it is true—I will rebuild the place myself, +and if I can find the man who fired it he shall be shot. Come, listen to me, +and be reasonable. The man you love is dead, and no amount of sighing can bring +him to your arms. I alone am left—I who love you better than life, better +than man ever loved woman before. Look at me: am I not a proper man for any +maid to wed, though I be half a Boer? And I have the brains, too, Bessie, the +brains that shall make us both great. We were made for each other—I have +known it for years, and slowly, slowly, I have worked my way to you till at +last you are in my reach;” and he stretched out both his arms towards +her. +</p> + +<p> +“My darling,” he went on, in a soft, half-dreamy voice, “my +love and desire, yield, now—yield! Do not force this new crime upon me. I +want to grow good for your sake, and have done with bloodshed. When you are my +wife I believe that the evil will go out of me, and I shall grow good. Yield, +and never shall woman have had such a husband as I will be to you. I will make +your life soft and beautiful to you as women love life to be. You shall have +everything that money can buy and power bring. Yield for your uncle’s +sake, and for the sake of the great love I bear you.” +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke he was slowly drawing nearer Bessie, whose face wore a +half-fascinated expression. As he came the wretched woman gathered herself +together and put out her hand to repulse him. “No, no,” she cried, +“I hate you—I cannot be false to him, living or dead. I shall kill +myself—I know I shall.” +</p> + +<p> +He made no answer, but only came always nearer, till at last his strong arms +closed round her shrinking form and drew her to him as easily as though she +were a babe. And then all at once she seemed to yield. That embrace was the +outward sign of his cruel mastery, and she struggled no more, mentally or +physically. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you marry me, darling—will you marry me?” he whispered, +with his lips so close to the golden curls that Jess, straining her ears +outside, could only just catch the words— +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I suppose so; but I shall die—it will kill me.” +</p> + +<p> +He strained her to his heart and kissed her beautiful face again and again, +until Jess heard the heavy footsteps of the returning sentry, and saw Muller +leave go of her. Then Jantje caught Jess by the hand, dragging her away from +the wall, and presently she was once more ascending the hill-side towards the +Hottentot’s kennel. She had desired to find out how matters stood, and +she had found out indeed. To attempt to portray the fury, the indignation, and +the thirst to be avenged upon this fiend who had attempted to murder her and +her lover, and had bought her dear sister’s honour at the price of their +innocent old uncle’s life, would be impossible. Her weariness had left +her; she was mad with all she had seen and heard, with the knowledge of what +had been done and of what was about to be done. She even forgot her passion in +it, and swore that Muller should never marry Bessie while she lived to prevent +it. Had she been a bad woman herein she might have seen an opportunity, for +Bessie once tied to Muller, John would be free to marry her, but this idea +never even entered her mind. Whatever Jess’s errors may have been she was +a self-sacrificing, honourable woman, and one who would have died rather than +profit thus by circumstance. At length they reached the shelter again and crept +into it. +</p> + +<p> +“Light a candle,” said Jess. +</p> + +<p> +Jantje hunted for and struck a match. The piece of candle they had been using, +however, was nearly burnt out, so from the rubbish in the corner he produced a +box full of “ends,” some of them three or four inches long. In the +queer sort of way that trifles do strike us when the mind is undergoing a +severe strain, Jess remembered instantly that for years she had been unable to +discover what became of the odd bits of the candles used in the house. Now the +mystery was explained. +</p> + +<p> +“Go outside and leave me. I want to think,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +The Hottentot obeyed, and seated upon the heap of skins, her forehead resting +on her hand and her fingers buried in her silky rain-soaked hair, Jess began to +review the position. It was evident to her that Frank Muller would be as good +as his word. She knew him too well to doubt this for a moment. If Bessie did +not marry him he would murder the old man, as he had tried to murder herself +and John, only this time judicially, and then abduct her sister afterwards. She +was the only price that he was prepared to take in exchange for her +uncle’s life. But it was impossible to allow Bessie to be so sacrificed; +the thought was horrible to her. +</p> + +<p> +How, then, was it to be prevented? +</p> + +<p> +She thought again of confronting Frank Muller and openly accusing him of her +attempted murder, only, however, to dismiss the idea. Who would believe her? +And if they did believe what good would it do? She would only be imprisoned and +kept out of harm’s way, or possibly murdered out of hand. Then she +thought of attempting to communicate with her uncle and Bessie, to tell them +that John was, so far as she knew, alive, only to recognise the impossibility +of doing so now that the sentry had returned. Besides, what object could be +served? The knowledge that John was alive might, it is true, encourage Bessie +to resist Muller, but then the death of the old man must certainly ensue. +Dismissing this project from her mind Jess began to consider whether they could +obtain assistance. Alas! it was impossible. The only people from whom she could +hope for aid would be the natives, and now that the Boers had triumphed over +the English—for this much she had gathered from her captors and from +Jantje—it was very doubtful if the Kafirs would dare to assist her. +Besides, at the best it would take twenty-four hours to collect a force, and by +then help would come too late. The situation was hopeless. Nowhere could she +see a ray of light. +</p> + +<p> +“What,” Jess said aloud to herself—“what is there in +the world that will stop a man like Frank Muller?” +</p> + +<p> +And then of an instant the answer rose up in her brain as though by +inspiration— +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Death!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +Death, and death alone, would stay him. For a minute she held the idea in her +mind till she grew familiar with it, then it was driven out by another thought +that followed swiftly on its track. Frank Muller must die, and die before the +morning light. By no other possible means could the Gordian knot be cut, and +both Bessie and her old uncle be saved. If he were dead he could not marry +Bessie, and if he died with the warrant unsigned their uncle could not be +executed. That was the terrible answer to her riddle. +</p> + +<p> +Yet it was most just that he should die, for had he not murdered and attempted +murder? Surely if ever a man deserved a swift and awful doom that man was Frank +Muller. +</p> + +<p> +And so this forsaken, helpless girl, crouching upon the ground a torn and +bespattered fugitive in the miserable hiding-hole of a Hottentot, arraigned the +powerful leader of men before the tribunal of her conscience, and without pity, +if without wrath, passed upon him a sentence of extinction. +</p> + +<p> +But who was to be the executioner? A dreadful thought flashed into her mind and +made her heart stand still, but she dismissed it. No, she had not come to that! +Her eyes wandering round the kennel lit upon Jantje’s assegais and sticks +in the corner, and these gave her another inspiration. Jantje should do the +deed. +</p> + +<p> +John had told her one day when they were sitting together in “The +Palatial” at Pretoria the whole of Jantje’s awful story about the +massacre of his relatives by Frank Muller twenty years before, of which, +indeed, she already knew something. It would be most fitting that this fiend +should be removed from the face of the earth by the survivor of those +unfortunates. That would be poetic justice, and justice is so rare in the +world. But the question was, would he do it? The little man was a wonderful +coward, that she knew, and had a great terror of Boers, and especially of Frank +Muller. +</p> + +<p> +“Jantje,” she whispered, stooping towards the bee-hole. +</p> + +<p> +“Yah, missie,” answered a hoarse voice outside, and next second the +Hottentot’s monkey-like face came creeping into the ring of light, +followed by his even more monkey-like form. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down there, Jantje. I am lonely here and want to talk.” +</p> + +<p> +He obeyed her, with a grin. “What shall we talk about, missie? Shall I +tell you a story of the time when the beasts could speak, as I used to do years +and years ago?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Jantje. Tell me about that stick—that long stick with a knob +at the top, and the nicks cut on it. Has it not something to do with Frank +Muller?” +</p> + +<p> +The Hottentot’s face instantly grew evil. “Yah, yah, missie!” +he said, reaching out a skinny claw and seizing the stick. “Look, this +big notch, that is my father, Baas Frank shot him; and this next notch, that is +my mother, Baas Frank shot her; and this next notch, that is my uncle, an old, +old man, Baas Frank shot him also. And these small notches, they are when he +has beaten me—yes, and other things too. And now I will make more +notches, one for the house that is burnt, and one for the old Baas Croft, my +own Baas, whom he is going to shoot, and one for Missie Bessie.” And +Jantje drew from his side his large white-handled hunting-knife and began to +cut them then and there upon the hard wood of the stick. +</p> + +<p> +Jess knew this knife of old. It was Jantje’s peculiar treasure, the chief +joy of his narrow little heart. He had brought it from a Zulu for a heifer +which her uncle had given him in lieu of half a year’s wage. The Zulu had +it from a half-caste whose kraal was beyond Delagoa Bay. As a matter of fact it +was a Somali knife, manufactured from the soft native steel which takes an edge +like a razor, and with a handle cut out of the tusk of a hippopotamus. For the +rest, it was about a foot long, with three grooves running the length of the +blade, and very heavy. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop cutting notches, Jantje, and let me look at that knife.” +</p> + +<p> +He obeyed, and put it into her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“That knife would kill a man, Jantje,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” he answered: “no doubt it has killed many +men.” +</p> + +<p> +“It would kill Frank Muller, now, would it not?” she went on, +suddenly bending forward and fixing her dark eyes upon the little man’s +jaundiced orbs. +</p> + +<p> +“Yah, yah,” he said starting back, “it would kill him dead. +Ah! what a thing it would be to kill him!” he added, making a fierce +sound, half grunt, half laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“He killed your father, Jantje.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yah, yah, he killed my father,” said Jantje, his eyes beginning to +roll with rage. +</p> + +<p> +“He killed your mother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yah, he killed my mother,” he repeated after her with eager +ferocity. +</p> + +<p> +“And your uncle. He killed your uncle.” +</p> + +<p> +“And my uncle too,” he went on, shaking his fist and twitching his +long toes as his hoarse voice rose to a subdued scream. “But he will die +in blood—the old Englishwoman, his mother, said it when the devil was in +her, and the devils never lie. Look! I draw Baas Frank’s circle in the +dust with my foot; and listen, I say the words—I say the words,” +and he muttered something rapidly; “an old, old witch-doctor taught me +how to do it, and what to say. Once before I did it, and there was a stone in +the circle, now there is no stone: look, <i>the ends meet</i>. He will die in +blood; he will die <i>soon</i>. I know how to read the omen;” and he +gnashed his teeth and sawed the air with his clenched fists. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you are right, Jantje,” she said, still holding him with her +dark eyes. “He will die in blood, and he will die to-night, and +<i>you</i> will kill him, Jantje.” +</p> + +<p> +The Hottentot started, and turned pale under his yellow skin. +</p> + +<p> +“How?” he said; “how?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bend forward, Jantje, and I will tell you how;” and Jess whispered +for some minutes into his ear. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes! yes! yes!” he said when she had done. “Oh, what a fine +thing it is to be clever like the white people! I will kill him to-night, and +then I can cut out the notches, and the spooks of my father and my mother and +my uncle will stop howling round me in the dark as they do now, when I am +asleep.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap33"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.<br/> +VENGEANCE</h2> + +<p> +For three or four minutes more Jess and Jantje whispered together, after which +the Hottentot rose and crept away to find out what was passing among the Boers +below, and watch when Frank Muller retired to his tent. So soon as he had +marked him down it was agreed that he was to come back and report to Jess. +</p> + +<p> +When he was gone Jess gave a sigh of relief. This stirring up of Jantje to the +boiling-point of vengeance had been a dreadful thing to nerve herself to do, +but now at any rate it was done, and Muller’s doom was sealed. But what +the end of it would be none could say. Practically she would be a murderess, +and she felt that sooner or later her guilt must find her out, and then she +could hope for little mercy. Still she had no scruples, for after all Frank +Muller’s would be a well-merited fate. But when all was said and done, it +was a dreadful thing to be forced to steep her hands in blood, even for +Bessie’s sake. If Muller were removed Bessie would marry John, provided +that John escaped the Boers, and be happy, but what would become of herself? +Robbed of her love and with this crime upon her mind, what could she do even if +she escaped—except die? It would be better to die and never see him +again, for her sorrow and her shame were more than she could bear. Then Jess +began to think of John till all her poor bruised heart seemed to go out towards +him. Bessie could never love him as she did, she felt sure of that, and yet +Bessie was to have him by her all her life, and she—she must go away. +Well, it was the only thing to do. She would see this deed done, and set her +sister free, then if she happened to escape she would go at once—go quite +away where she would never be heard of again. Thus at any rate she would have +behaved like an honourable woman. She sat up and put her hands to her face. It +was burning hot though she was wet through, and chilled to the bone with the +raw damp of the night. A fierce fever of mind and body had taken hold of her, +worn out as she was with emotion, hunger, and protracted exposure. But her +brain was clear enough; she never remembered its being so clear before. Every +thought that came into her mind seemed to present itself with startling +strength, standing out alone against a black background of nothingness, not +softened down and shaded one into another as thoughts generally are. She seemed +to see herself wandering away—alone, utterly alone, alone for +ever!—while in the far distance John stood holding Bessie by the hand, +gazing after her regretfully. Well, she would write to him, since it must be +so, and bid him one word of farewell. She could not go without that, though how +her letter was to reach John she knew not, unless indeed Jantje could find him +and deliver it. She had a pencil, and in the breast of her dress was the Boer +pass, the back of which, stained as it was with water, would serve the purpose +of paper. She found it, and, bending forward towards the light, placed it on +her knees. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye,” she wrote, “good-bye! We can never meet again, +and it is better that we never should in this world. I believe that there is +another. If there is I shall wait for you there if I have to wait ten thousand +years. If not, then good-bye for ever. Think of me sometimes, for I have loved +you very dearly, and as nobody will ever love you again; and while I live in +this or any other existence and am myself, I shall always love you and you +only. Don’t forget me. I never shall be really dead to you until I am +forgotten.—J.” +</p> + +<p> +She lifted the paper from her knee, and without even re-reading what she had +written thrust the pass back into her bosom and was soon lost in thought. +</p> + +<p> +Ten minutes later Jantje, like a great snake in human form, came creeping in to +where she sat, his yellow face shining with the raindrops. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” whispered Jess, looking up with a start, “have you +done it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, missie, no. Baas Frank has but now gone to his tent. He has been +talking to the clergyman, something about Missie Bessie, I don’t know +what. I was near, but he talked low, and I could only hear the name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are all the Boers asleep?” +</p> + +<p> +“All, missie, except the sentries.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there a sentry before Baas Frank’s tent?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, missie, there is nobody near.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is the time, Jantje?” +</p> + +<p> +“About three hours and a half after sundown” (half-past ten). +</p> + +<p> +“Let us wait half an hour, and then you must go.” +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly they sat in silence. In silence they sat facing each other and +their own thoughts. Presently Jantje broke it by drawing the big white-handled +knife and commencing to sharpen it on a piece of leather. +</p> + +<p> +The sight made Jess feel sick. “Put the knife up,” she said +quickly, “it is sharp enough.” +</p> + +<p> +Jantje obeyed with a feeble grin, and the minutes passed on heavily. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Jantje,” she said at last, speaking huskily in her struggle +to overcome the spasmodic contractions of her throat, “it is time for you +to go.” +</p> + +<p> +The Hottentot fidgeted about, and at last spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Missie must come with me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Come with you!” answered Jess starting, “why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because the ghost of the old Englishwoman will be after me if I go +alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“You fool!” said Jess angrily; then recollecting herself she added, +“Come, be a man, Jantje; think of your father and mother, and be a +man.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am a man,” he answered sulkily, “and I will kill him like +a man, but what good is a man against the ghost of a dead Englishwoman? If I +put the knife into her she would only make faces, and fire would come out of +the hole. I will not go without you, missie.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must go,” she said fiercely; “you shall go!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, missie, I will not go alone,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +Jess looked at him and saw that Jantje meant what he said. He was growing +sulky, and the worst dispositioned donkey in the world is far, far easier to +deal with than a sulky Hottentot. She must either give up the project or go +with the man. Well, she was equally guilty one way or the other, and being +almost callous about detection, she might as well go. She had no power left to +make fresh plans. Her mind seemed to be exhausted. Only she must keep out of +the way at the last. She could not bear to be near then. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she said, “I will go with you, Jantje.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good, missie, that is all right now. You can keep off the ghost of the +dead Englishwoman while I kill Baas Frank. But first he must be fast asleep. +Fast, fast asleep.” +</p> + +<p> +Then slowly and with the uttermost caution once more they crept down the hill. +This time there was no sound to be heard except the regular tramp of the +sentries. But their present business did not take them to the waggon-house; +they left that on their right, and went on towards the blue-gum avenue. When +they were nearly opposite to the first tree they halted in a patch of stones, +and Jantje slipped forward to reconnoitre. Presently he returned with the +intelligence that all the Boers who were with the waggon had gone to sleep, but +that Muller was still sitting in his tent thinking. Then they crept on, +perfectly sure that if they were not heard they would not be seen, curtained as +they were by the dense mist and darkness. +</p> + +<p> +At length they reached the bole of the first big gum tree. Five paces from this +tree Frank Muller’s tent was pitched. There was a light in it which +caused the wet tent to glow in the mist, as though it had been rubbed with +phosphorus, and on this lurid canvas the shadow of Frank Muller was +gigantically limned. He was so placed that the lamp cast a magnified reflection +of his every feature and even of his expression upon the screen before them. +The attitude in which he sat was his favourite one when he was plunged in +thought, his hands resting on his knees and his gaze fixed on vacancy. He was +thinking of his triumph, and of all that he had gone through to win it, and of +all that it would bring him. He held the trump cards now, and the game lay in +his own hand. He had triumphed, and yet over him hung the shadow of that curse +which dogs the presence of our accomplished desires. Too often, even with the +innocent, does the seed of our destruction lurk in the rich blossom of our +hopes, and much more is this so with the guilty. Somehow this thought was +present with him to-night, and in a rough half-educated way he grasped its +truth. Once more the saying of the old Boer general rose in his mind: “I +believe that there is a God—I believe that God sets a limit to a +man’s doings. If he is going too far, God <i>kills him</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +What a dreadful thing it would be if the old fool were right after all! +Supposing that there were a God, and God were to kill him to-night, and hurry +off his soul, if he had one, to some dim place of unending fear! All his +superstitions awoke at the thought, and he shivered so violently that the +shadow of the shiver caused the outlines of the gigantic form upon the canvas +to tremble visibly. +</p> + +<p> +Then rising with an angry curse, Muller hastily threw off his outer clothing, +and having turned down but not extinguished the rough parrafine lamp, he flung +himself down upon the little camp bedstead, which creaked and groaned beneath +his weight like a thing in pain. +</p> + +<p> +Now came silence, only broken by the drip, drip of the rain from the gum leaves +overhead, and the rattling of the boughs whenever a breath of air stirred them. +It was an eerie and depressing night, a night that might well have tried the +nerves of any strong man who, wet through and worn out, was obliged to crouch +upon the open veldt and endure it. How much more awful was it then to the +unfortunate woman who, half broken-hearted, fever-stricken, and well-nigh +crazed with the suffering of mind and body, waited in it to see murder done! +Slowly the minutes passed, and at every raindrop or rustle of a bough her +guilty conscience summoned up a host of fears. But by the mere power of her +will she kept them down. She would go through with it. Yes, she would go +through with it. Surely he must be asleep by now! +</p> + +<p> +They crept up to the tent and placed their ears within two inches of his head. +Yes, he was asleep; the sound of his breathing rose and fell with the +regularity of an infant’s. +</p> + +<p> +Jess turned round and touched her companion upon the shoulder. He did not move, +but she felt that his arm was shaking. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Now</i>,” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +Still he hung back. It was evident to her that the long waiting had taken the +courage out of him. +</p> + +<p> +“Be a man,” she whispered again, so low that the sound scarcely +reached his ears although her lips were almost touching them, “go, and +mind you strike home!” +</p> + +<p> +Then at last she heard him softly draw the great knife from the sheath, and in +another second he had glided from her side. Presently she saw the line of light +that streamed upon the darkness through the opening of the tent broaden a +little, and by this she knew that he was creeping in upon his dreadful errand. +Then she turned her head and put her fingers in her ears. But even so she could +see a long line of shadow travelling across the skirt of the tent. So she shut +her eyes also, and waited sick at heart, for she did not dare to move. +</p> + +<p> +Presently—it might have been five minutes or only half a minute +afterwards, for she had lost count of time—Jess felt somebody touch her +on the arm. It was Jantje. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Is it done?</i>” she whispered again. +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head and drew her away from the tent. In going her foot caught one +of the guy-ropes and stirred it slightly. +</p> + +<p> +“I could not do it, missie,” he said. “He is asleep and looks +just like a child. When I lifted the knife he smiled in his sleep and all the +strength went out of my arm, so that I could not strike. And then before I grew +strong again the spook of the old Englishwoman came and hit me in the back, and +I ran away.” +</p> + +<p> +If a look could have blasted a human being Jantje would assuredly have been +blasted then. The man’s cowardice maddened Jess, but whilst she still +choked with wrath a duiker buck, which had come down from its stony home to +feed upon the rose-bushes, suddenly sprang with a crash almost from their feet, +passing away like a grey gleam into the utter darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Jess started, then recovered herself, guessing what it was, but the miserable +Hottentot, overcome with terror, fell upon the ground groaning out that it was +the spook of the old Englishwoman. He had dropped the knife as he fell, and +Jess, seeing the imminent peril in which they were placed, knelt down, found +it, and hissed into his ear that if he were not quiet she would kill him. +</p> + +<p> +This pacified him a little, but no earthly power could persuade him to enter +the tent again. +</p> + +<p> +What was to be done? What could she do? For two minutes or more she buried her +face in her wet hands and thought wildly and despairingly. +</p> + +<p> +Then a dark and dreadful determination entered her mind. The man Muller should +not escape. Bessie should not be sacrificed to him. Rather than that, she would +do the deed herself. +</p> + +<p> +Without a word she rose, animated by the tragic agony of her purpose and the +force of her despair, and glided towards the tent, the great knife in her hand. +Now, ah! all too soon, she was inside of it, and stood for a second to allow +her eyes to grow accustomed to the light. Presently she began to see, first the +outline of the bed, then the outline of the manly form stretched upon it, then +both bed and man distinctly. Jantje had said that he was sleeping like a child. +He might have been; now he was <i>not</i>. On the contrary, his face was +convulsed like the face of one in an extremity of fear, and great beads of +sweat stood upon his brow. It was as though he knew his danger, and yet was +utterly powerless to avoid it. He lay upon his back. One heavy arm, his left, +hung over the side of the bed, the knuckles of the hand resting on the ground; +the other was thrown back, and his head was pillowed upon it. The clothing had +slipped away from his throat and massive chest, which were quite bare. +</p> + +<p> +Jess stood and gazed. “For Bessie’s sake, for Bessie’s +sake!” she murmured; then impelled by a force that seemed to move of +itself she crept slowly, slowly, to the right-hand side of the bed. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment Muller woke, and his opening eyes fell full upon her face. +Whatever his dream had been, what he now saw was far more terrible, for bending +over him was the <i>ghost of the woman he had murdered in the Vaal!</i> There +she was, risen from her river grave, torn, dishevelled, water yet dripping from +her hands and hair. Those sunk and marble cheeks, those dreadful flaming eyes +could belong to no human being, but only to a spirit. It was the spirit of Jess +Croft, of the woman whom he had slain, come back to tell him that there +<i>was</i> a living vengeance and a hell! +</p> + +<p> +Their eyes met, and no creature will ever know the agony of terror that he +tasted of before the end came. She saw his face sink in and turn ashen grey +while the cold sweat ran from every pore. He was awake, but fear paralysed him, +he could not speak or move. +</p> + +<p> +He was awake, and she could hesitate no more. . . . +</p> + +<p> +He must have seen the flash of the falling steel, and—— +</p> + +<p> +Jess was outside the tent again, the red knife in her hand. She flung the +accursed thing from her. That shriek must have awakened every soul within a +mile. Already she could faintly hear the stir of men down by the waggon, and +the patter of the feet of Jantje running for his life. +</p> + +<p> +Then she too turned, and fled straight up the hill. She knew not whither, she +cared not where! None saw her or followed her, the hunt had broken away to the +left after Jantje. Her heart was lead and her brain a rocking sea of fire, +whilst before her, around her, and behind her yelled all the conscience-created +furies that run Murder to his lair. +</p> + +<p> +On she flew, one sight only before her eyes, one sound only in her ears. On +over the hill, far into the rain and the night! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap34"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.<br/> +TANTA COETZEE TO THE RESCUE</h2> + +<p> +After Jess had been set free by the Boers outside Hans Coetzee’s place, +John was sharply ordered to dismount and off-saddle his horse. This he did with +the best grace that he could muster, and the horse was knee-haltered and let +loose to feed. It was then indicated to him that he was to enter the house, and +this he also did, closely attended by two of the Boers. The room into which he +was conducted was the same that he had first become acquainted with, on the +occasion of the buck hunt that had so nearly ended in his murder. There was the +Buckenhout table, and there were the stools and couches made of stinkwood. +Also, in the biggest chair at the other end of the room, a moderate-sized +slop-basin full of coffee by her side, sat Tanta Coetzee, still actively +employed in doing absolutely nothing. There, too, were the showily dressed +maidens, there was the sardonic lover of one of them, and all the posse of +young men with rifles. The <i>sit-kammer</i> and its characteristics were quite +unchanged, and on entering it John felt inclined to rub his eyes and wonder +whether the events of the last few months had been nothing but a dream. +</p> + +<p> +The only thing that had changed was his welcome. Evidently he was not expected +to shake hands all round on the present occasion. Fallen indeed would that Boer +have been considered who, within a few days of Majuba, offered to shake hands +with a wretched English <i>rooibaatje</i>, picked up like a lame buck on the +veldt. At the least he would have kept the ceremony for private celebration, if +only out of respect to the feelings of others. On this occasion John’s +entry was received in icy silence. The old woman did not deign to look up, the +young ones shrugged their shoulders and turned their backs, as though they had +suddenly seen something that was not nice. Only the countenance of the sardonic +lover softened to a grin. +</p> + +<p> +John walked to the end of the room where there was a vacant chair and stood by +it. +</p> + +<p> +“Have I your permission to sit down, ma’am?” he said at last +in a loud tone, addressing the old lady. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear Lord!” said the old lady to the man next to her, “what +a voice the poor creature has! it is like a bull’s. What does he +say?” +</p> + +<p> +The man explained. +</p> + +<p> +“The floor is the right place for Englishmen and Kafirs,” said the +old lady, “but after all he is a man, and perhaps sore with riding. +Englishmen always get sore when they try to ride.” Then with startling +energy she shouted out: +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Sit!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“I will show the <i>rooibaatje</i> that he is not the only one with a +voice,” she added by way of explanation. +</p> + +<p> +A subdued sniggle followed this sally of wit, during which John took his seat +with such native grace as he could command, which at the moment was not much. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me!” she went on presently, for she was a bit of a humorist, +“he looks very dirty and pale, doesn’t he? I suppose the poor thing +has been hiding in the ant-bear holes with nothing to eat. I am told that up in +the Drakensberg yonder the ant-bear holes are full of Englishmen. They had +rather starve in them than come out, for fear lest they should meet a +Boer.” +</p> + +<p> +This provoked another snigger, and then the young ladies took up the ball. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you hungry, <i>rooibaatje</i>?” asked one in English. +</p> + +<p> +John was boiling with fury, but he was also starving, so he answered that he +was. +</p> + +<p> +“Tie his hands behind him, and let us see if he can catch in his mouth, +like a dog,” suggested a gentle youth. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no; make him eat pap with a wooden spoon, like a Kafir,” said +another. “I will feed him—if you have a very long spoon.” +</p> + +<p> +Here again was legitimate cause for merriment, but in the end matters were +compromised by a lump of biltong and a piece of bread being thrown to John from +the other end of the room. He caught them and began to eat, trying to conceal +his ravenous hunger as much as possible from the circle of onlookers who +clustered round to watch the operation. +</p> + +<p> +“Carolus,” said the old lady to the sardonic affianced of her +daughter, “there are three thousand men in the British army.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my aunt.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are three thousand men in the British army,” she repeated, +looking round angrily as though somebody had questioned the truth of her +statement. “I tell you that my grandfather’s brother was at Cape +Town in the time of Governor Smith, and he counted the whole British army, and +there were three thousand of them.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is so, my aunt,” answered Carolus. +</p> + +<p> +“Then why did you contradict me, Carolus?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not intend to, my aunt.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should hope not, Carolus; it would vex the dear Lord to see a boy with +a squint” (Carolus was slightly afflicted in this way) “contradict +his future mother-in-law. Tell me how many Englishmen were killed at +Laing’s Nek?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nine hundred,” replied Carolus promptly. +</p> + +<p> +“And at Ingogo?” +</p> + +<p> +“Six hundred and twenty.” +</p> + +<p> +“And at Majuba?” +</p> + +<p> +“One thousand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then that makes two thousand five hundred men; yes, and the rest were +finished at Bronker’s Spruit. Nephews, that <i>rooibaatje</i> +there,” pointing to John, “is one of the last men left in the +British army.” +</p> + +<p> +Most of her audience appeared to accept this argument as conclusive, but some +mischievous spirit put it into the breast of the saturnine Carolus to +contradict her, notwithstanding the lesson he had just received. +</p> + +<p> +“That is not so, my aunt; there are many damned Englishmen still sneaking +about the Nek, and also at Pretoria and Wakkerstroom.” +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you it is a lie,” said the old lady, raising her voice, +“they are only Kafirs and camp-followers. There were three thousand men +in the British army, and now they are all killed except that <i>rooibaatje</i>. +How dare you contradict your future mother-in-law, you dirty squint-eyed, +yellow-faced monkey? There, take that!” and before the unfortunate +Carolus knew where he was, he received the slop-basin with its contents full in +the face. The bowl broke upon the bridge of his nose, and the coffee flew all +about him, into his eyes and hair, down his throat and over his body, making +such a spectacle of him as must have been seen to be appreciated. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” went on the old lady, much soothed and gratified by the +eminent and startling success of her shot, “never you say again that I +don’t know how to throw a basin of coffee. I haven’t practised at +my man Hans for thirty years for nothing, I can tell you. Now you, Carolus, I +have taught you not to contradict; go and wash your face and we will have +supper.” +</p> + +<p> +Carolus ventured no reply, and was led away by his betrothed half blinded and +utterly subdued, while her sister set the table for the evening meal. When it +was ready the men sat down to meat and the women waited on them. John was not +asked to join them, but one of the girls threw him a boiled mealiecob, for +which, being still very hungry, he was duly grateful, and afterwards he managed +to secure a mutton bone and another bit of bread. +</p> + +<p> +When supper was over, some bottles of peach brandy were produced, and the Boers +began to drink freely, and then it was that matters commenced to look dangerous +for the Englishman. Suddenly one of the men remembered about the young fellow +whom John had thrown backwards off the horse, and who was lying very sick in +the next room, and suggested that measures of retaliation should be taken, +which would undoubtedly have been done if the elderly Boer who had commanded +the party had not interposed. This man was getting drunk like the others, but +fortunately for John he grew amiably drunk. +</p> + +<p> +“Let him alone,” he said, “let him alone. We will send him to +the commandant to-morrow. Frank Muller will know how to deal with him.” +</p> + +<p> +John thought to himself that he certainly would. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, for myself,” the man went on with a hiccough, “I bear +no malice. We have thrashed the British and they have given up the country, so +let bygones be bygones, I say. Almighty, yes! I am not proud, not I. If an +Englishman takes off his hat to me I shall acknowledge it.” +</p> + +<p> +This staved the fellows off for a while, but presently John’s protector +went away, and then the others became playful. They took their rifles and +amused themselves with levelling them at him, and making sham bets as to where +they would hit him. John, seeing the emergency, backed his chair well into the +corner of the wall and drew his revolver, which fortunately for himself he +still had. +</p> + +<p> +“If any man interferes with me, by God, I’ll shoot him!” he +said in good English, which they did not fail to understand. Undoubtedly as the +evening went on it was only the possession of this revolver and his evident +determination to use it that saved his life. +</p> + +<p> +At last things grew very bad indeed, so bad that John found it absolutely +necessary to keep his eyes continually fixed, now on one and now on another, to +prevent their putting a bullet through him unawares. He had twice appealed to +the old woman, but she sat in her big chair with a sweet smile upon her fat +face and refused to interfere. It is not every day that a Boer <i>frau</i> has +the chance of seeing a real live English <i>rooibaatje</i> baited like an +ant-bear on the flat. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, just as John in desperation was making up his mind to begin shooting +right and left, and take his chance of cutting his way out, the saturnine +Carolus, whose temper had never recovered the bowl of coffee, and who was +besides very drunk, rushed forward with an oath and dealt a tremendous blow at +him with the butt-end of his rifle. John dodged the blow, which fell upon the +back of the chair and smashed it to bits, and in another second Carolus’s +gentle soul would have departed to a better sphere, had not the old +<i>frau</i>, seeing that the game had gone beyond a joke, waddled down the room +with marvellous activity and thrown herself between them. +</p> + +<p> +“There, there,” she said, cuffing right and left with her fat +fists, “be off with you, every one. I can’t have this noise going +on here. Come, off you all go, and get the horses into the stable; they will be +right away by morning if you trust them to the Kafirs.” +</p> + +<p> +Carolus collapsed, and the other men also hesitated and drew back, whereupon, +following up her advantage, the old woman, to John’s astonishment and +relief, bundled the whole tribe of them bodily out of the front door. +</p> + +<p> +“Now then, <i>rooibaatje</i>,” said the old lady briskly when they +had gone, “I like you because you are a brave man, and were not afraid +when they mobbed you. Also, I don’t want to have a mess made upon my +floor here, or any noise or shooting. If those men come back and find you here +they will first get rather drunker and then kill you, so you had better be off +while you have the chance,” and she pointed to the door. +</p> + +<p> +“I really am much obliged to you, my aunt,” said John, utterly +astonished to find that she possessed a heart at all, and more or less had been +playing a part throughout the evening. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, as to that,” she said drily, “it would be a great pity +to kill the last English <i>rooibaatje</i> in the whole British army; they +ought to keep you as a curiosity. Here, take a tot of brandy before you go; it +is a wet night, and sometimes when you are clear of the Transvaal and remember +this business, remember, too, that you owe your life to Tanta Coetzee. But I +would not have saved you, not I, if you had not been so plucky. I like a man to +be a man, and not like that miserable monkey Carolus. There, be off!” +</p> + +<p> +John poured out and swallowed half a tumblerful of the brandy, and in another +moment he was outside the house and had slipped off into the night. It was very +dark and wet, for the rain-clouds had covered up the moon, and he soon learned +that any attempt to look for his horse would end in failure and probably in his +recapture. The only thing to do was to get away on foot in the direction of +Mooifontein as quickly as he could; so off he went down the track across the +veldt as fast as his stiff legs would take him. He had a ten miles’ +trudge before him, and with that cheerful acquiescence in circumstances over +which he had no control which was one of his characteristics, he set to work to +make the best of it. For the first hour or so all went well, then to his +intense disgust he discovered that he was off the track, a fact at which +anybody who has ever had the pleasure of wandering along a so-called road on +the African veldt on a dark night will scarcely be surprised. +</p> + +<p> +After wasting a quarter of an hour or more in a vain attempt to find the path, +John struck out boldly for a dim mass that loomed in the distance, and which he +took to be Mooifontein Hill. And so it was, only instead of keeping to the +left, where he would have arrived at the house, or rather where the house had +stood, unwittingly he bore to the right, and thus went half round the hill +before he found out his mistake. Nor would he have discovered it then had he +not chanced in the mist and darkness to turn into the mouth of the great gorge +known as Leeuwen Kloof, where once, months ago, he had had an interesting talk +with Jess just before she went to Pretoria. It was whilst he was blundering and +stumbling up this gorge that at length the rain ceased and the moon revealed +herself, it being then nearly midnight. Her very first rays lit upon one of the +extraordinary pillars of balanced boulders, and by it he recognised the +locality. As may be imagined, strong man though he was, by this time John was +quite exhausted. For nearly a week he had been travelling incessantly, and for +the last two nights he had not only not slept, but also had endured much mental +excitement and bodily peril. Were it not for the brandy that Tanta Coetzee gave +him he could never have tramped the fifteen miles or so of ground which he had +covered. Now he was quite broken down, and felt that the only thing which he +could do, wet through as he was, would be to lie down somewhere, and sleep or +die as the case might be. Then it was that he remembered the little cave near +the top of the Kloof, the same from which Jess had watched the thunder-storm. +He had visited it once with Bessie after their engagement, and she had told him +that it was one of her sister’s favourite haunts. +</p> + +<p> +If he could but reach the cave at any rate he would find shelter and a dry +place to lie in. It could not be more than three hundred yards away. So he +struggled on bravely through the wet grass and over the scattered boulders, +till at last he came to the base of the huge column that had been shattered by +the lightning before Jess’s eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Thirty paces more and John was in the cave. +</p> + +<p> +With a sigh of utter exhaustion he flung himself down upon the rocky floor, and +almost instantly was buried in a profound sleep. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap35"></a>CHAPTER XXXV.<br/> +THE CONCLUSION OF THE MATTER</h2> + +<p> +When the rain ceased and the moon began to shine, Jess was still fleeing like a +wild thing across the plain on the top of the mountain. She felt no sense of +exhaustion now or even of weariness; her only idea was to get away, right away +somewhere, where she could lose herself and nobody would ever see her again. +Presently she reached the top of Leeuwen Kloof, and recognising the spot in a +bewildered way she began to descend it. Here was a place where she might lie +till she died, for no one ever came there, except now and again some wandering +Kafir herd. On she sprang, from rock to rock, a wild and eerie figure, well in +keeping with the solemn and titanic sadness of the place. +</p> + +<p> +Twice she fell, once right into the stream, but she took no heed, she did not +even seem to feel it. At last she was at the bottom, now creeping like a black +dot across the wide spaces of moonlight, and now swallowed up in the shadow. +There before her gaped the mouth of the little cave; her strength was leaving +her at last, and she was fain to crawl into it, broken-hearted, crazed, +and—<i>dying</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, God forgive me! God forgive me!” she moaned as she sank upon +the rocky floor. “Bessie, I sinned against you, but I have washed away my +sin. I did it for you, Bessie love, not for myself. I had rather have died than +kill him for myself. You will marry John now, and you will never, never know +what I did for you. I am going to die. I know that. I am dying. Oh, if only I +could see his face once more before I die—before I die!” +</p> + +<p> +Slowly the westering moonlight crept down the blackness of the rock. Now at +last it peeped into the little cave and played upon John’s sleeping face +lying within six feet of her. Her prayer had been granted; there was her lover +by her side. +</p> + +<p> +With a start and a great sigh of doubt she recognised him. Was it a vision? Was +he dead? She dragged herself to him upon her hands and knees and listened for +his breathing, if perchance he still breathed and was not a wraith. Then it +came, strong and slow, the breath of a man in deep sleep. +</p> + +<p> +So he lived. Should she try to wake him? What for? To tell him she was a +murderess and then to let him see her die? For instinct told her that nature +was exhausted; and she knew that she was certainly going—going fast. No, +a hundred times no! +</p> + +<p> +Only she put her hand into her breast, and drawing out the pass on the back of +which she had written her last message to him, she thrust it between his +listless fingers. It should speak for her. Then she leant over him, and watched +his sleeping face, a very incarnation of infinite, despairing tenderness, and +love that is deeper than the grave. And as she watched, gradually her feet and +legs grew cold and numb, till at length she could feel nothing below her bosom. +She was dead nearly to the heart. Well, it was better so! +</p> + +<p> +The rays of the moon faded slowly from the level of the little cave, and +John’s face grew dark to her darkening sight. She bent down and kissed +him once—twice—thrice. +</p> + +<p> +At last the end came. There was a great flashing of light before her eyes, and +within her ears the roaring as of a thousand seas, and her head sank gently on +her lover’s breast as on a pillow; and there Jess died and passed upward +towards the wider life and larger liberty, or, at the least, downward into the +depths of rest. +</p> + +<p> +Poor dark-eyed, deep-hearted Jess! This was the fruition of her love, and this +her bridal bed. +</p> + +<p> +It was done. She had gone, taking with her the secret of her self-sacrifice and +crime, and the night-winds moaning amidst the rocks sang their requiem over +her. Here she first had learned her love, and here she closed its book on +earth. +</p> + +<p> +She might have been a great and a good woman. She might even have been a happy +woman. But fate had ordained it otherwise. Women such as Jess are rarely happy +in the world. It is not worldly wise to stake all one’s fortune on a +throw, and lack the craft to load the dice. Well, her troubles are done with. +Think gently of her and let her pass in peace! +</p> + +<p> +The hours grew on towards the evening, but John, the dead face of the woman he +had loved still pillowed on his breast, neither dreamed nor woke. There was a +strange and dreadful irony in the situation, an irony which sometimes finds its +counterpart in our waking life, but still the man slept, and the dead girl lay +till the night turned into the morning and the earth woke up as usual. The +sunbeams slid into the cave, and played indifferently upon the ashen face and +tangled curls, and on the broad chest of the living man whereon they rested. An +old baboon peeped round the rocky edge and manifested no surprise, only +indignation, at the intrusion of humanity, dead or alive, into his dominions. +Yes, the world woke up as usual, and recked not and troubled not because Jess +was dead. +</p> + +<p> +It is so accustomed to such sights. +</p> + +<p> +At last John woke up also. He stretched his arms yawning, and for the first +time became aware of the weight upon his breast. He glanced down and saw dimly +at first—then more clearly. +</p> + +<p> +There are some things into which it is wisest not to pry, and one of them is +the first agony of a strong man’s grief. +</p> + +<p> +Happy was it for John that his brain did not give way in that lonely hour of +bottomless despair. But he lived through it, as we do live through such things, +and was sane and sound after it, though it left its mark upon his life. +</p> + +<p> +Two hours later a gaunt, haggard figure stumbled down the hill-side towards the +site of Mooifontein, bearing something in his arms. The whole place was in +commotion. Here and there were knots of Boers talking excitedly, who, when they +saw the man coming, hurried up to learn who it was and what he carried. But +when they knew, they fell back awed and without a word, and John too passed +through them without a word. For a moment he hesitated, seeing that the house +was burnt down. Then he turned into the waggon-shed, and laid his burden down +on the saw-bench where Frank Muller had sat as judge upon the previous day. +</p> + +<p> +Now at last John spoke in a hoarse voice: “Where is the old man?” +</p> + +<p> +One of them pointed to the door of the little room. +</p> + +<p> +“Open it!” he said, so fiercely that again they fell back and +obeyed him without a word. +</p> + +<p> +“John! John!” cried Silas Croft, rising amazed from his seat upon a +sack. “Thank God—you have come back to us from the dead!” and +trembling with joy and surprise he would have fallen on his neck. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush!” he answered; “I have brought the dead with me.” +</p> + +<p> +And he led him to where Jess lay. +</p> + +<p> +During the day all the Boers went away and left them alone. Now that Frank +Muller lay dead there was no thought among them of carrying out the sentence +upon their old neighbour. Besides, there was no warrant for the execution, even +had they desired so to do, for their commandant died leaving it unsigned. So +they held an informal inquest upon their leader’s body, and buried him in +the little graveyard that was walled in on the hill-side at the back of where +the house had stood, and planted with the four red gums, one at each corner. +Rather than be at the pains of hollowing another grave, they buried him in the +very place that he had caused to be dug to receive the body of Silas Croft. +</p> + +<p> +Who had murdered Frank Muller was and remains a mystery among them to this day. +The knife was identified by natives about the farm as belonging to the +Hottentot Jantje, and a Hottentot had been seen running away from the place of +the deed and hunted for some way, but he could not be caught or heard of again. +Therefore many of them are of the opinion that he is the guilty man. Others, +again, believe that the crime rests upon the shoulders of the villainous +one-eyed Kafir, Hendrik, Muller’s own servant, who had also vanished. But +as they have never found either of them, and are not likely to do so, the point +remains a moot one. Nor, indeed, did they take any great pains to hunt for +them. Frank Muller was not a popular character, and the fact of a man coming to +a mysterious end does not produce any great sensation among a rough people and +in rough times. +</p> + +<p> +On the following day, old Silas Croft, Bessie, and John Niel also buried their +dead in the little graveyard on the hill-side, and there Jess lies, with some +ten feet of earth only between her and the man upon whom she was the instrument +of vengeance. But they never knew this, or even guessed it. They never knew +indeed that she had been near Mooifontein on that awful night. Nobody knew it +except Jantje; and Jantje, haunted by the footfall of the pursuing Boers, was +gone from the ken of the white man far into the heart of Central Africa. +</p> + +<p> +“John,” said the old man when they had filled in the grave, +“this is no country for Englishmen. Let us go home to England.” +John bowed his head in assent, for he could not speak. Fortunately means were +not wanting, although practically they were both ruined. The thousand pounds +that John had paid to Silas as the price of a third interest in the farm still +lay to the credit of the latter in the Standard Bank at Newcastle, in Natal, +together with another two hundred and fifty pounds in cash. +</p> + +<p> +And so in due course they went. +</p> + +<p> +Now what more is there to tell? Jess, to those who read what has been written +as it is meant to be read, was the soul of it all, and Jess—is dead. It +is useless to set a lifeless thing upon its feet, rather let us strive to +follow the soarings of the spirit. Jess is dead and her story at an end. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +So but one word more. +</p> + +<p> +After some difficulty, John Niel, within three months of his arrival in +England, obtained employment as a land agent to a large estate in Rutlandshire, +which position he fills to this day, with credit to himself and such advantage +to the property as can be expected in these times. Also, in due course he +became the beloved husband of sweet Bessie Croft, and on the whole he may be +considered a happy man. At times, however, a sorrow overcomes him of which his +wife knows nothing, and for a while he is not himself. +</p> + +<p> +He is not a man much addicted to sentiment or speculation, but sometimes when +his day’s work is done, and he strays to his garden gate and looks out at +the dim and peaceful English landscape beyond, and thence to the wide +star-strewn heavens above, he wonders if the hour will ever come when once more +he will see those dark and passionate eyes, and hear that sweet remembered +voice. +</p> + +<p> +For John feels as near to his lost love now that she is dead as he felt while +she was yet alive. From time to time indeed he seems to know without +possibility of doubt that if, when death is done with, there should prove to be +an individual future for us suffering mortals, as he for one believes, +certainly he will find Jess waiting to greet him at its gates. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JESS ***</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 5898-h.htm or 5898-h.zip</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/5/8/9/5898/</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law 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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