"A good way to comfort one," he growled ungraciously, "to wander away with a Bushman and make us run all over the country looking for you."
"Would you like to know, truly, why I went, Uncle Gideon?"
"Oh, as you are back all right now and have had enough to eat, wherever you have been, it does not matter; you can tell me some other time.-- Only you must not do such a thing again."
"No,--there will be no need for me to do the like again."
Gideon left the room, feeling more and more puzzled. Each one of Elsie"s ambiguous remarks sent his speculations farther and farther afield. One thing only was clear to him,--it was time to carry out that intention which had been gradually growing of late years as time went by and his brother did not, as the miserable man had confidently expected, die in prison. This was the intention, previously unformulated, of finally leaving wife, home and everything else and trekking to some unknown spot far beyond the great, mysterious Gariep,--to some spot so distant that his brother"s vengeance would not be able to reach him, and there spending the remnant of his miserable days.
To do Gideon but justice, the strongest element in his dread of meeting Stepha.n.u.s was not physical but moral. He felt he could not bear to confront the stern accusation which he pictured as arising in the injured man"s piercing eyes. He feared death, for he dared not meet his G.o.d with this unrepented crime on his soul, but he feared it less than the eyes of his injured brother,--that brother whom he had robbed of ten precious years of life.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
GIDEON"S FLIGHT TO THE WILDERNESS.
After Gideon had become somewhat accustomed to Elsie"s presence that awe with which she had at first inspired him began to lessen. Now that he meant to go away finally nothing she knew or could do mattered to him very much. He was fond of Aletta in a way,--more or less as one is fond of a faithful dog, but she was the only being in the wide world who cared for him, so he felt the prospect of parting from her very keenly.
He determined to make a full confession of his transgression to her before leaving, feeling persuaded that thenceforth she would look upon him with abhorrence and thus would not sorrow at his departure. The thought that he was about to destroy his patient wife"s regard for his lonely self was not the least of Gideon"s troubles.
He tried to carry off his distress with an air of unconcern which, however, did not deceive anyone. As the preparations for his departure were being hurried towards completion he became more talkative than usual. Aletta, at the near prospect of the parting, was sunk in the depths of misery. Adrian and his wife who resided with Uncle Gideon, now and then visited the homestead. Jacomina had refused to leave her father, on the pretext that her a.s.sistance in his medical practice was indispensable. The true reason was, however, that she wanted, if possible, to prevent him marrying again.
Elsie, to whom the night was as the day, continued her old habit of wandering abroad after all the others had gone to bed. She invariably dressed in light colours and used to flit like a ghost among the trees.
Gideon had dubbed her "White Owl," and he never addressed her as anything else.
Two days before Gideon"s intended departure the three were sitting at breakfast. A messenger who had been despatched to the residence of the Field Cornet, some forty miles away, was seen approaching. Gideon was in one of his forced sardonic moods.
"Aletta," he said, "your eyes are red again; have you been boiling soap?"
"No, Gideon; it is not only the steam from the soap-pot that reddens the eyes."
"Has the maid spoilt a batch of bread? If she has, _her_ eyes ought to be red and not yours."
"No, Gideon,--the bread has been well baked."
"What is the matter, then? Sunday, Monday and Tuesday your face is like a pumpkin when the rain is falling; Wednesday, Thursday and Friday the water is still running; Sat.u.r.day it is not dry. Did you ever laugh in your life?"
"It is long since I have heard you laugh, Gideon."
"I? I can laugh now,--Well,--you have never seen me weep."
"Would to G.o.d you did rather than laugh like that."
"Uncle Gideon," said Elsie, "one day your tears will flow."
"When will that day come, White Owl?"
"When my father"s prison doors are opened."
Gideon glared at her, terror and fury writ large upon his distorted face. Just then a knock was heard; Aletta arose and went to the door where she found the returned messenger, who had just off-saddled his horse. She came back to the table and silently laid a letter before Gideon who, when he recognised the handwriting started violently. After looking at the letter for a few seconds he picked it up as though about to open it; then he flung the missive down and hurried from the room.
"Elsie," said Aletta in agitated tones, "here is a letter from your father."
Elsie sprang to her feet.
"Read it,--read it,--Aunt," she said, "perhaps the prison doors are open."
Aletta opened the letter with shaking fingers and read it aloud laboriously and in an agitated voice:--
"My Brother Gideon,
"In three days from now I shall once more walk G.o.d"s earth--a free man.
Because I worked well and did as I was bidden without question, my time of punishment has been shortened. From our cousins at Stellenbosch I have obtained a wagon and oxen, by means of which I shall at once hurry home. When this reaches you I shall be well on my way. My first business must be to see you.
"We two have a reckoning to make together. It will be best that we be alone when it is made.
"Your brother,
"Stepha.n.u.s."
Aletta uttered a moan and bent forward with her face on the table.
Elsie, with a rapt smile on her face stood up and laid her hand upon her aunt"s shoulder. Then a hurried step was heard and Gideon entered the room.
Seeing the letter lying upon the table where it had fallen from his wife"s nerveless hand, Gideon picked it up and hurriedly read it through. Then, with a curse, he flung it down.
"Aletta," he cried, "I am going at once. I cannot meet him. G.o.d--why was I born this man"s brother?--Nine long years thirsting for my blood."
"It is not your blood that he wants, Uncle Gideon," said Elsie in a calm tone.
"Yes,--yes, Gideon," said Aletta, "go away for a time. I will keep him here and try to soften his heart."
"Yes,--keep him here for a time--for only a little time--but I shall go away for ever. I shall go where never a white man"s foot has trod, and when I can go no farther I will dig my own grave."
"Do not go, Uncle Gideon," said Elsie, "stay and meet him."
"Silence, blind tiger"s cub that wants my blood. Get out of my sight."
"You will not go so far but that he will find you," said Elsie as she moved from the room. "He will have his reckoning. He does not want your blood."
"Aletta, I have told them to inspan the wagon and start. Put in my food and bedding at once. When the wagon has gone we will talk; I will follow it on horseback. I have things to tell you that will make you hate me and wish never to see my face again."
"Nothing could make that happen.--Gideon, I know--"
"Wait,--let me see when this letter was written--Christ! it is thirteen days old,--he must be nearly here--"
Gideon rushed from the room and began to hurry the servants in their preparations for departure. The oxen had just been driven down from their grazing ground high on the mountain side. The wagon had been hurriedly packed with bedding, water, food and other stores. The mob of horses were driven in from the kraal; Gideon gave hurried directions to the Hottentot servants as to which were to be selected. Soon the wagon was lumbering heavily up the steep mountain track towards the unknown, mysterious North, in the direction where Gideon had so sorely and vainly sought for the dwelling-place of Peace.
The horses were now caught and Gideon"s favourite hunting steed saddled up. The spare horses were led after the wagon by a Hottentot after-rider. Then Gideon entered the house to take farewell of his wife.