He patted the shining neck, and pa.s.sed his hand down each of the smooth forelegs, and the horse, making one or two playful bites at his shoulder, whinnied again. Then he extinguished the lantern and went out of the stable.
"No use trying to go to sleep. I"ll take a walk."
So saying he strolled away down into the kloof. The moon, nearly at half, was shining above, silvery and clear. Not a breath stirred the sleeping foliage, and, except that now and again something would rustle in the gra.s.s or bushes, the stillness was oppressive. He skirted the dam, whose dark gla.s.sy surface twinkled with the reflected stars, and pa.s.sing through the gap in the quince hedge, stood under the old pear-tree, and the network of light beneath its moon-pierced shade was there still, but paler than that of the golden sun. A gleam of something lying on the ground caught his eye. He picked it up. It was a ring--two ropes of twisted gold welded together. Moved by the same instinct that chilled him the last time he held this trinket in his hand, he dropped it as if it had been some live thing. Then he changed his mind, and, picking it up again, slipped it into his pocket, intending to restore it to its owner, somehow. But the finding of it created a sudden revulsion of feeling--fierce resentment drove out the sad, heart-breaking thoughts with which he had come to that spot--and dark, murderous projects crowded upon his raging soul. Why could he not find out the original owner of that bauble, and remove him from his path? The end would more than justify the means. He had shot a man before to-night, merely to save his own life; and the stake to be won here was far more than his own life. He would keep the ring, it might be turned to account. Thus ruminating he pa.s.sed through the wicket-gate, and on along the path towards the rocky pool. Here was where Lilian had started in alarm at the cry of the jackal that first evening; and then how happily they had conversed, wending their way down this path--but, be it remembered, with Death stalking the while unknown to them upon their footsteps.
At last he returned to the house, and re-entering his room threw himself upon his couch, sinking, from sheer exhaustion, into a troubled sleep.
And the Southern Cross turned in the heavens, and the moon sank lower, and the world slumbered; but, at length, that worn-out brain was awake again.
Claverton rose, plunged his head into cold water, dressed himself for travelling, and within half an hour of awaking had saddled-up Fleck, and nothing remained but to start. Stay--something did remain. Where was his riding-crop? Then he remembered that he had left it in the dining-room. It had slipped down behind the sideboard, and something had diverted his attention at the time so that he had forgotten to pick it up. Noiselessly he turned the handle of the door and let himself into the dark pa.s.sage; then into the dining-room, fearing lest the tread of his riding-boots or the creak of the floor should disturb the house; but no--all was still. He found the missing article just where he had left it; quietly he regained the pa.s.sage again, in another instant he would be gone, when--What was that?
For the dining-room door, which he had just come through, was softly opened, and a figure stood at the end of the pa.s.sage--a female figure-- wrapped in a dressing-gown. Heavens! how his heart leaped! Had she yielded? Was this indeed her, come to cancel his departure? His thoughts were running so entirely upon her, or he would have seen that the figure before him was not tall enough for that of Lilian. But he turned towards it transfixed.
"Arthur," whispered a voice, dispelling the illusion at once. "Arthur.
You are going away--for good; I know you are."
"Ethel! Good Heavens, child! What are you doing here?" he exclaimed in blank astonishment.
"You are going away," she answered. "I guessed it last night. I could feel it, somehow. And you were going to leave us all without saying good-bye--to leave us without a word," she went on in tones of suppressed excitement.
"Ethel, for goodness" sake go back to your room at once," said Claverton gently, yet firmly. "You don"t know what you are doing. Only think, if any one were to hear you and to come out now."
To do him justice, he was anxious far more for her than for himself in the exceedingly awkward position in which her impulsiveness was in danger of placing them both.
"Oh, I don"t know what I am doing?" repeated the girl, bitterly, and stifling down a sob. "And you are very anxious to see the last of me; but remember this, Arthur. At any rate, I did not let you go without wishing you good-bye, however imprudent I may have been in doing so."
"Ethel, believe me, I was thinking entirely for you. You never would think for yourself, you know," he parenthesised, with a sad smile. "I can"t tell you how I appreciate your doing this; but I have too much regard for you to allow you to remain a moment longer. Now do go back to your room, if it is the last thing I ever ask you."
For a moment the girl made no reply. A flood of moonlight streamed in at the open door, playing with her golden hair, which fell in waves upon her shoulders as she stood with her hands clasped before her.
"Good-bye, Arthur. And remember, I was the only one here who saw the very last of you," she added in a tone of strange triumph, lifting her eyes suddenly to his. Was it that he had seen that look before in other eyes, and, recognising it, desired to save her from herself? Was it that in his mind was seared that last vow, uttered that morning and wrung from a breaking heart? Who may tell? He pressed both her little hands in his own, and, without again looking at her, pa.s.sed through the doorway and was gone.
The red half-moon glowered in the sky, with its points turned angrily upwards, and a cloud-cap stole over the distant mountains one by one, spreading, creeping over the face of the land, and day broke. And in the cold grey dawn the wanderer rode on--on in the misty drizzle which swept through the dark spekboem sprays and made the big stones on the hillside, far and near, gleam like lumps of ice. Rain or shine, warmth or chill, it was nothing to him. Down the bush path, smooth or rugged; winding along a kloof; through a river; neither looking to the right nor to the left he held on his way, on, on--ever on.
VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
"I DIE, AND FAR AWAY. HAST THOU KNOWN?"
A cheerful wood fire is crackling and sparkling in the grate, throwing out tremulous shadows upon the plain, ma.s.sive furniture and polished floor, ever and anon lighting up the old room with a sudden glow.
The glow quivers upon a pale, beautiful face and on a coronal of dusky hair, whose owner sits gazing into the bright caverns formed by the burning wood, the picture of retrospective meditation. A book lies open upon her lap, proclaiming that the twilight has overtaken her and compelled her to give up reading in favour of a more idle but not always more pleasant resource--reflection; which pastime, in the present instance, seems to bring her more of sorrow than of joy, for there are tears br.i.m.m.i.n.g in the sweet eyes, and the curves of her mouth are even a little more wistfully sad than usual.
It is four months since we saw that horseman, with despair and gloom upon his countenance, riding away in the cold grey dawn, on, whither he knew not, neither cared; and Lilian Strange is still at Seringa Vale. A few days before her projected departure, news came from the McColls to the effect that they would not be returning to the colony for another six months, and offering, if she wished it, to release her from her engagement, otherwise they would be glad to have her back with them at the time of their return. Mrs Brathwaite, however, who had secretly formed a plan in her own mind for keeping Lilian altogether, soon persuaded her to prolong her stay, at any rate until the McColls returned. "You see, dear," she had said, "you are not nearly strong enough to go back to work again yet, even if you had anywhere to go.
And just as we have got a little colour into your cheeks and set you up, here you go getting ill again. Besides, we shan"t be able to do without your bright face, dearie, so if you can put up with such a quiet house as this is now, don"t say anything more about leaving." And Lilian, lonely and friendless as she was, and shaken and upset by the recent events, had thrown her arms round the old lady"s neck and indulged in a good cry, and declaring that she loved the dear old place almost beyond her old home, had done as she was told.
"_You will be doing evil that good may come of it_." Was this so, indeed? Had she better have broken that promise? Ah! better not dwell on that now. And then would arise the thought of him--wandering afar and alone, uncheered, heartsick and weary in spirit; it might be in daily peril of death. It was at night--by day she could in a life of usefulness in a measure lose herself--at night, in the dead, dark, lonesome hours, that such thoughts would come upon her, and with an awful feeling of forsakenness, she would lie through the long, silent watches hardly able to sob out the bitter, voiceless anguish that overwhelmed her soul. And as yet, Time, the merciful healer, had brought little or no consolation. She would go about her daily avocations even cheerfully, always tender and thoughtful, smiling often, though as yet so sadly, for she would, as she had resolved to herself, live in the happiness of others. And the event which had kindled this resolve occurred very shortly after the death-blow to her own happiness.
One day Hicks and Laura, who had been taking a walk round the garden together, came in looking a little flurried, and the former at once and feverishly sought out his employer, whom he informed, with much stammering and bashfulness, that he had just proposed to and been accepted by Laura, and he trusted Mr Brathwaite would see no objection, etc, etc. The old man heard him out, and then mused for a moment in silence.
"H"m! You see, Hicks--you"ll have to wait a bit, but I don"t know that that"ll do you any harm," he replied. "My brother George"ll be round here in a few days--but you did quite right to tell me at once--then you can speak to him yourself. I dare say he won"t object, and I"ll do what I can for you. Ever since you"ve been with me you"ve given me nothing but satisfaction in every respect, and I don"t forget it, my lad.
You"ve learned your work well, and what"s better, you"ve done it well; go on as you"ve begun, and you"ll make your way. But, as I told you before, you"ll have to wait a bit."
Hicks mumbled out a string of incoherent thanks, and wrung his employer"s hand.
"Ah, it"s a grand thing to be young and to have all one"s life before one," said the old man, kindly. "Well, it"s nearly time to go and count--or perhaps I"d better do it. Your head will hardly hold such commonplace things as sheep this evening," added he, with a good-natured laugh, as he turned away.
In great elation Hicks bolted off, and, not looking where he was going, collided against Lilian in the doorway, with such violence as nearly to upset her.
"Oh, Miss Strange. I beg your pardon! What a blundering a.s.s I am!
Have I hurt you?" he cried, in abject, remorseful consternation. "How confoundedly careless of me! Do forgive me?"
"I"m not in the least hurt, really," answered Lilian, leaning against the chair, which she had just seized in time to save herself from falling. "But I"ll forgive you, only upon one condition," she added, with a smile. "That you tell me what you are looking so ridiculously happy about."
Hicks told her, there and then.
"I"m so glad," Lilian said. "I congratulate you most truly. You will be very happy, and from what I have heard of you, you will deserve to be."
Again Hicks mumbled something as he pressed the hand she extended to him, and pa.s.sed on. Lilian gazed after him, and the tears rose to her eyes; but they were grateful, healing tears. "Thank G.o.d!" she murmured, "there is happiness left in the world for some people, and that is a sight good to look upon." A warm glow crept round her heart--so stricken and desolate--and she felt that life might be worth living after all, to take part in the joys and sorrows of others. It was a turning-point, and the crisis was past; but, oh! the road was to be an uphill one upon whose th.o.r.n.y way the toiler would oft-times sink crushed and heartbroken. Then she had kissed and congratulated Laura, who, though outwardly very demure and reticent, yet felt thoroughly satisfied with her bargain.
Mr Brathwaite was as good as his word, and with such a powerful advocate Hicks" suit was bound to prosper. George Brathwaite, an easy-going man in any matter wholly dissociated with politics, listened, and was convinced, as his brother put the case before him. Hicks was a quiet, steady, hard-working fellow, in fact, bound to make his way. He had a little stock of his own, and lately some money had been left him, not much, but enough to help him on a bit when he should set up for himself, and with a little help from them, would do well enough. He was good-tempered, and by no means a fool, and, in fact, Laura might have done worse. And Laura"s father thought the same, and the result was notified to the pair concerned. They must wait, of course, but the great thing was to have the consent of the authorities, and to know that it was a settled thing. But a thorn in the rose lay in the fact that in a couple of days or so George Brathwaite would take both his daughters away with him--that being the errand upon which he had come to Seringa Vale. However, they could write. A new experience to Hicks, by the way, who, with the exception of a stereotyped and brief letter home at rare intervals, seldom used the weapon mightier than the sword. But he would find plenty to say now, never fear.
"How I wish Claverton was back again," Hicks had said to Laura, the day before she left. "Poor old Arthur. I suppose he"s started off on some mad expedition. The place won"t seem the same without him."
"Won"t it? It would have been a good deal better for the place if it had always remained without him," she retorted, rather bitterly.
He looked at her with surprise. "Why, Laura, what has he done? I thought you all liked him no end?"
"Yes, rather too much," she rejoined, to herself--thinking of Ethel--but she only said: "Well, I don"t know why I said that. Never mind, Alfred, perhaps I"ll tell you what I mean, some day; perhaps I won"t; probably I won"t. Try and forget it now, at any rate. You will, won"t you?"
"On one condition," replied Hicks, looking at her.
What that condition was need not be specified. Nor does it concern the thread of this narrative whether it was consented to or not.
Then the two girls had gone; and sorely did those left behind miss the bright young presences and the merry, jestful times which had prevailed, and the old farmhouse had settled down into the slumbrous quietude in which we first saw it that glowing August evening, the best part of a year back; and the events intervening had melted like a dream, for all the outward traces they had left. But a dream from which that pale, sad watcher, now gazing at the fire, would never awaken to life again.
Twice only had Claverton been heard of since he left. The first time he had written to Mrs Brathwaite explaining how nothing but the gravest reasons had induced him to leave thus suddenly--and more to the same effect; directing where his things were to be sent, and concluding with the sincerest expressions of appreciation and regard--and the old lady, who knew pretty well by that time how matters stood, had felt inclined to cry as she read it. The second letter, after an interval, was to Hicks, and bore the Durban postmark. The writer was going up-country, he said, far into the interior, to do a little shooting, and some knocking about. He wanted to be quite independent, so would go alone, with a n.i.g.g.e.r or two to carry the things and look after a spare horse.
He didn"t want some cantankerous compatriot with him to worry his life out at every turn, not he. A few things had been left at Seringa Vale which Hicks might look after for him, and if he never came back could stick to--a horse, for instance, and some gimcrackery in the shape of riding-gear and one or two things. No doubt they"d clash again some of these days; if not, well, it would come all right in the end, he supposed, and life was not such a blissful thing, after all. It was not worth while answering this, concluded the writer, for he would be away on his travels almost before it had started.
And it is the crowd of memories and conjectures evoked by this letter which Lilian is pondering over this evening, alone in the firelight. A few days ago, Hicks had asked her if she would like to see it, as she was not in the room when he read out its contents. She had kept it ever since, and good-natured Hicks, noticing the light in her eyes, and the tremor of her hand as he gave it her, had "forgotten" to ask her for it again. She has read every word of it until she knows it by heart, and has conjured up many and many a picture of that lonely traveller, wandering on, mile after mile, far into that vast continent of which this locality was merely the outskirts. And it is her doing! She can "read between the lines" that time has brought no more healing to him than to herself, and, thinking over it this evening, one of those terrible paroxysms of woe is nearly upon her, and she half rises to leave the room when a step is heard in the pa.s.sage, then the door opens and some one enters, whistling a lively tune which stops suddenly as the whistler becomes aware of her presence.
"That you, Miss Strange? Good evening; are you trying to read in the dark? By Jove, how cold it"s turned!" rattles on Hicks, rubbing his hands briskly, and kicking up the logs in the grate.
"Yes," answered Lilian, for the diversion has called her back to herself. "And how the days are drawing in!"
"Rather! And cold? This morning, down there in Aasvogel Kloof, the ground was white with frost, and at eight o"clock, long after the sun was up, it was nipping cold. I had to keep changing my bridle-hand about every minute and a half, keeping one in my pocket till it got warm, you know; not that it did get warm even then, still it thawed a bit."
"Fancy that. And yet there are people who would stare if you mentioned the word cold, in connection with Africa."