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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..378bcb3 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51937 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51937) diff --git a/old/51937-0.txt b/old/51937-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index daf660b..0000000 --- a/old/51937-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6492 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Daireen, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -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 -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Daireen - Volume 2 of 2 - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51937] -Last Updated: March 13, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAIREEN *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - -DAIREEN - -Volume 2 of 2 - -By Frank Frankfort Moore - - -(Transcriber's Note: Chapters XX to XXIV were taken from a print -copy of a different edition as these chapters were missing from the 1889 -print edition from which the rest of the Project Gutenberg edition was -taken. In the inserted four chapters it will be noted that the normal -double quotation marks were printed as single quote marks.) - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - - - I have heard of your paintings too. - - _Hamlet_. His form and cause conjoined, preaching to stones, - - Would make them capable. Do not look upon me, - - Lest... what I have to do - - Will want true colour.... - - Do you see nothing there? - - _Queen_. No, nothing but ourselves. - - _Hamlet_. Why, look you there... - - Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal. - - _Hamlet._ - - -|I AM so glad to be beside some one who can tell me all I want to know' -said Lottie, looking up to Colonel Gerald's bronzed face when Mrs. -Crawford and Markham had walked on. - -'My dear Lottie, you know very well that you know as much as I do,' he -answered, smiling down at her. - -'Oh, Colonel Gerald, how can you say such a thing?' she cried -innocently. 'You know I am always getting into scrapes through my -simplicity.' - -'You have managed to get out of a good many in your time, my dear. Is it -by the same means you got out of them, Lottie-your simplicity?' - -'Oh, you are as amusing as ever,' laughed the young thing. 'But you must -not be hard upon poor little me, now that I want to ask you so much. -Will you tell me, like a dear good colonel--I know you can if you -choose--what is the mystery about this Mr. Markham?' - -'Mystery? I don't hear of any mystery about him.' - -'Why, all your friends came out in the some steamer as he did. They must -have told you. Everybody here is talking about him. That's why I want -him for our theatricals: everyone will come to see him.' - -'Well, if the mystery, whatever it may be, remains unrevealed up to the -night of the performance, you will have a house all the more crowded.' - -'But I want to know all about it for myself. Is it really true that he -had fallen overboard from another ship, and was picked up after being -several weeks at sea?' - -'You would be justified in calling that a mystery, at any rate,' said -Colonel Gerald. - -'That is what some people here are saying, I can assure you,' she cried -quickly. 'Others say that he was merely taken aboard the steamer at St. -Helena, after having been wrecked; but that is far too unromantic.' - -'Oh, yes, far too unromantic.' - -'Then you do know the truth? Oh, please tell it to me. I have always -said I was sure it was true that a girl on the steamer saw him floating -on the horizon with an unusually powerful pilot-glass.' - -'Rather mysterious for a fellow to be floating about on the horizon with -a pilot-glass, Lottie.' - -'What a shame to make fun of me, especially as our performance is in -the cause of charity, and I want Mr. Markham's name to be the particular -attraction! Do tell me if he was picked up at sea.' - -'I believe he was.' - -'How really lovely! Floating about on a wreck and only restored after -great difficulty! Our room should be filled to the doors. But what I -can't understand, Colonel Gerald, is where he gets the money he lives -on here. He could not have had much with him when he was picked up. But -people say he is very rich.' - -'Then no doubt people have been well informed, my dear. But all I know -is that this Mr. Markham was on his way from New Zealand, or perhaps -Australia, and his vessel having foundered, he was picked up by the -“Cardwell Castle” and brought to the Cape. He had a note for a few -hundred pounds in his pocket which he told me he got cashed here without -any difficulty, and he is going to England in a short time. Here we are -at the room where these pictures are said to be hanging. Be sure you -keep up the mystery, Lottie.' - -'Ah, you have had your little chat, I hope,' said Mrs. Crawford, waiting -at the door of Government House until Colonel Gerald and Lottie had come -up. - -'A delightful little chat, as all mine with Colonel Gerald are,' said -Lottie, passing over to Mr. Markham. 'Are you going inside to see the -pictures, Mrs. Crawford?' - -'Not just yet, my dear; we must find Miss Gerald,' said Mrs. Crawford, -who had no particular wish to remain in close attachment to Miss Vincent -for the rest of the evening. - -'Mr. Markham and I are going in,' said Lottie. 'I do so dote upon -pictures, and Mr. Markham can explain them I know; so _au revoir_.' - -She kissed the dainty tips of her gloves and passed up to the small -piazza at the House, near where Major Crawford and some of the old -Indians were sitting drinking their brandy and soda and revolving many -memories. - -'Let us not go in for a while, Mr. Markham,' she said. 'Let us stay here -and watch them all. Isn't it delightfully cool here? How tell me all -that that dreadful old Mrs. Crawford was saying to you about me.' - -'Upon my word,' said Markham smiling, 'it _is_ delightfully cool up -here.' - -'I know she said ever so much; she does so about everyone who has at any -time run against her and her designs. She's always designing.' - -'And you ran against her, you think?' - -'Of course I did,' cried Lottie, turning round and giving an almost -indignant look at the man beside her. 'And she has been saying nasty -things about me ever since; only of course they have never injured me, -as people get to understand her in a very short time. But what did she -say just now?' - -'Nothing, I can assure you, that was not very much in favour of the -theatrical idea I have just promised to work out with you, Miss Vincent: -she told me you were a--a capital actress.' - -'She said that, did she? Spiteful old creature! Just see how she is all -smiles and friendliness to Mr. Harwood because she thinks he will say -something about her husband's appointment and the satisfaction it is -giving in the colony in his next letter to the “Trumpeter.” That is -Colonel Gerald's daughter with them now, is it not?' - -'Yes, that is Miss Gerald,' answered Markham, looking across the lawn -to where Daireen was standing with Mr. Harwood and some of the -tennis-players as Mrs. Crawford and her companion came up with Mr. -Glaston, whom they had discovered and of whom the lady had taken -possession. The girl was standing beneath the broad leaf of a plantain -with the red sunlight falling behind her and lighting up the deep ravine -of the mountain beyond. Oswin thought he had never before seen her look -so girlishly lovely. - -'How people here do run after every novelty!' remarked Miss Vincent, who -was certainly aware that she herself was by no means a novelty. 'Just -because they never happen to have seen that girl before, they mob her -to death. Isn't it too bad? What extremes they go to in their delight at -having found something new! I actually heard a gentleman say to-day that -he thought Miss Geralds face perfect. Could anything be more absurd, -when one has only to see her complexion to know that it is extremely -defective, while her nose is--are you going in to the pictures so soon?' - -'Well, I think so,' said Markham. 'If we don't see them now it will be -too dark presently.' - -'Why, I had no idea you were such a devotee of Art,' she cried. 'Just -let me speak to papa for a moment and I will submit myself to your -guidance.' And she tripped away to where the surgeon-general was smoking -among the old Indians. - -Oswin Markham waited at the side of the balcony, and then Mrs. Crawford -with her entire party came up, Mr. Glaston following with Daireen, who -said, just as she was beside Mr. Markham, 'We are all going to view the -pictures, Mr. Markham; won't you join us?' - -'I am only waiting for Miss Vincent,' he answered. Then Daireen and her -companion passed into the room containing the four works meant to be -illustrative of that perfect conception of a subject, and of the only -true method of its treatment, which were the characteristics assigned -to themselves by a certain section of painters with whom Mr. Glaston -enjoyed communion. - -The pictures had, by Mr. Glaston's direction, been hung in what would -strike an uncultured mind as being an eccentric fashion. But, of course, -there was a method in it. Each painting was placed obliquely at a -window; the natural view which was to be obtained at a glance outside -being supposed to have a powerful influence upon the mind of a spectator -in preparing him to receive the delicate symbolism of each work. - -'One of our theories is, that a painting is not merely an imitation of -a part of nature, but that it becomes, if perfectly worked out in its -symbolism, a pure creation of Nature herself,' said Mr. Glaston airily, -as he condescended to explain his method of arrangement to his immediate -circle. There were only a few people in the room when Mrs. Crawford's -party entered. Mr. Glaston knew, of course, that Harwood was there, -but he felt that he could, with these pictures about him, defy all the -criticism of the opposing school. - -'It is a beautiful idea,' said Mrs. Crawford; 'is it not, Colonel -Gerald?' - -'Capital idea,' said the colonel. - -'Rubbish!' whispered Harwood to Markham, who entered at this moment with -Lottie Vincent. - -'The absurdity--the wickedness--of hanging pictures in the popular -fashion is apparent to every thoughtful mind,' said the prophet of Art. -'Putting pictures of different subjects in a row and asking the public -to admire them is something too terrible to think about. It is the act -of a nation of barbarians. To hold a concert and perform at the same -instant selections from Verdi, Wagner, Liszt, and the Oxford music-hall -would be as consistent with the principles of Art as these Gallery -exhibitions of pictures.' - -'How delightful!' cried Lottie, lifting up her four-buttoned gloves in -true enthusiasm. 'I have often thought exactly what he says, only I have -never had courage to express myself.' - -'It needs a good deal of courage,' remarked Harwood. - -'What a pity it is that people will continue to be stupid!' said Mrs. -Crawford. 'For my own part, I will never enter an Academy exhibition -again. I am ashamed to confess that I have never missed a season when I -had the chance, but now I see the folly of it all. What a lovely scene -that is in the small black frame! Is it not, Daireen?' - -'Ah, you perceive the Idea?' said Mr. Glaston as the girl and Mrs. -Crawford stood before a small picture of a man and a woman in a -pomegranate grove in a grey light, the man being in the act of plucking -the fruit. 'You understand, of course, the symbolism of the pomegranate -and the early dawn-light among the boughs?' - -'It is a darling picture,' said Lottie effusively. - -'I never saw such carelessness in drawing before,' said Harwood so soon -as Mr. Glaston and his friends had passed on to another work. - -'The colour is pretty fair, but the drawing is ruffianly.' - -'Ah, you terrible critic!' cried Lottie. - -'You spoil one's enjoyment of the pictures. But I quite agree with you; -they are fearful daubs,' she added in a whisper. 'Let us stay here and -listen to the gushing of that absurd old woman; we need not be in the -back row in looking at that wonderful work they are crowding about.' - -'I am not particularly anxious to stand either in the front or the -second row,' said Harwood. 'The pavement in the picture is simply an -atrocity. I saw the thing before.' - -So Harwood, Lottie, and Markham stood together at one of the open -windows, through which were borne the brazen strains of the distant -band, and the faint sounds of the laughter of the lawn-tennis players, -and the growls of the old Indians on the balcony. Daireen and the rest -of the party had gone to the furthest window from which at an oblique -angle one of the pictures was placed. Miss Vincent and Harwood soon -found themselves chatting briskly; but Markham stood leaning against the -wall behind them, with his eyes fixed upon Daireen, who was looking in -a puzzled way at the picture. Markham wondered what was the element that -called for this puzzled--almost troubled expression upon her face, but -he could not see anything of the work. - -'How very fine, is it not, George?' said Mrs. Crawford to Colonel Gerald -as they stood back to gaze upon the painting. - -'I think I'll go out and have a smoke,' replied the colonel smiling. - -Mrs. Crawford cast a reproachful glance towards him as he turned away, -but Mr. Glaston seemed oblivious to every remark. - -'Is it not wonderful, Daireen?' whispered Mrs. Crawford to the girl. - -'Yes,' said Daireen, 'I think it is--wonderful,' and the expression upon -her face became more troubled still. - -The picture was composed of a single figure--a half-naked, dark-skinned -female with large limbs and wild black hair. She was standing in a -high-roofed oriental kiosk upon a faintly coloured pavement, gazing -with fierce eyes upon a decoration of the wall, representing a battle -in which elephants and dromedaries were taking part. Through one of -the arched windows of the building a purple hill with a touch of sunset -crimson upon its ridge was seen, while the Evening Star blazed through -the dark blue of the higher heaven. - -Daireen looked into the picture, and when she saw the wild face of the -woman she gave a shudder, though she scarcely knew why. - -'All but the face,' she said. 'It is too terrible--there is nothing of a -woman about it.' - -'My dear child, that is the chief wonder of the picture,' said Mr. -Glaston. 'You recognise the subject, of course?' - -'It might be Cleopatra,' said Daireen dubiously. - -'Oh, hush, hush! never think of such a thing again,' said Mr. Glaston -with an expression that would have meant horror if it had not been -tempered with pity. 'Cleopatra is vulgar--vulgar--popular. That is -Aholibah.' - -'You remember, of course, my dear,' said Mrs. Crawford; 'she is a young -woman in the Bible--one of the old parts--Daniel or Job or Hezekiah, you -know. She was a Jewess or an Egyptian or something of that sort, like -Judith, the young person who drove a nail into somebody's brain--they -were always doing disagreeable things in those days. I can't recollect -exactly what this dreadful creature did, but I think it was somehow -connected with the head of John the Baptist.' - -'Oh, no, no,' said Daireen, still keeping her eyes fixed upon the face -of the figure as though it had fascinated her. - -'Aholibah the painter has called it,' said - -Mr. Glaston. 'But it is the symbolism of the picture that is most -valuable. Wonderful thought that is of the star--Astarte, you know ---shedding the light by which the woman views the picture of one of her -lovers.' - -'Oh!' exclaimed Mrs. Crawford in a shocked way, forgetting for the -moment that they were talking on Art. Then she recollected herself and -added apologetically, 'They were dreadful young women, you know, dear.' - -'Marvellous passion there is in that face,' continued the young man. -'It contains a lifetime of thought--of suffering. It is a poem--it is a -precious composition of intricate harmonies.' - -'Intricate! I should think it is,' said Harwood to Lottie, in the -distant window. - -'Hush!' cried the girl, 'the high-priest is beginning to speak.' - -'The picture is perhaps the only one in existence that may be said to be -the direct result of the three arts as they are termed, though we prefer -to think that there is not the least distinction between the methods of -painting, poetry, and music,' said Mr. Glaston. 'I chanced to drop in to -the studio of my friend who painted this, and I found him in a sad state -of despondency. He had nearly all of the details of the picture filled -in; the figure was as perfect as it is at present--all except the -expression of the face. “I have been thinking about it for days,” - said the poor fellow, and I could see that his face was haggard with -suffering; “but only now and again has the expression I want passed -across my mind, and I have been unable to catch it.” I looked at the -unfinished picture,' continued Mr. Glaston, 'and I saw what he wanted. -I stood before the picture in silence for some time, and then I composed -and repeated a sonnet which I fancied contained the missing expression -of passion. He sprang up and seized my hand, and his face brightened -with happiness: I had given him the absent idea, and I left him painting -enthusiastically. A few days after, however, I got a line from him -entreating me to come to him. I was by his side in an hour, and I found -him in his former state of despondency. “It has passed away again,” - he said, “and I want you to repeat your sonnet.” Unfortunately I had -forgotten every line of the sonnet, and when I told him so he was in -agony. But I begged of him not to despair. I brought the picture and -placed it before me on a piano. I looked at it and composed an impromptu -that I thought suggested the exact passion he wanted for the face. The -painter stood listening with his head bowed down to his hands. When I -ended he caught up the picture. “I see it all clearly,” he cried; “you -have saved me--you have saved the picture.” Two days afterwards he sent -it to me finished as it is now.' - -'Wonderful! is it not, Daireen?' said Mrs. Crawford, as the girl turned -away after a little pause. - -'The face,' said Daireen gently; 'I don't want ever to see it again. Let -us look at something else.' - -They turned away to the next picture; but Markham, who had been -observing the girl's face, and had noticed that little shudder come over -her, felt strangely interested in the painting, whatever it might be, -that had produced such an impression upon her. He determined to go -unobserved over to the window where the work was hanging so soon as -everyone would have left it. - -'It requires real cleverness to compose such a story as that of Mr. -Glaston's,' said Lottie Vincent to Mr. Harwood. - -'It sounded to me all along like a clever bit of satire, and I daresay -it was told to him as such,' said Harwood. 'It only needed him to -complete the nonsense by introducing another of the fine arts in the -working out of that wonderfully volatile expression.' - -'Which is that?' said Lottie; 'do tell me, like a good fellow,' and she -laid the persuasive finger of a four-buttoned glove upon his arm. - -'Certainly. I will finish the story for you,' said Harwood, giving the -least little imitation of the lordly manner of Mr. Glaston. 'Yes, -my friend the painter sent a telegram to me a few years after I had -performed that impromptu, and I was by his side in an hour. I found him -at least twenty years older in appearance, and he was searching with -a lighted candle in every corner of the studio for that expression of -passion which had once more disappeared. - -What could I do? I had exhausted the auxiliaries of poetry and music, -but fortunately another art remained to me; you have heard of the poetry -of motion? In an instant I had mounted the table and had gone through a -breakdown of the most æsthetic design, when I saw his face lighten--his -grey hairs turned once more to black--long artistic oily black. “I have -found it,” he cried, seizing the hearthbrush and dipping it into the -paint just as I completed the final attitude: it was found--but--what -is the matter, Miss Vincent?' - -'Look!' she whispered. 'Look at Mr. Markham.' - -'Good heavens!' cried Harwood, starting up, 'is he going to fall? No, he -has steadied himself by the window. I thought he was beside us.' - -'He went over to the picture a second ago, and I saw that pallor come -over him,' said Lottie. - -Harwood hastened to where Oswin Markham was standing, his white face -turned away from the picture, and his hand clutching the rail of a -curtain. - -'What is the matter, Markham?' said Harwood quietly. 'Are you faint?' - -Markham turned his eyes upon him with a startled expression, and a smile -that was not a smile came upon his face. - -'Faint? yes,' he said. 'This room after the air. I'll be all right. -Don't make a scene, for God's sake.' - -'There is no need,' said Harwood. 'Sit down here, and I'll get you a -glass of brandy.' - -'Not here,' said Markham, giving the least little side glance towards -the picture. 'Not here, but at the open window.' - -Harwood helped him over to the open window, and he fell into a seat -beside it and gazed out at the lawn-tennis players, quite regardless of -Lottie Vincent standing beside him and enquiring how he felt. - -In a few minutes Harwood returned with some brandy in a glass. - -'Thanks, my dear fellow,' said the other, drinking it off eagerly. 'I -feel better now--all right, in fact.' - -'This, of course, you perceive,' came the voice of Mr. Glaston from the -group who were engrossed over the wonders of the final picture,--'This -is an exquisite example of a powerful mind endeavouring to subdue the -agony of memory. Observe the symbolism of the grapes and vine leaves.' - -In the warm sunset light outside the band played on, and Miss Vincent -flitted from group to group with the news that this Mr. Markham had -added to the romance which was already associated with his name, by -fainting in the room with the pictures. She was considerably surprised -and mortified to see him walking with Miss Gerald to the colonel's -carriage in half an hour afterwards. - -'I assure you,' she said to some one who was laughing at her,--'I -assure you I saw him fall against the window at the side of one of the -pictures. If he was not in earnest, he will make our theatricals a great -success, for he must be a splendid actor.' - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - - - Rightly to be great - - Is not to stir without great argument. - - So much was our love - - We would not understand what was most fit. - - She is so conjunctive to my life and soul - - That, as the star moves not but in his sphere, - - I could not but by her. - - How should I your true love know - - From another one?--_Hamlet_. - - -|ALL was not well with Mr. Standish MacDermot in these days. He was -still a guest at that pleasant little Dutch cottage of Colonel Gerald's -at Mowbray, and he received invitations daily to wherever Daireen -and her father were going. This was certainly all that he could have -expected to make him feel at ease in the strange land; but somehow he -did not feel at ease. He made himself extremely pleasant everywhere he -went, and he was soon a general favourite, though perhaps the few words -Mrs. Crawford now and again let fall on the subject of his parentage had -as large an influence as his own natural charm of manner in making the -young Irishman popular. Ireland was a curious place most of the people -at the Cape thought. They had heard of its rebellions and of its -secret societies, and they had thus formed an idea that the island was -something like a British colony of which the aborigines had hardly been -subdued. The impression that Standish was the son of one of the kings of -the land, who, like the Indian maharajahs, they believed, were allowed -a certain revenue and had their titles acknowledged by the British -Government, was very general; and Standish had certainly nothing -to complain of as to his treatment. But still all was not well with -Standish. - -He had received a letter from his father a week after his arrival -imploring him to return to the land of his sires, for The MacDermot -had learned from the ancient bard O'Brian, in whom the young man had -confided, that Standish's destination was the Cape, and so he had been -able to write to some address. The MacDermot promised to extend his -forgiveness to his son, and to withdraw his threat of disinheritance, if -he would return; and he concluded his letter by drawing a picture of -the desolation of the neighbourhood owing to the English projectors of -a railway and a tourists' hotel having sent a number of surveyors to -the very woods of Innishdermot to measure and plan and form all sorts of -evil intentions about the region. Under these trying circumstances, The -Mac-Dermot implored his son to grant him the consolation of his society -once more. What was still more surprising to Standish was the enclosure -in the letter of an order for a considerable sum of money, for he -fancied that his father had previously exhausted every available system -of leverage for the raising of money. - -But though it was very sad for Standish to hear of the old man sitting -desolate beside the lonely hearth of Innishdermot castle, he made up his -mind not to return to his home. He had set out to work in the world, and -he would work, he said. He would break loose from this pleasant life -he was at present leading, and he would work. Every night he made this -resolution, though as yet the concrete form of the thought as to what -sort of work he meant to set about had not suggested itself. He would -work nobly and manfully for her, he swore, and he would never tell her -of his love until he could lay his work at her feet and tell her that it -had been done all for her. Meantime he had gone to that garden party at -Government House and to several other entertainments, while nearly every -day he had been riding by the side of Daireen over The Flats or along -the beautiful road to Wynberg. - -And all the time that Standish was resolving not to open his lips in an -endeavour to express to Daireen all that was in his heart, another man -was beginning to feel that it would be necessary to take some step to -reveal himself to the girl. Arthur Harwood had been analyzing his own -heart every day since he had gazed out to the far still ocean from the -mountain above Funchal with Daireen beside him, and now he fancied he -knew every thought that was in his heart. - -He knew that he had been obliged to deny himself in his youth the luxury -of love. He had been working himself up to his present position by his -own industry and the use of the brains that he felt must be his capital -in life, and he knew he dared not even think of falling in love. But, -when he had passed the age of thirty and had made a name and a place for -himself in the world, he was aware that he might let his affections -go fetterless; but, alas, it seemed that they had been for too long in -slavery: they refused to taste the sweets of freedom, and it appeared -that his nature had become hard and unsympathetic. But it was neither, -he knew in his own soul, only he had been standing out of the world of -softness and of sympathy, and had built up for himself unconsciously an -ideal whose elements were various and indefinable, his imagination only -making it a necessity that not one of these elements of his ideal should -be possible to be found in the nature of any of the women with whom he -was acquainted and whom he had studied. - -When he had come to know Daireen Gerald--and he fancied he had come to -know her--he felt that he was no longer shut out from the world of love -with his cold ideal. He had thought of her day by day aboard the steamer -as he had thought of no girl hitherto in his life, and he had waited -for her to think of him and to become conscious that he loved her. -Considering that one of the most important elements of his vague ideal -was a complete and absolute unconsciousness of any passion, it was -scarcely consistent for him now to expect that Daireen should ever -perceive the feeling of his secret heart. - -He had, however, made up his mind to remain at the Cape instead of going -on to the Castaway Islands; and he had written long and interesting -letters to the newspaper which he represented, on the subject of the -attitude of the Kafir chief who, he heard, had been taking an attitude. -Then he had had several opportunities of riding the horse that Colonel -Gerald had placed at his disposal; but though he had walked and -conversed frequently with the daughter of Colonel Gerald, he felt that -it would be necessary for him to speak more directly what he at least -fancied was in his heart; so that while poor Standish was swearing every -night to keep his secret, Mr. Harwood was thinking by what means he -could contrive to reveal himself and find out what were the girl's -feelings with regard to himself. - -In the firmness of his resolution Standish was one afternoon, a few days -after the garden party, by the side of Daireen on the furthest extremity -of The Flats, where there was a small wood of pines growing in a sandy -soil of a glittering whiteness. They pulled up their horses here amongst -the trees, and Daireen looked out at the white plain beyond; but poor -Standish could only gaze upon her wistful face. - -'I like it,' she said musingly. 'I like that snow. Don't you think it is -snow, Standish?' - -'It is exactly the same,' he answered. 'I can feel a chill pass over me -as I look upon it. I hate it.' - -'Oh!' cried the girl, 'don't say that when I have said I like it.' - -'Why should that matter?' he said sternly, for he was feeling his -resolution very strong within him. - -She laughed. 'Why, indeed? Well, hate it as much as you wish, Standish, -it won't interfere with my loving it, and thinking of how I used to -enjoy the white winters at home. Then, you know, I used to be thinking -of places like this--places with plants like those aloes that the sun is -glittering over.' - -'And why I hate it,' said Standish, 'is because it puts me in mind of -the many wretched winters I spent in the miserable idleness of my -home. While others were allowed some chance of making their way in the -world--making names for themselves--there was I shut up in that gaol. -I have lost every chance I might have had--everyone is before me in the -race.' - -'In what race, Standish? In the race for fame?' - -'Yes, for fame,' cried Standish; 'not that I value fame for its own -sake,' he added. 'No, I don't covet it, except that--Daireen, I think -there is nothing left for me in the world--I am shut out from every -chance of reaching anything. I was wretched at home, but I feel even -more wretched here.' - -'Why should you do that, Standish?' she asked, turning her eyes upon -him. 'I am sure everyone here is very kind.' - -'I don't want their kindness, Daireen; it is their kindness that makes -me feel an impostor. What right have I to receive their kindness? Yes, I -had better take my father's advice and return by next mail. I am useless -in the world--it doesn't want me.' - -'Don't talk so stupidly--so wickedly,' said the girl gravely. 'You are -not a coward to set out in the world and turn back discouraged even -before you have got anything to discourage you.' - -'I am no coward,' he said; 'but everything has been too hard for me. I -am a fool--a wretched fool to have set my heart--my soul, upon an object -I can never reach.' - -'What do you mean, Standish? You haven't set your heart upon anything -that you may not gain in time. You will, I know, if you have courage, -gain a good and noble name for yourself.' - -'Of what use would it be to me, Daireen? It would only be a mockery to -me--a bitter mockery unless--Oh, Daireen, it must come, you have forced -it from me--I will tell you and then leave you for ever--Daireen, I -don't care for anything in the world but to have you love me--a little, -Daireen. What would a great name be to me unless----' - -'Hush, Standish,' said the girl with her face flushed and almost angry. -'Do not ever speak to me like this again. Why should all our good -friendship come to an end?' She had softened towards the close of her -sentence, and she was now looking at him in tenderness. - -'You have forced me to speak,' he said. 'God knows how I have struggled -to hold my secret deep down in my heart--how I have sworn to hold it, -but it forced itself out--we are not masters of ourselves, Daireen. Now -tell me to leave you--I am prepared for it, for my dream, I knew, was -bound to vanish at a touch.' - -'Considering that I am four miles from home and in a wood, I cannot -tell you to do that,' she said with a laugh, for all her anger had been -driven away. 'Besides that, I like you far too well to turn you away; -but, Standish, you must never talk so to me again. Now, let us return.' - -'I know I must not, because I am a beggar,' he said almost madly. 'You -will love some one who has had a chance of making a name for himself in -the world. I have had no chance.' - -'Standish, I am waiting for you to return.' - -'Yes, I have seen them sitting beside you aboard the steamer,' continued -Standish bitterly, 'and I knew well how it would be.' He looked at her -almost fiercely. 'Yes, I knew it--you have loved one of them.' - -Daireen's face flushed fearfully and then became deathly pale as she -looked at him. She did not utter a word, but looked into his face -steadily with an expression he had never before seen upon hers. He -became frightened. - -'Daireen--dearest Daireen, forgive me,' he cried. I am a fool--no, -worse--I don't know what I say. Daireen, pity me and forgive me. Don't -look at me that way, for God's sake. Speak to me.' - -'Come away,' she said gently. 'Come away, Standish.' - -'But tell me you forgive me, Daireen,' he pleaded. - -'Come away,' she said. - -She turned her horse's head towards the track which was made through -that fine white sand and went on from amongst the pines. He followed her -with a troubled mind, and they rode side by side over the long flats -of heath until they had almost reached the lane of cactus leading to -Mowbray. In a few minutes they would be at the Dutch cottage, and yet -they had not interchanged a word. Standish could not endure the silence -any longer. He pulled up his horse suddenly. - -'Daireen,' he said. 'I have been a fool--a wicked fool, to talk to you -as I did. I cannot go on until you say you forgive me.' - -Then she turned round and smiled on him, holding out her hand. - -'We are very foolish, Standish,' she said. 'We are both very foolish. -Why should I think anything of what you said? We are still good friends, -Standish.' - -'God bless you!' he cried, seizing her hand fervently. 'I will not make -myself a fool again.' 'And I,' said the girl, 'I will not be a fool -again.' - -So they rode back together. But though Standish had received forgiveness -he was by no means satisfied with the girl's manner. There was an -expression that he could not easily read in that smile she had given -him. He had meant to be very bitter towards her, but had not expected -her to place him in a position requiring forgiveness. She had forgiven -him, it was true, but then that smile of hers--what was that sad wistful -expression upon her face? He could not tell, but he felt that on the -whole he had not gained much by the resolutions he had made night -after night. He was inclined to be dissatisfied with the result of his -morning's ride, nor was this feeling perceptibly decreased by seeing -beneath one of the broad-leaved trees that surrounded the cottage the -figure of Mr. Arthur Harwood by the side of Colonel Gerald. - -Harwood came forward as Daireen reined up on the avenue. - -'I have come to say good-bye to you,' he said, looking up to her face. - -'Good-bye?' she answered. 'Why, you haven't said good-morning yet.' - -Mr. Harwood was a clever man and he knew it; but his faculty for reading -what was passing in another person's mind did not bring him happiness -always. He had made use of what he meant to be a test sentence to -Daireen, and the result of his observation of its effect was not wholly -pleasant to him. He had hoped for a little flush--a little trembling of -the hand, but neither had come; a smile was on her face, and the pulses -of the hand she held out to him were unruffled. He knew then that the -time had not yet come for him to reveal himself. - -But why should you say good-bye?' she asked after she had greeted him. - -'Well, perhaps I should only say _au revoir_, though, upon my word, the -state of the colony is becoming so critical that one going up country -should always say good-bye. Yes, my duties call me to leave all this -pleasant society, Miss Gerald. I am going among the Zulus for a while.' - -'I have every confidence in you, Mr. Harwood,' she said. 'You will -return in safety. We will miss you greatly, but I know how much the -people at home will be benefited by hearing the result of your visit; so -we resign ourselves to your absence. But indeed we shall miss you.' - -'And if a treacherous assegai should transfix me, I trust my fate will -draw a single tear,' he said. - -There was a laugh as Daireen rode round to dismount and Harwood went -in to lunch. It was very pleasant chat he felt, but he was as much -dissatisfied with her laugh as Standish had been with her smile. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - - - Sure, He that made us with such large discourse, - - Looking before and after, gave us not - - That capability and godlike reason - - To fust in us unused. - - Yet do I believe - - The origin and commencement of his grief - - Sprung from neglected love. - - ... he repulsed--a short tale to make-- - - Fell into a sadness, then into a fast, - - Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness, - - Thence to a lightness; and by this declension - - Into the madness.--_Hamlet._ - - -|THE very pleasantness of the lunch Harwood had at the Dutch cottage -made his visit seem more unsatisfactory to him. He had come up to the -girl with that sentence which should surely have sounded pathetic even -though spoken with indifference. He was beside her to say good-bye. He -had given her to understand that he was going amongst the dangers of a -disturbed part of the country, but the name of the barbarous nation had -not made her cheek pale. It was well enough for himself to make light -of his adventurous undertaking, but he did not think that her smiles in -telling him that she would miss him were altogether becoming. - -Yes, as he rode towards Cape Town he felt that the time had not yet -come for him to reveal himself to Daireen Gerald. He would have to be -patient, as he had been for years. - -Thus far he had found out negatively how Daireen felt towards himself: -she liked him, he knew, but only as most women liked him, because -he could tell them in an agreeable way things that they wanted to -know--because he had travelled everywhere and had become distinguished. -He was not a conceited man, but he knew exactly how he stood in the -estimation of people, and it was bitter for him to reflect that he -did not stand differently with regard to Miss Gerald. But he had not -attempted to discover what were Daireen's feelings respecting any one -else. He was well aware that Mrs. Crawford was anxious to throw Mr. -Glaston in the way of the girl as much as possible; but he felt that it -would take a long time for Mr. Glaston to make up his mind to sacrifice -himself at Daireen's feet, and Daireen was far too sensible to be -imposed upon by his artistic flourishes. As for this young Mr. Standish -Macnamara, Harwood saw at once that Daireen regarded him with a -friendliness that precluded the possibility of love, so he did not fear -the occupation of the girl's heart by Standish. But when Harwood began -to think of Oswin Markham--he heard the sound of a horse's hoofs behind -him, and Oswin Markham himself trotted up, looking dusty and fatigued. - -“I thought I should know your animal,” said Markham, “and I made an -effort to overtake you, though I meant to go easily into the town.” - -Harwood looked at him and then at his horse. - -“You seem as if you owed yourself a little ease,” he said. “You -must have done a good deal in the way of riding, judging from your -appearance.” - -“A great deal too much,” replied Markham. “I have been on the saddle -since breakfast.” - -“You have been out every morning for the past three days before I have -left my room. I was quite surprised when I heard it, after the evidence -you gave at the garden party of your weakness.” - -“Of my weakness, yes,” said Markham, with a little laugh. “It was -wretchedly weak to allow myself to be affected by the change from the -open air to that room, but it felt stifling to me.” - -“I didn't feel the difference to be anything considerable,” said -Harwood; “so the fact of your being overcome by it proves that you are -not in a fit state to be playing with your constitution. Where did you -ride to-day?” - -“Where? Upon my word I have not the remotest idea,” said Markham. “I -took the road out to Simon's Bay, but I pulled up at a beach on the -nearer side of it, and remained there for a good while.” - -“Nothing could be worse than riding about in this aimless sort of way. -Here you are completely knocked up now, as you have been for the past -three evenings. Upon my word, you seem indifferent as to whether or not -you ever leave the colony alive. You are simply trifling with yourself.” - -“You are right, I suppose,” said Markham wearily. “But what is a fellow -to do in Cape Town? One can't remain inactive beyond a certain time.” - -“It is only within the past three days you have taken up this roving -notion,” said Harwood. “It is in fact only since that Government House -affair.” Markham turned and looked at him eagerly for a moment. “Yes, -since your weakness became apparent to yourself, you have seemed bound -to prove your strength to the furthest. But you are pushing it too far, -my boy. You'll find out your mistake.” - -“Perhaps so,” laughed the other. “Perhaps so. By the way, is it true -that you are going up country, Harwood?” - -“Quite true. The fact is that affairs are becoming critical with regard -to our relations with the Zulus, and unless I am greatly mistaken, this -colony will be the centre of interest before many months have passed.” - -“There is nothing I should like better than to go up with you, Harwood.” - -Harwood shook his head. “You are not strong enough, my boy,” he said. - -There was a pause before Markham said slowly: - -“No, I am not strong enough.” - -Then they rode into Cape Town together, and dismounted at their hotel; -and, certainly, as he walked up the stairs to his room, Oswin Markham -looked anything but strong enough to undertake a journey into the Veldt. -Doctor Campion would probably have spoken unkindly to him had he seen -him now, haggard and weary, with his day spent on an exposed road -beneath a hot sun. - -“He is anything but strong enough,” said Harwood to himself as he -watched the other man; and then he recollected the tone in which Markham -had repeated those words, “I am not strong enough.” Was it possible, he -asked himself, that Markham meant that his strength of purpose was not -sufficiently great? He thought over this question for some time, and the -result of his reflection was to make him wish that he had not thought -the conduct of that defiant chief of such importance as demanded the -personal observation of the representative of the _Dominant Trumpeter_. -He felt that he would like to search out the origin of the weakness of -Mr. Oswin Markham. - -But all the time these people were thinking their thoughts and making -their resolutions upon various subjects, Mr. Algernon Glaston was -remaining in the settled calm of artistic rectitude. He was awaiting -with patience the arrival of his father from the Salamander Archipelago, -though he had given the prelate of that interesting group to understand -that circumstances would render it impossible for his son to remain -longer than a certain period at the Cape, so that if he desired the -communion of his society it would be necessary to allow the mission work -among the Salamanders to take care of itself. For Mr. Glaston was by no -means unaware of the sacrifice he was in the habit of making annually -for the sake of passing a few weeks with his father in a country far -removed from all artistic centres. The Bishop of the Calapash Islands -and Metropolitan of the Salamander Archipelago had it several times -urged upon him that his son was a marvel of filial duty for undertaking -this annual journey, so that he, no doubt, felt convinced of the fact; -and though this visit added materially to the expenses of his son's mode -of life, which, of course, were defrayed by the bishop, yet the bishop -felt that this addition was, after all, trifling compared with the value -of the sentiment of filial affection embodied in the annual visit to the -Cape. - -Mr. Glaston had allowed his father a margin of three weeks for any -impediments that might arise to prevent his leaving the Salamanders, but -a longer space he could not, he assured his father, remain awaiting his -arrival from the sunny islands of his see. Meantime he was dining out -night after night with his friends at the Cape, and taking daily drives -and horse-exercise for the benefit of his health. Upon the evening when -Harwood and Markham entered the hotel together, Mr. Glaston was just -departing to join a dinner-party which was to assemble at the house of -a certain judge, and as Harwood was also to be a guest, he was compelled -to dress hastily. - -Oswin Markham was not, however, aware of the existence of the hospitable -judge, so he remained in the hotel. He was tired almost to a point of -prostration after his long aimless ride, but a bath and a dinner revived -him, and after drinking his coffee he threw himself upon a sofa and -slept for some hours. When he awoke it was dark, and then lighting a -cigar he went out to the balcony that ran along the upper windows, and -seated himself in the cool air that came landwards from the sea. - -He watched the soldiers in white uniform crossing the square; he saw -the Malay population who had been making a holiday, returning to their -quarter of the town, the men with their broad conical straw hats, the -women with marvellously coloured shawls; he saw the coolies carrying -their burdens, and the Hottentots and the Kafirs and all the races -blended in the motley population of Cape Town. He glanced listlessly at -all, thinking his own thoughts undisturbed by any incongruity of tongues -or of races beneath him, and he was only awakened from the reverie into -which he had fallen by the opening of one of the windows near him and -the appearance on the balcony of Algernon Glaston in his dinner dress -and smoking a choice cigar. - -The generous wine of the generous judge had made Mr. Glaston -particularly courteous, for he drew his chair almost by the side of -Markham's and inquired after his health. - -“Harwood was at that place to-night,” he said, “and he mentioned -that you were killing yourself. Just like these newspaper fellows to -exaggerate fearfully for the sake of making a sensation. You are all -right now, I think.” - -“Quite right,” said Markham. “I don't feel exactly like an elephant -for vigour, but you know what it is to feel strong without having any -particular strength. I am that way.” - -“Dreadfully brutal people I met to-night,” continued Mr. Glaston -reflectively. “Sort of people Harwood could get on with. Talking -actually about some wretched savage--some Zulu chief or other from whom -they expect great things; as if the action of a ruffianly barbarian -could affect any one. It was quite disgusting talk. I certainly would -have come away at once only I was lucky enough to get by the side of a -girl who seems to know something of Art--a Miss Vincent--she is quite -fresh and enthusiastic on the subject--quite a child indeed.” - -Markham thought it prudent to light a fresh cigar from the end of the -one he had smoked, at the interval left by Mr. Glaston for his comment, -so that a vague “indeed” was all that came through his closed lips. - -“Yes, she seems rather a tractable sort of little thing. By the way, she -mentioned something about your having become faint at Government House -the other day, before you had seen all my pictures.” - -“Ah, yes,” said Markham. “The change from the open air to that room.” - -“Ah, of course. Miss Vincent seems to understand something of the -meaning of the pictures. She was particularly interested in one of them, -which, curiously enough, is the most wonderful of the collection. Did -you study them all?” - -“No, not all; the fact was, that unfortunate weakness of mine interfered -with my scrutiny,” said Markham. “But the single glance I had at one -of the pictures convinced me that it was a most unusual work. I felt -greatly interested in it.” - -“That was the Aholibah, no doubt.” - -“Yes, I heard your description of how if came to be painted.” - -“Ah, but that referred only to the marvellous expression of the face--so -saturate--so devoured--with passion. You saw how Miss Gerald turned away -from it with a shudder?” - -“Why did she do that?” said Markham. - -“Heaven knows,” said Glaston, with a little sneer. - -“Heaven knows,” said Markham, after a pause and without any sneer. - -“She could not understand it,” continued Glaston. “All that that face -means cannot be apprehended in a glance. It has a significance of its -own--it is a symbol of a passion that withers like a fire--a passion -that can destroy utterly all the beauty of a life that might have been -intense with beauty. You are not going away, are you?” - -Markham had risen from his seat and turned away his head, grasping the -rail of the balcony. It was some moments before he started and looked -round at the other man. “I beg your pardon,” he said; “I'm not going -away, I am greatly interested. Yes, I caught a glimpse of the expression -of the face.” - -“It is a miracle of power,” continued Glaston. “Miss Gerald felt, but -she could not understand why she should feel, its power.” - -There was a long pause, during which Markham stared blankly across the -square, and the other leant back in his chair and watched the curling of -his cigar clouds through the still air. From the garrison at the castle -there came to them the sound of a bugle-call. - -“I am greatly interested in that picture,” said Markham at length. “I -should like to know all the details of its working out.” - -“The expression of the face----” - -“Ah, I know all of that. I mean the scene--that hill seen through the -arch--the pavement of the oriental apartment--the--the figure--how did -the painter bring them together?” - -“That is of little consequence in the study of the elements of the -symbolism,” said Mr. Glaston. - -“Yes, of course it is; but still I should like to know.” - -“I really never thought of putting any question to the painter about -these matters,” replied Glaston. “He had travelled in the East, and the -kiosk was amongst his sketches; as for the model of the figure, if I do -not mistake, I saw the study for the face in an old portfolio of his he -brought from Sicily.” - -“Ah, indeed.” - -“But these are mere accidents in the production of the picture. The -symbolism is the picture.” - -Again there was a pause, and the chatter of a couple of Malays in the -street became louder, and then fainter, as the speakers drew near and -passed away. - -“Glaston,” said Markham at length, “did you remove the pictures from -Government House?” - -“They are in one of my rooms,” said Glaston. “Would you think it a piece -of idle curiosity if I were to step upstairs and take a look at that -particular work?” - -“You could not see it by lamplight. You can study them all in the -morning.” - -“But I feel in the mood just now, and you know how much depends upon the -mood.” - -“My room is open,” said Glaston. “But the idea that has possessed you is -absurd.” - -“I dare say, I dare say, but I have become interested in all that you -have told me; I must try and--and understand the symbolism.” - -He left the balcony before Mr. Glaston had made up his mind as to -whether there was a touch of sarcasm in his voice uttering the final -sentence. - -“Not worse than the rest of the uneducated world,” murmured the Art -prophet condescendingly. - -But in Mr. Glaston's private room upstairs Oswin Markham was standing -holding a lighted lamp up to that interesting picture and before that -wonderful symbolic expression upon the face of the figure; the rest of -the room was in darkness. He looked up to the face that the lamplight -gloated over. The remainder of the picture was full of reflections of -the light. - -“A power that can destroy utterly all the beauty of a life,” he said, -repeating the analysis of Mr. Glaston. He continued looking at it before -he repeated another of that gentleman's sentences--“She felt, but could -not understand, its power.” He laid the lamp on the table and walked -over to the darkened window and gazed out. But once more he returned -to the picture. “A passion that can destroy utterly all the beauty of -life,” he said again. “Utterly! that is a lie!” He remained with his -eyes upon the picture for some moments, then he lifted the lamp and went -to the door. At the door he stopped, glanced at the picture and laughed. - -In the Volsunga Saga there is an account of how a jealous woman listens -outside the chamber where a man whom she once loved is being murdered in -his wife's arms; hearing the cry of the wife in the chamber the woman at -the door laughs. A man beside her says, “Thou dost not laugh because thy -heart is made glad, or why moves that pallor upon thy face?” - -Oswin Markham left the room and thanked Mr. Glaston for having gratified -his whim. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - - - ... What he spake, though it lacked form a little, - - Was not like madness. There's something in his soul - - O'er which his melancholy sits on brood. - - Purpose is but the slave to memory. - - Most necessary 'tis that we forget.--_Hamlet._ - - -|THE long level rays of the sun that was setting in crimson splendour -were touching the bright leaves of the silver-fir grove on one side of -the ravine traversing the slope of the great peaked hill which makes -the highest point of Table Mountain, but the other side was shadowy. The -flat face of the precipice beneath the long ridge of the mountain was -full of fantastic gleams of red in its many crevices, and far away a -thin waterfall seemed a shimmering band of satin floating downwards -through a dark bed of rocks. Table Bay was lying silent and with hardly' -a sparkle upon its ripples from where the outline of Robbin Island was -seen at one arm of its crescent to the white sand of the opposite shore. -The vineyards of the lower slope, beneath which the red road crawled, -were dim and colourless, for the sunset bands had passed away from them -and flared only upon the higher slopes. - -Upon the summit of the ridge of the silver-fir ravine Daireen Gerald sat -looking out to where the sun was losing itself among the ridges of the -distant kloof, and at her feet was Oswin Markham. Behind them rose the -rocks of the Peak with their dark green herbage. Beneath them the soft -rustle of a songless bird was heard through the foliage. - -But it remains to be told how those two persons came to be watching -together the phenomenon of sunset from the slope. - -It was Mrs. Crawford who had upon the very day after the departure of -Arthur Harwood organised one of those little luncheon parties which are -so easily organised and give promise of pleasures so abundant. She had -expressed to Mr. Harwood the grief she felt at his being compelled by -duty to depart from the midst of their circle, just as she had said to -Mr. Markham how bowed down she had been at the reflection of his leaving -the steamer at St. Helena; and Harwood had thanked her for her kind -expressions, and made a mental resolve that he would say something -sarcastic regarding the Army Boot Commission in his next communication -to the _Dominant Trumpeter_. But the hearing of the gun of the mail -steamer that was to convey the special correspondent to Natal was the -pleasantest sensation Mrs. Crawford had experienced for long. She had -been very anxious on Harwood's account for some time. She did not by -any means think highly of the arrangement which had been made by Colonel -Gerald to secure for one of his horses an amount of exercise by allowing -Mr. Harwood to ride it; for she was well aware that Mr. Harwood would -think it quite within the line of his duty to exercise the animal at -times when Miss Gerald would be riding out. She knew that most girls -liked Mr. Harwood, and whatever might be Mr. Harwood's feelings towards -the race that so complimented him, she could not doubt that he admired -to a perilous point the daughter of Colonel Gerald. If, then, the girl -would return his feeling, what would become of Mrs. Crawford's hopes for -Mr. Glaston? - -It was the constant reflection upon this question that caused the sound -of the mail gun to fall gratefully upon the ears of the major's wife. -Harwood was to be away for more than a month at any rate, and in a month -much might be accomplished, not merely by a special correspondent, but -by a lady with a resolute mind and a strategical training. So she had -set her mind to work, and without delay had organised what gave promise -of being a delightful little lunch, issuing half a dozen invitations -only three days in advance. - -Mr. Algernon Glaston had, after some persuasion, promised to join the -party. Colonel Gerald and his daughter expressed the happiness they -would have at being present, and Mr. Standish Macnamara felt certain -that nothing could interfere with his delight. Then there were the two -daughters of a member of the Legislative Council who were reported to -look with fond eyes upon the son of one of the justices of the Supreme -Court, a young gentleman who was also invited. Lastly, by what Mrs. -Crawford considered a stroke of real constructive ability, Mr. Oswin -Markham and Miss Lottie Vincent were also begged to allow themselves to -be added to the number of the party. Mrs. Crawford disliked Lottie, -but that was no reason why Lottie should not exercise the tactics Mrs. -Crawford knew she possessed, to take care of Mr. Oswin Markham for the -day. - -They would have much to talk about regarding the projected dramatic -entertainment of the young lady, so that Mr. Glaston should be left -solitary in that delightful listless after-space of lunch, unless -indeed--and the contingency was, it must be confessed, suggested to the -lady--Miss Gerald might chance to remain behind the rest of the party; -in that case it would not seem beyond the bounds of possibility that the -weight of Mr. Glaston's loneliness would be endurable. - -Everything had been carried out with that perfect skill which can be -gained only by experience. The party had driven from Mowbray for a -considerable way up the hill. The hampers had been unpacked and the -lunch partaken of in a shady nook which was supposed to be free from the -venomous reptiles that make picnics somewhat risky enjoyments in sunny -lands; and then the young people had trooped away to gather Venus-hair -ferns at the waterfall, or silver leaves from the grove, or bronze-green -lizards, or some others of the offspring of nature which have come into -existence solely to meet the requirements of collectors. Mr. Glaston and -Daireen followed more leisurely, and Mrs. Crawford's heart was happy. -The sun would be setting in an hour, she reflected, and she had great -confidence in the effect of fine sunsets upon the hearts of lovers--. -nay, upon the raw material that might after a time develop into the -hearts of lovers. She was quite satisfied seeing the young people -depart, for she was not aware how much more pleasant than Oswin Markham -Lottie Vincent had found Mr. Glaston at that judge's dinner-party a -few evenings previous, nor how much more plastic than Miss Gerald Mr. -Glaston had found Lottie Vincent upon the same occasion. - -Mrs. Crawford did not think it possible that Lottie could be so clever, -even if she had had the inclination, as to effect the separation of -the party as it had been arranged. But Lottie had by a little manouvre -waited at the head of the ravine until Mr. Glaston and Daireen had -come up, and then she had got into conversation with Mr. Glaston upon a -subject that was a blank to the others, so that they had walked quietly -on together until that pleasant space at the head of the ravine was -reached. There Daireen had seated herself to watch the west become -crimson with sunset, and at her feet Oswin had cast himself to watch her -face. - -Had Mrs. Crawford been aware of this, she would scarcely perhaps have -been so pleasant to her friend Colonel Gerald, or to her husband far -down on the slope. - -It was very silent at the head of that ravine. The delicate splash of -the water that trickled through the rocks far away was distinctly heard. -The rosy bands that had been about the edges of the silver leaves had -passed off. Daireen's face was at last left in shadow, and she turned to -watch the rays move upwards, until soon only the dark Peak was enwound -in the red light that made its forehead like the brows of an ancient -Bacchanal encircled with a rose-wreath. Then quickly the red dwindled -away, until only a single rose-leaf was upon the highest point; an -instant more and it had passed, leaving the hill dark and grim in -outline against the pale blue. - -Then succeeded that time of silent conflict between light and -darkness--a time of silence and of wonder. - -Upon the slope of the Peak it was silent enough. The girl's eyes went -out across the shadowy plain below to where the water was shining in its -own gray light, but she uttered not a word. The man leant his head upon -his hand as he looked up to her face. - -“What is the 'Ave' you are breathing to the sunset, Miss Gerald?” he -said at length, and she gave a little start and looked at him. “What is -the vesper hymn your heart has been singing all this time?” - -She laughed. “No hymn, no song.” - -“I saw it upon your face,” he said. “I saw its melody in your eyes; and -yet--yet I cannot understand it--I am too gross to be able to translate -it. I suppose if a man had sensitive hearing the wind upon the blades -of grass would make good music to him, but most people are dull to -everything but the rolling of barrels and such-like music.” - -“I had not even a musical thought,” said the girl. “I am afraid that if -all I thought were translated into words, the result would be a jumble: -you know what that means.” - -“Yes. Heaven is a jumble, isn't it? A bit of wonderful blue here, and -a shapeless cloud there--a few faint breaths of music floating about a -place of green, and an odour of a field of flowers. Yes, all dreams are -jumbles.” - -“And I was dreaming?” she said. “Yes, I dare say my confusion of thought -without a single idea may be called by courtesy a dream.” - -“And now have you awakened?” - -“Dreams must break and dissolve some time, I suppose, Mr. Markham.” - -“They must, they must,” he said. “I wonder when will my awaking come.” - -“Have you a dream?” she asked, with a laugh. - -“I am living one,” he answered. - -“Living one?” - -“Living one. My life has become a dream to me. How am I beside you? How -is it possible that I could be beside you? Either of two things must -be a dream--either my past life is a dream, or I am living one in this -life.” - -“Is there so vast a difference between them?” she asked, looking at him. -His eyes were turned away from her. - -“Vast? Vast?” he repeated musingly. Then he rose to his feet and looked -out oceanwards. “I don't know what is vast,” he said. Then he looked -down to her. “Miss Gerald, I don't believe that my recollection of my -past is in the least correct. My memory is a falsehood utterly. For it -is quite impossible that this body of mine--this soul of mine--could -have passed through such a change as I must have passed through if -my memory has got anything of truth in it. My God! my God! The -recollections that come to me are, I know, impossible.” - -“I don't understand you, Mr. Markham,” said Daireen. - -Once more he threw himself on the short tawny herbage beside her. - -“Have you not heard of men being dragged back when they have taken a -step beyond the barrier that hangs between life and death--men who have -had one foot within the territory of death?” - -“I have heard of that.” - -“And you know it is not the same old life that a man leads when he -is brought from that dominion of death. He begins life anew. He knows -nothing of the past. He laughs at the faces that were once familiar to -him; they mean nothing to him. His past is dead. Think of me, child. -Day by day I suffered all the agonies of death and hell, and shall I not -have granted to me that most righteous gift of God? Shall not my past -be utterly blotted out? Yes, these vague memories that I have are the -memories of a dream. God has not been so just to me as to others, for -there are some realities of the past still with me I know, and thus I am -at times led to think it might be possible that all my recollections are -true--but no, it is impossible--utterly impossible.” Again he leapt to -his feet and clasped his hands over his head. “Child--child, if you knew -all, you would pity me,” he said, in a tone no louder than a whisper. - -She had never heard anything so pitiful before. Seeing the agony of the -man, and hearing him trying to convince himself of that at which his -reason rebelled, was terribly pitiful to her. She never before that -moment knew how she felt towards this man to whom she had given life. - -“What can I say of comfort to you?” she said. “You have all the sympathy -of my heart. Why will you not ask me to help you? What is my pity?” - -He knelt beside her. “Be near me,” he said. “Let me look at you now. Is -there not a bond between us?--such a bond as binds man to his God? You -gave me my life as a gift, and it will be a true life now. God had no -pity for me, but you have more than given me your pity. The life you -have given me is better than the life given me by God.” - -“Do not say that,” she said. “Do not think that I have given you -anything. It is your God who has changed you through those days of -terrible suffering.” - -“Yes, the suffering is God's gift,” he cried bitterly. “Torture of days -and nights, and then not utter forgetfulness. After passing through -the barrier of death, I am denied the blessings that should come with -death.” - -“Why should you wish to forget anything of the past?” she asked. “Has -everything been so very terrible to you?” - -“Terrible?” he said, clasping his hands over one of his knees and gazing -out to the conflict of purple and shell-pink in the west. “No, nothing -was terrible. I am no Corsair with a hundred romantic crimes to give -me so much remorseful agony as would enable me to act the part of Count -Lara with consistency. I am no Lucifer encircled with a halo of splendid -wickedness. It is only the change that has passed over me since I felt -myself looking at you that gives me this agony of thought. Wasted time -is my only sin--hours cast aside--years trampled upon. I lived for -myself as I had a chance--as thousands of others do, and it did not seem -to me anything terrible that I should make my father's days miserable to -him. I did not feel myself to be the curse to him that I now know myself -to have been. I was a curse to him. He had only myself in the world--no -other son, and yet I could leave him to die alone--yes, and to die -offering me his forgiveness--offering it when it was not in my power -to refuse to accept it. This is the memory that God will not take away. -Nay, I tell you it seems that instead of being blotted out by my days of -suffering it is but intensified.” - -He had bowed down his face upon his hands as he sat there. Her eyes were -full of tears of sympathy and compassion--she felt with him, and his -sufferings were hers. - -“I pity you--with all my soul I pity you,” she said, laying her hand -upon his shoulder. - -He turned and took her hand, holding it not with a fervent grasp; but in -his face that looked up to her tearful eyes there was a passion of love -and adoration. - -“As a man looks to his God I look to you,” he said. “Be near me that the -life you have given me may be good. Let me think of you, and the dead -Past shall bury its dead.” - -What answer could she make to him? The tears continued to come to her -eyes as she sat while he looked into her face. - -“You know,” she said--“you know I feel for you. You know that I -understand you.” - -“Not all,” he said slowly. “I am only beginning to understand myself; I -have never done so in all my life hitherto.” - -Then they watched the delicate shadowy dimness--not gray, but full of -the softest azure--begin to swathe the world beneath them. The waters -of the bay were reflecting the darkening sky, and out over the ocean -horizon a single star was beginning to breathe through the blue. - -“Daireen,” he said at length, “is the bond between us one of love?” - -There was no passion in his voice, nor was his hand that held hers -trembling as he spoke. She gave no start at his words, nor did she -withdraw her hand. Through the silence the splash of the waterfall above -them was heard clearly. She looked at him through the long pause. - -“I do not know,” she said. “I cannot answer you yet----No, not yet--not -yet.” - -“I will not ask,” he said quietly. “Not yet--not yet.” And he dropped -her hand. - -Then he rose and looked out to that star, which was no longer smothered -in the splendid blue of the heavens, but was glowing in passion until -the waters beneath caught some of its rays. - -There was a long pause before a voice sounded behind them on the -slope--the musical voice of Miss Lottie Vincent. - -“Did you ever see such a sentimental couple?” she cried, raising her -hands with a very pretty expression of mock astonishment. “Watching the -twilight as if you were sitting for your portraits, while here we have -been searching for you over hill and dale. Have we not, Mr. Glaston?” - -Mr. Glaston thought it unnecessary to corroborate a statement made with -such evident ingenuousness. - -“Well, your search met with its reward, I hope, Miss Vincent,” said -Oswin. - -“What, in finding you?” - -“I am not so vain as to fancy it possible that you should accept that as -a reward, Miss Vincent,” he replied. - -The young lady gave him a glance that was meant to read his inmost soul. -Then she laughed. - -“We must really hasten back to good Mamma Crawford,” she said, with a -seriousness that seemed more frivolous than her frivolity. “Every one -will be wondering where we have been.” - -“Lucky that you will be able to tell them,” remarked Oswin. - -“How?” she said quickly, almost apprehensively. - -“Why, you know you can say 'Over hill, over dale,' and so satisfy even -the most sceptical in a moment.” - -Miss Lottie made a little pause, then laughed again; she did not think -it necessary to make any reply. - -And so they all went down by the little track along the edge of the -ravine, and the great Peak became darker above them as the twilight -dwindled into evening. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - - - I have remembrances of yours-- - - ... words of so sweet breath composed - - As made the things more rich. - - Hamlet.... You do remember all the circumstance? - - Horatio. Remember it, my lord? - - Hamlet. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting - - That would not let me sleep. - - ... poor Ophelia, - - Divided from herself and her fair judgment. - - Sleep rock thy brain, - - And never come mischance.--_Hamlet._ - - -|MRS. Crawford was not in the least apprehensive of the safety of the -young people who had been placed under her care upon this day. She had -been accustomed in the good old days at Arradambad, when the scorching -inhabitants had lifted their eyes unto the hills, and had fled to their -cooling slopes, to organise little open-air tiffins for the benefit of -such young persons as had come out to visit the British Empire in the -East under the guidance of the major's wife, and the result of her -experience went to prove that it was quite unnecessary to be in the -least degree nervous regarding the ultimate welfare of the young persons -who were making collections of the various products of Nature. It was -much better for the young persons to learn self-dependence, she thought, -and though many of the maidens under her care had previously, through -long seasons at Continental watering-places, become acquainted with -a few of the general points to be observed in maintaining a course of -self-dependence, yet the additional help that came to them from the -hills was invaluable. - -As Mrs. Crawford now gave a casual glance round the descending party, -she felt that her skill as a tactician was not on the wane. They were -walking together, and though Lottie was of course chatting away as -flippantly as ever, yet both Markham and Mr. Glaston was very silent, -she saw, and her conclusions were as rapid as those of an accustomed -campaigner should be. Mr. Glaston had been talking to Daireen in the -twilight, so that Lottie's floss-chat was a trouble to him; while Oswin -Markham was wearied with having listened for nearly an hour to her -inanities, and was seeking for the respite of silence. - -“You naughty children, to stray away in that fashion!” she cried. “Do -you fancy you had permission to lose yourselves like that?” - -“Did we lose ourselves, Miss Vincent?” said Markham. - -“We certainly did not,” said Lottie, and then Mrs. Crawford's first -suggestions were confirmed: Lottie and Markham spoke of themselves, -while Daireen and Mr. Glaston were mute. - -“It was very naughty of you,” continued the matron. “Why, in India, if -you once dared do such a thing----” - -“We should do it for ever,” cried Lottie. “Now, you know, my dear good -Mrs. Crawford, I have been in India, and I have had experience of -your picnics when we were at the hills--oh, the most delightful little -affairs--every one used to look forward to them.” - -Mrs. Crawford laughed gently as she patted Lottie on the cheek. “Ah, -they were now and again successes, were they not? How I wish Daireen had -been with us.” - -“Egad, she would not be with us now, my dear,” said the major. “Eh, -George, what do you say, my boy?” - -“For shame, major,” cried Mrs. Crawford, glancing towards Lottie. - -“Eh, what?” said the bewildered Boot Commissioner, who meant to be very -gallant indeed. It was some moments before he perceived how Miss Vincent -could construe his words, and then he attempted an explanation, which -made matters worse. “My dear, I assure you I never meant that your -attractions were not--not--ah--most attractive, they were, I assure -you--you were then most attractive.” - -“And so far from having waned,” said Colonel Gerald, “it would seem that -every year has but----” - -“Why, what on earth is the meaning of this raid of compliments on poor -little me?” cried the young lady in the most artless manner, glancing -from the major to the colonel with uplifted hands. - -“Let us hasten to the carriages, and leave these old men to talk their -nonsense to each other,” said Mrs. Crawford, putting her arm about one -of the daughters of the member of the Legislative Council--a young lady -who had found the companionship of Standish Macnamara quite as pleasant -as her sister had the guidance of the judge's son up the ravine--and so -they descended to where the carriages were waiting to take them towards -Cape Town. Daireen and her father were to walk to the Dutch cottage, -which was but a short distance away, and with them, of course, Standish. - -“Good-bye, my dear child,” said Mrs. Crawford, embracing Daireen, while -the others talked in a group. “You are looking pale, dear, but never -mind; I will drive out and have a long chat with you in a couple of -days,” she whispered, in a way she meant to be particularly impressive. - -Then the carriage went off, and Daireen put her hand through her -father's arm, and walked silently in the silent evening to the house -among the aloes and Australian oaks, through whose leaves the fireflies -were flitting in myriads. - -“She is a good woman,” said Colonel Gerald. “An exceedingly good woman, -only her long experience of the sort of girls who used to be sent out to -her at India has made her rather misjudge the race, I think.” - -“She is so good,” said Daireen. “Think of all the trouble she was at -to-day for our sake.” - -“Yes, for our sake,” laughed her father. “My dear Dolly, if you could -only know the traditions our old station retains of Mrs. Crawford, you -would think her doubly good. The trouble she has gone to for the sake of -her friends--her importations by every mail--is simply astonishing. But -what did you think of that charming Miss Van der Veldt you took such -care of, Standish, my boy? Did you make much progress in Cape Dutch?” - -But Standish could not answer in the same strain of pleasantry. He was -thinking too earnestly upon the visions his fancy had been conjuring up -during the entire evening--visions of Mr. Glaston sitting by the side -of Daireen gazing out to that seductive, though by no means uncommon, -phenomenon of sunset. He had often wished, when at the waterfall -gathering Venus-hair for Miss Van der Veldt, that he could come into -possession of the power of Joshua at the valley of Gibeon to arrest -the descent of the orb. The possibly disastrous consequences to -the planetary system seemed to him but trifling weighed against the -advantages that would accrue from the fact of Mr. Glaston's being -deprived of a source of conversation that was both fruitful and -poetical. Standish knew well, without having read Wordsworth, that the -twilight was sovereign of one peaceful hour; he had in his mind quite a -store of unuttered poetical observations upon sunset, and he felt that -Mr. Glaston might possibly be possessed of similar resources which he -could draw upon when occasion demanded such a display. The thought of -Mr. Glaston sitting at the feet of Daireen, and with her drinking in of -the glory of the west, was agonising to Standish, and so he could not -enter into Colonel Gerald's pleasantry regarding the attractive daughter -of the member of the Legislative Council. - -When Daireen had shut the door of her room that night and stood alone in -the darkness, she found the relief that she had been seeking since she -had come down from the slope of that great Peak--relief that could not -be found even in the presence of her father, who had been everything to -her a few days before. She found relief in being alone with her thoughts -in the silence of the night. She drew aside the curtains of her window, -and looked out up to that Peak which was towering amongst the brilliant -stars. She could know exactly the spot upon the edge of the ravine where -she had been sitting--where they had been sitting. What did it all mean? -she asked herself. She could not at first recollect any of the words -she had heard upon that slope, she could not even think what they should -mean, but she had a childlike consciousness of happiness mixed with -fear. What was the mystery that had been unfolded to her up there? What -was the revelation that had been made to her? She could not tell. It -seemed wonderful to her how she could so often have looked up to that -hill without feeling anything of what she now felt gazing up to its -slope. - -It was all too wonderful for her to understand. She had a consciousness -of nothing but that all was wonderful. She could not remember any of his -words except those he had last uttered. The bond between them--was it -of love? How could she tell? What did she know of love? She could not -answer him when he had spoken to her, nor was she able even now, as she -stood looking out to those brilliant stars that crowned the Peak and -studded the dark edges of the slope which had been lately overspread -with the poppy-petals of sunset. It was long before she went into her -bed, but she had arrived at no conclusion to her thoughts--all that -had happened seemed mysterious; and she knew not whether she felt happy -beyond all the happiness she had ever known, or sad beyond the sadness -of any hour of her life. Her sleep swallowed up all her perplexity. - -But the instant she awoke in the bright morning she went softly over to -the window and looked out from a corner of her blind to that slope and -to the place where they had sat. No, it was not a dream. There shone -the silver leaves and there sparkled the waterfall. It was the loveliest -hill in the world, she felt--lovelier even than the purple heather-clad -Slieve Docas. This was a terrible thought to suggest itself to her mind, -she felt all the time she was dressing, but still it remained with her -and refused to be shaken off. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - - - Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice - - ... her election - - Hath sealed thee for herself. - - Adieu, adieu, adieu! Remember me. - - Yea, from the table of my memory - - I'll wipe away all trivial fond records... - - That youth and observation copied there, - - And thy commandment all alone shall live - - Unmixed with baser matter; yes, by heaven!--_Hamlet_. - - -|COLONEL Gerald was well aware of Mrs. Crawford's strategical skill, and -he had watched its development and exercise during the afternoon of that -pleasant little luncheon party on the hill. He remembered what she had -said to him so gravely at the garden-party at Government House regarding -the responsibility inseparable from the guardianship of Daireen at the -Cape, and he knew that Mrs. Crawford had in her mind, when she organised -the party to the hill, such precepts as she had previously enunciated. -He had watched and admired her cleverness in arranging the collecting -expeditions, and he felt that her detaining of Mr. Glaston as she had -under some pretext until all the others but Daireen had gone up -the ravine was a master stroke. But at this point Colonel Gerald's -observation ended. His imagination had been much less vivid than either -Mrs. Crawford's or Standish's. He did not attribute any subtle influence -to the setting sun, nor did he conjure up any vision of Mr. Glaston -sitting at the feet of Daireen and uttering words that the magic of the -sunset glories alone could inspire. - -The fact was that he knew much better than either Mrs. Crawford or -Standish how his daughter felt towards Mr. Glaston, and he was not in -the least concerned in the result of her observation of the glowing west -by the side of the Art prophet. When Mrs. Crawford looked narrowly into -the girl's face on her descent Colonel Gerald had only laughed; he did -not feel any distressing weight of responsibility on the subject of the -guardianship of his daughter, for he had not given a single thought -to the accident of his daughter's straying up the ravine with Algernon -Glaston, nor was he impressed by his daughter's behaviour on the day -following. They had driven out together to pay some visits, and she had -been even more affectionate to him than usual, and he justified -Mrs. Crawford's accusation of his ignorance and the ignorance of men -generally, by feeling, from this fact, more assured that Daireen had -passed unscathed through the ordeal of sunset and the drawing on of -twilight on the mount. - -On the next day to that on which they had paid their visits, however, -Daireen seemed somewhat abstracted in her manner, and when her father -asked her if she would ride with him and Standish to The Flats she, for -the first time, brought forward a plea--the plea of weariness--to be -allowed to remain at home. - -Her father looked at her, not narrowly nor with the least glance of -suspicion, only tenderly, as he said: - -“Certainly, stay at home if you wish, Dolly. You must not overtax -yourself, or we shall have to get a nurse for you.” - -He sat by her side on the chair on the stoep of the Dutch cottage and -put his arm about her. In an instant she had clasped him round the neck -and had hidden her face upon his shoulder in something like hysterical -passion. He laughed and patted her on the back in mock protest at her -treatment. It was some time before she unwound her arms and he got upon -his feet, declaring that he would not submit to such rough handling. -But all the same he saw that her eyes were full of tears; and as he rode -with Standish over the sandy plain made bright with heath, he thought -more than once that there was something strange in her action and still -stranger in her tears. - -Standish, however, felt equal to explaining everything that seemed -unaccountable. He felt there could be no doubt that Daireen was wearying -of these rides with him: he was nothing more than a brother--a dull, -wearisome, commonplace brother to her, while such fellows as Glaston, -who had made fame for themselves, having been granted the opportunity -denied to others, were naturally attractive to her. Feeling this, -Standish once more resolved to enter upon that enterprise of work which -he felt to be ennobling. He would no longer linger here in silken-folded -idleness, he would work--work--work--steadfastly, nobly, to win her who -was worth all the labour of a man's life. Yes, he would no longer -remain inactive as he had been, he would--well, he lit another cigar and -trotted up to the side of Colonel Gerald. - -But Daireen, after the departure of her father and Standish, continued -sitting upon the chair under the lovely creeping plants that twined -themselves around the lattice of the projecting roof. It was very cool -in the gracious shade while all the world outside was red with heat. The -broad leaves of the plants in the garden were hanging languidly, and the -great black bees plunged about the mighty roses that were bursting into -bloom with the first breath of the southern summer. From the brink of -the little river at the bottom of the avenue of Australian oaks the -chatter of the Hottentot washerwomen came, and across the intervening -space of short tawny grass a Malay fruitman passed, carrying his baskets -slung on each end of a bamboo pole across his shoulders. - -She looked out at the scene--so strange to her even after the weeks she -had been at this place; all was strange to her--as the thoughts that -were in her mind. It seemed to her that she had been but one day at this -place, and yet since she had heard the voice of Oswin Markham how great -a space had passed! All the days she had been here were swallowed up in -the interval that had elapsed since she had seen this man--since she had -seen him? Why, there he was before her very eyes, standing by the side -of his horse with the bridle over his arm. There he was watching her -while she had been thinking her thoughts. - -She stood amongst the blossoms of the trellis, white and lovely as a -lily in a land of red sun. He felt her beauty to be unutterably gracious -to look upon. He threw his bridle over a branch and walked up to her. - -“I have come to say good-bye,” he said as he took her hand. - -These were the same words that she had heard from Harwood a few days -before and that had caused her to smile. But now the hand Markham was -not holding was pressed against her heart. Now she knew all. There -was no mystery between them. She knew why her heart became still after -beating tumultuously for a few seconds; and he, though he had not -designed the words with the same object that Harwood had, and though -he spoke them without the same careful observance of their effect, in -another instant had seen what was in the girl's heart. - -“To say good-bye?” she repeated mechanically. - -“For a time, yes; for a long time it will seem to me--for a month.” - -He saw the faint smile that came to her face, and how her lips parted as -a little sigh of relief passed through them. - -“For a month?” she said, and now she was speaking in her own voice, -and sitting down. “A month is not a long time to say good-bye for, Mr. -Markham. But I am so sorry that papa is gone out for his ride on The -Flats.” - -“I am fortunate in finding even you here, then,” he said. - -“Fortunate! Yes,” she said. “But where do you mean to spend this month?” - she continued, feeling that he was now nothing more than a visitor. - -“It is very ridiculous--very foolish,” he replied. “I promised, you -know, to act in some entertainment Miss Vincent has been getting up, and -only yesterday her father received orders to proceed to Natal; but as -all the fellows who had promised her to act are in the company of the -Bayonetteers that has also been ordered off, no difference will be -made in her arrangements, only that the performance will take place at -Pietermaritzburg instead of at Cape Town. But she is so unreasonable -as to refuse to release me from my promise, and I am bound to go with -them.” - -“It is a compliment to value your services so highly, is it not?” - -“I would be glad to sacrifice all the gratification I find from thinking -so for the sake of being released. She is both absurd and unreasonable.” - -“So it would certainly strike any one hearing only of this,” said -Daireen. “But it will only be for a month, and you will see the place.” - -“I would rather remain seeing this place,” he said. “Seeing that hill -above us.” She flushed as though he had told her in those words that he -was aware of how often she had been looking up to that slope since they -had been there together---- - -There was a long pause, through which the voices and laughter of the -women at the river-bank were heard. - -“Daireen,” said the man, who stood up bareheaded before her. “Daireen, -that hour we sat up there upon that slope has changed all my thoughts -of life. I tell you the life which you restored to me a month ago I -had ceased to regard as a gift. I had come to hope that it would end -speedily. You cannot know how wretched I was.” - -“And now?” she said, looking up to him. “And now?” - -“Now,” he answered. “Now--what can I tell you? If I were to be cut off -from life and happiness now, I should stand before God and say that I -have had all the happiness that can be joined to one life on earth. I -have had that one hour with you, and no God or man can take it from me: -I have lived that hour, and none can make me unlive it. I told you I -would say no word of love to you then, but I have come to say the word -now. Child, I dared not love you as I was--I had no thought worthy to -be devoted to loving you. God knows how I struggled with all my soul to -keep myself from doing you the injustice of thinking of you; but that -hour at your feet has given me something of your divine nature, and with -that which I have caught from you, I can love you. Daireen, will you -take the love I offer you? It it yours--all yours.” - -He was not speaking passionately, but when she looked up and saw his -face haggard with earnestness she was almost frightened--she would -have been frightened if she had not loved him as she now knew she did. -“Speak,” he said, “speak to me--one word.” - -“One word?” she repeated. “What one word can I say?” - -“Tell me all that is in your heart, Daireen.” - -She looked up to him again. “All?” she said with a little smile. “All? -No, I could never tell you all. You know a little of it. That is the -bond between us.” - -He turned away and actually took a few steps from her. On his face was -an expression that could not easily have been read. But in an instant he -seemed to recover himself. He took her hand in his. - -“My darling,” he said, “the Past has buried its dead. I shall make -myself worthy to think of you--I swear it to you. You shall have a true -man to love.” He was almost fierce in his earnestness, and her hand that -he held was crushed for an instant. Then he looked into her face with -tenderness. “How have you come to answer my love with yours?” he said -almost wonderingly. “What was there in me to make you think of my -existence for a single instant?” - -She looked at him. “You were--_you_,” she said, offering him the only -explanation in her power. It had seemed to her easy enough to explain as -she looked at him. Who else was worth loving with this love in all the -world, she thought. He alone was worthy of all her heart. - -“My darling, my darling,” he said, “I am unworthy to have a single -thought of you.” - -“You are indeed if you continue talking so,” she said with a laugh, for -she felt unutterably happy. - -“Then I will not talk so. I will make myself worthy to think of you -by--by--thinking of you. For a month, Daireen,--for a month we can only -think of each other. It is better that I should not see you until the -last tatter of my old self is shred away.” - -“It cannot be better that you should go away,” she said. “Why should you -go away just as we are so happy?” - -“I must go, Daireen,” he said. “I must go--and now. I would to God I -could stay! but believe me, I cannot, darling; I feel that I must go.” - -“Because you made that stupid promise?” she said. - -“That promise is nothing. What is such a promise to me now? If I had -never made it I should still go.” - -He was looking down at her as he spoke. “Do not ask me to say anything -more. There is nothing more to be said. Will you forget me in a month, -do you think?” - -Was it possible that there was a touch of anxiety in the tone of his -question? she thought for an instant. Then she looked into his face and -laughed. - -“God bless you, Daireen!” he said tenderly, and there was sadness rather -than passion in his voice. - -“God keep you, Daireen! May nothing but happiness ever come to you!” - -He held out his hand to her, and she laid her own trustfully in his. - -“Do not say good-bye,” she pleaded. “Think that it is only for a -month--less than a month, it must be. You can surely be back in less -than a month.” - -“I can,” he replied; “I can, and I will be back within a month, and -then---- God keep you, Daireen, for ever!” - -He was holding her hand in his own with all gentleness. His face was -bent down close to hers, but he did not kiss her face, only her hand. -He crushed it to his lips, and then dropped it. She was blinded with -her tears, so that she did not see him hasten away through the avenue of -oaks. She did not even hear his horse's tread, nor could she know that -he had not once turned round to give her a farewell look. - -It was some minutes before she seemed to realise that she was alone. She -sprang to her feet and stood looking out over those deathly silent -broad leaves, and those immense aloes, that seemed to be the plants in -a picture of a strange region. She heard the laughter of the Hottentot -women at the river, and the unmusical shriek of a bird in the distance. -She clasped her hands over her head, looking wistfully through the -foliage of the oaks, but she did not utter a word. He was gone, she knew -now, for she felt a loneliness that overwhelmed every other feeling. -She seemed to be in the middle of a bare and joyless land. The splendid -shrubs that branched before her eyes seemed dead, and the silence of the -warm scented air was a terror to her. - -He was gone, she knew, and there was nothing left for her but this -loneliness. She went into her room in the cottage and seated herself -upon her little sofa, hiding her face in her hands, and she felt it good -to pray for him--for this man whom she had come to love, she knew not -how. But she knew she loved him so that he was a part of her own life, -and she felt that it would always be so. She could scarcely think what -her life had been before she had seen him. How could she ever have -fancied that she loved her father before this man had taught her what it -was to love? Now she felt how dear beyond all thought her father was to -her. It was not merely love for himself that she had learnt from Oswin -Markham, it was the power of loving truly and perfectly that he had -taught her. - -Thus she dreamed until she heard the pleasant voice of her friend Mrs. -Crawford in the hall. Then she rose and wondered if every one would not -notice the change that had passed over her. Was it not written upon her -face? Would not every touch of her hand--every word of her voice, betray -it? - -Then she lifted up her head and felt equal to facing even Mrs. Crawford, -and to acknowledging all that she believed the acute observation of that -lady would read from her face as plainly as from the page of a book. - -But it seemed that Mrs. Crawford's eyes were heavy this afternoon, -for though she looked into Daireen's face and kissed her cheek -affectionately, she made no accusation. - -“I am lucky in finding you all alone, my dear,” she said. “It is so -different ashore from aboard ship. I have not really had one good chat -with you since we landed. George is always in the way, or the major, you -know--ah, you think I should rather say the colonel and Jack, but indeed -I think of your father only as Lieutenant George. And you enjoyed our -little lunch on the hill, I hope? I thought you looked pale when you -came down. Was it not a most charming sunset?” - -“It was indeed,” said Daireen, straining her eyes to catch a glimpse -through the window of the slope where the red light had rested. - -“I knew you would enjoy it, my dear. Mr. Glaston is such good -company--ah, that is, of course, to a sympathetic mind. And I don't -think I am going too far, Daireen, when I say that I am sure he was in -company with a sympathetic mind the evening before last.” - -Mrs. Crawford was smiling as one smiles passing a graceful compliment. - -“I think he was,” said Daireen. “Miss Vincent and he always seemed -pleased with each other's society.” - -“Miss Vincent?--Lottie Vincent?” cried the lady in a puzzled but -apprehensive way. “What do you mean, Daireen? Lottie Vincent?” - -“Why, you know Mr. Glaston and Miss Vincent went away from us, among the -silver leaves, and only returned as we were coming down the hill.” - -Mrs. Crawford was speechless for some moments. Then she looked at the -girl, saying, “_We_,--who were _we?_” - -“Mr. Markham and myself,” replied Daireen without faltering. - -“Ah, indeed,” said the other pleasantly. Then there was a pause before -she added, “That ends my association with Lottie Vincent. The artful, -designing little creature! Daireen, you have no idea what good nature it -required on my part to take any notice of that girl, knowing so much as -I do of her; and this is how she treats me! Never mind; I have done with -her.” Seeing the girl's puzzled glance, Mrs. Crawford began to recollect -that it could not be expected that Daireen should understand the nature -of Lottie's offence; so she added, “I mean, you know, dear, that that -girl is full of spiteful, designing tricks upon every occasion. And -yet she had the effrontery to come to me yesterday to beg of me to take -charge of her while her father would be at Natal. But I was not quite so -weak. Never mind; she leaves tomorrow, thank goodness, and that is the -last I mean to see of her. But about Mr. Markham: I hope you do not -think I had anything to say in the matter of letting you be with him, -Daireen. I did not mean it, indeed.” - -“I am sure of it,” said Daireen quietly--so quietly that Mrs. Crawford -began to wonder could it be possible that the girl wished to show that -she had been aware of the plans which had been designed on her behalf. -Before she had made up her mind, however, the horses of Colonel Gerald -and Standish were heard outside, and in a moment afterwards the colonel -entered the room. - -“Papa,” said Daireen almost at once, “Mr. Markham rode out to see you -this afternoon.” - -“Ah, indeed? I am sorry I missed him,” he said quietly. But Mrs. -Crawford stared at the girl, wondering what was coming. - -“He came to say good-bye, papa.” - -Mrs. Crawford's heart began to beat again. - -“What, is he returning to England?” asked the colonel. - -“Oh, no; he is only about to follow Mr. Harwood's example and go up to -Natal.” - -“Then he need not have said good-bye, anymore than Harwood,” remarked -the colonel; and his daughter felt it hard to restrain herself from -throwing her arms about his neck. - -“Ah,” said Mrs. Crawford, “Miss Lottie has triumphed! This Mr. Markham -will go up in the steamer with her, and will probably act with her in -this theatrical nonsense she is always getting up.” - -“He is to act with her certainly,” said Daireen. “Ah! Lottie has made -a success at last,” cried the elder lady. “Mr. Markham will suit her -admirably. They will be engaged before they reach Algoa Bay.” - -“My dear Kate, why will you always jump at conclusions?” said the -colonel. “Markham is a fellow of far too much sense to be in the least -degree led by such a girl as Lottie.” - -Daireen had hold of her father's arm, and when he had spoken she turned -round and kissed him. But it was not at all unusual for her to kiss him -in this fashion on his return from a ride. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - - - Haply the seas and countries different - - With variable objects shall expel - - This something-settled matter in his heart, - - Whereon his brain still beating puts him thus - - From fashion of himself.--_Hamlet_ - - -|HE had got a good deal to think about, this Mr. Oswin Markham, as he -stood on the bridge of the steamer that was taking him round the coast -to Natal, and looked back at that mountain whose strange shape had never -seemed stranger than it did from the distance of the Bay. - -Table Mountain was of a blue dimness, and the white walls of the houses -at its base were quite hidden; Robbin Island lighthouse had almost -dwindled out of sight; and in the water, through the bright red gold -shed from a mist in the west that the falling sun saturated with light, -were seen the black heads of innumerable seals swimming out from the -coastway of rocks. Yes, Mr. Oswin Markham had certainly a good deal -to think about as he looked back to the flat-ridged mountain, and, -mentally, upon all that had taken place since he had first seen its -ridges a few weeks before. - -He had thought it well to talk of love to that girl who had given him -the gift of the life he was at present breathing--to talk to her of love -and to ask her to love him. Well, he had succeeded; she had put her hand -trustfully in his and had trusted him with all her heart, he knew; and -yet the thought of it did not make him happy. His heart was not the -heart of one who has triumphed. It was only full of pity for the girl -who had listened to him and replied to him. - -And for himself he felt what was more akin to shame than any other -feeling--shame, that, knowing all he did of himself, he had still spoken -those words to the girl to whom he owed the life that was now his. - -“God! was it not forced upon me when I struggled against it with all my -soul?” he said, in an endeavour to strangle his bitter feeling. “Did not -I make up my mind to leave the ship when I saw what was coming upon me, -and was I to be blamed if I could not do so? Did not I rush away from -her without a word of farewell? Did not we meet by chance that night in -the moonlight? Were those words that I spoke to her thought over? -Were not they forced from me against my own will, and in spite of my -resolution?” There could be no doubt that if any one acquainted with -all the matters to which he referred had been ready to answer him, -a satisfactory reply would have been received by him to each of his -questions. But though, of course, he was aware of this, yet he seemed to -find it necessary to alter the ground of the argument he was advancing -for his own satisfaction. “I have a right to forget the wretched past,” - he said, standing upright and looking steadfastly across the glowing -waters. “Have not I died for the past? Is not this life a new one? It -is God's justice that I am carrying out by forgetting all. The past is -past, and the future in all truth and devotion is hers.” - -There were, indeed, some moments of his life--and the present was one of -them--when he felt satisfied in his conscience by assuring himself, as -he did now, that as God had taken away all remembrance of the past -from many men who had suffered the agonies of death, he was therefore -entitled to let his past life and its recollections drift away on that -broken mast from which he had been cut in the middle of the ocean; but -the justice of the matter had not occurred to him when he got that bank -order turned into money at the Cape, nor at the time when he had written -to the agents of his father's property in England, informing them of -his escape. He now stood up and spoke those words of his, and felt their -force, until the sun, whose outline had all the afternoon been undefined -in the mist, sank beneath the horizon, and the gorgeous colours drifted -round from his sinking place and dwindled into the dark green of the -waters. He watched the sunset, and though Lottie Vincent came to his -side in her most playful mood, her fresh and artless young nature found -no response to its impulses in him. She turned away chilled, but no more -discouraged than a little child, who, desirous of being instructed -on the secret of the creative art embodied in the transformation of a -handkerchief into a rabbit, finds its mature friend reflecting upon a -perplexing point in the theory of Unconscious Cerebration. Lottie knew -that her friend Mr. Oswin Markham sometimes had to think about matters -of such a nature as caused her little pleasantries to seem incongruous. -She thought that now she had better turn to a certain Lieutenant -Clifford, who, she knew, had no intricate mental problems to work out; -and she did turn to him, with great advantage to herself, and, no doubt, -to the officer as well. However forgetful Oswin Markham may have been -of his past life, he could still recollect a few generalities that had -struck him in former years regarding young persons of a nature similar -to this pretty little Miss Vincent's. She had insisted on his fulfilling -his promise to act with her, and he would fulfil it with a good grace; -but at this point his contract terminated; he would not be tempted into -making another promise to her which he might find much more embarrassing -to carry out with consistency. - -It had been a great grief to Lottie to be compelled, through the -ridiculous treatment of her father by the authorities in ordering him -to Natal, to transfer her dramatic entertainment from Cape Town to -Pietermaritzburg. However, as she had sold a considerable number of -tickets to her friends, she felt that “the most deserving charity,” the -augmentation of whose funds was the avowed object of the entertainment, -would be benefited in no inconsiderable degree by the change of venue. -If the people of Pietermaritzburg would steadfastly decline to supply -her with so good an audience as the Cape Town people, there still would -be a margin of profit, since her friends who had bought tickets on the -understanding that the performance would take place where it was at -first intended, did not receive their money back. How could they expect -such a concession, Lottie asked, with innocent indignation; and begged -to be informed if it was her fault that her father was ordered to Natal. -Besides this one unanswerable query, she reminded those who ventured to -make a timid suggestion regarding the returns, that it was in aid of a -most deserving charity the tickets had been sold, so that it would be an -act of injustice to give back a single shilling that had been paid for -the tickets. Pursuing this very excellent system, Miss Lottie had to the -credit of the coming performance a considerable sum which would provide -against the contingencies of a lack of dramatic enthusiasm amongst the -inhabitants of Pietermaritzburg. - -It was at the garden-party at Government House that Markham had by -accident mentioned to Lottie that he had frequently taken part in -dramatic performances for such-like objects as Lottie's was designed to -succour, and though he at first refused to be a member, of her company, -yet at Mrs. Crawford's advocacy of the claims of the deserving object, -he had agreed to place his services and experience at the disposal of -the originator of the benevolent scheme. - -At Cape Town he had not certainly thrown himself very heartily into the -business of creating a part in the drama which had been selected. He was -well aware that if a good performance of the nature designed by Lottie -is successful, a bad performance is infinitely more so; and that any -attempt on the side of an amateur to strike out a new character from an -old part is looked upon with suspicion, and is generally attended with -disaster; so he had not given himself any trouble in the matter. - -“My dear Miss Vincent,” he had said in reply to a pretty little -remonstrance from the young lady, “the department of study requiring -most attention in a dramatic entertainment of this sort is the -financial. Sell all the tickets you can, and you will be a greater -benefactress to the charity than if you acted like a Kemble.” - -Lottie had taken his advice; but still she made up her mind that Mr. -Markham's name should be closely associated with the entertainment, and -consequently, with her own name. Had she not been at pains to put into -circulation certain stories of the romance surrounding him, and -thus disposed of an unusual number of stalls? For even if one is not -possessed of any dramatic inclinations, one is always ready to pay a -price for looking at a man who has been saved from a shipwreck, or who -has been the co-respondent in some notorious law case. - -When the fellows of the Bayonetteers, who had been indulging in a number -of surmises regarding Lottie's intentions with respect to Markham, -heard that the young lady's father had been ordered to proceed to -Natal without delay, the information seemed to give them a good deal -of merriment. The man who offered four to one that Lottie should not be -able to get any lady friend to take charge of her in Cape Town until her -father's return, could get no one to accept his odds; but his proposal -of three to one that she would get Markham to accompany her to Natal was -eagerly taken up; so that there were several remarks made at the mess -reflecting upon the acuteness of Mr. Markham's perception when it was -learned that he was going with the young lady and her father. - -“You see,” remarked the man who had laid the odds, “I knew something of -Lottie in India, and I knew what she was equal to.” - -“Lottie is a devilish smart child, by Jove,” said one of the losers -meditatively. - -“Yes, she has probably cut her eye-teeth some years ago,” hazarded -another subaltern. - -There was a considerable pause before a third of this full bench -delivered final judgment as the result of the consideration of the case. - -“Poor beggar!” he remarked; “poor beggar! he's a finished coon.” - -And that Mr. Oswin Markham was, indeed, a man whose career had been -defined for him by another in the plainest possible manner, no member of -the mess seemed to doubt. - -During the first couple of days of the voyage round the coast, when Miss -Lottie would go to the side of Mr. Markham for the purpose of consulting -him on some important point of detail in the intended performance, -the shrewd young fellows of the regiment of Bayonetteers pulled their -phantom shreds of moustaches, and brought the muscles of their faces -about the eyes into play to a remarkable extent, with a view of assuring -one another of the possession of an unusual amount of sagacity by -the company to which they belonged. But when, after the third day -of rehearsals. Lottie's manner of gentle persuasiveness towards them -altered to nasty bitter upbraidings of the young man who had committed -the trifling error of overlooking an entire scene here and there in -working out the character he was to bring before the audience, and to a -most hurtful glance of scorn at the other aspirant who had marked off in -the margin of his copy of the play all the dialogue he was to speak, -but who, unfortunately, had picked up a second copy belonging to a young -lady in which another part had been similarly marked, so that he had, -naturally enough, perfected himself in the dialogue of the lady's rôle -without knowing a letter of his own--when, for such trifling slips as -these, Lottie was found to be so harsh, the deep young fellows made -their facial muscles suggest a doubt as to whether it might not be -possible that Markham was of a sterner and less malleable nature then -they had at first believed him. - -The fact was that since Lottie had met with Oswin Markham she had been -in considerable perplexity of mind. She had found out that he was in by -no means indigent circumstances; but even with her guileless, careless -perceptions, she was not long in becoming aware that he was not likely -to be moulded according to her desires; so, while still behaving in a -fascinating manner towards him, she had had many agreeable half-hours -with Mr. Glaston, who was infinitely more plastic, she could see; but -so soon as the order had come for her father to go up to Natal she had -returned in thought to Oswin Markham, and had smiled to see the grins -upon the expressive faces of the officers of the Bayonetteers when -she found herself by the side of Oswin Markham. She rather liked these -grins, for she had an idea--in her own simple way, of course--that there -is a general tendency on the part of young people to associate when -their names have been previously associated. She knew that the fact of -her having persuaded this Mr. Markham to accompany her to Natal would -cause his name to be joined with hers pretty frequently, and in her -innocence she had no objection to make to this. - -As for Markham himself, he knew perfectly well what remarks people would -make on the subject of his departure in the steamer with Lottie Vincent; -he knew before he had been a day on the voyage that the Bayonetteers -regarded him as somewhat deficient in firmness; but he felt that there -was no occasion for him to be utterly broken down in spirit on account -of this opinion being held by the Bayonetteers. He was not so blind but -that he caught a glimpse now and again of a facial distortion on the -part of a member of the company. He felt that it was probable these -far-seeing fellows would be disappointed at the result of their -surmises. - -And indeed the fellows of the regiment were beginning, before the voyage -was quite over, to feel that this Mr. Oswin Markham was not altogether -of the yielding nature which they had ascribed to him on the grounds of -his having promised Lottie Vincent to accompany her and her father -to Natal at this time. About Lottie herself there was but one opinion -expressed, and that was of such a character as any one disposed to -ingratiate himself with the girl by means of flattery would hardly have -hastened to communicate to her; for the poor little thing had been so -much worried of late over the rehearsals which she was daily conducting -aboard the steamer, that, failing to meet with any expression of -sympathy from Oswin Markham, she had spoken very freely to some of the -company in comment upon their dramatic capacity, and not even an amateur -actor likes to receive unreserved comment of an unfavourable character -upon his powers. - -“She is a confounded little humbug,” said one of the subalterns to Oswin -in confidence on the last day of the voyage. “Hang me if I would have -had anything to say to this deuced mummery if I had known what sort of a -girl she was. By George, you should hear the stories Kirkham has on his -fingers' ends about her in India.” - -Oswin laughed quietly. “It would be rash, if not cruel, to believe all -the stories that are told about girls in India,” he said. “As for Miss -Vincent, I believe her to be a charming girl--as an actress.” - -“Yes,” said the lieutenant, who had not left his grinder on English -literature long enough to forget all that he had learned of the -literature of the past century--“yes; she is an actress among girls, and -a girl among actresses.” - -“Good,” said Oswin; “very good. What is it that somebody or other -remarked about Lord Chesterfield as a wit?” - -“Never mind,” said the other, ceasing the laugh he had commenced. “What -I say about Lottie is true.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - - - This world is not for aye, nor'tis not strange - - That even our loves should with our fortunes change; - - For'tis a question left us yet to prove, - - Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love. - - Diseases desperate grown - - By desperate appliance are relieved, - - Or not at all. - - ... so you must take your husbands. - - It is our trick. Nature her custom holds - - Let shame say what it will: when these are gone - - The woman will be out.--_Hamlet._ - - -|OF course,” said Lottie, as she stood by the side of Oswin Markham -when the small steamer which had been specially engaged to take the -field-officers of the Bayonetteers over the dreaded bar of Durban -harbour was approaching the quay--“of course we shall all go together up -to Pietermaritzburg. I have been there before, you know. We shall have a -coach all to ourselves from Durban.” She looked up to his face with only -the least questioning expression upon her own. But Mr. Markham thought -that he had made quite enough promises previously: it would be unwise -to commit himself even in so small a detail as the manner of the journey -from the port of Durban to the garrison town of Pietermaritzburg, which -he knew was at a distance of upwards of fifty miles. - -“I have not the least idea what I shall do when we land,” he said. “It -is probable that I shall remain at the port for some days. I may as well -see all that there is on view in this part of the colony.” - -This was very distressing to the young lady. - -“Do you mean to desert me?” she asked somewhat reproachfully. - -“Desert you?” he said in a puzzled way. “Ah, those are the words in a -scene in your part, are they not?” - -Lottie became irritated almost beyond the endurance of a naturally -patient soul. - -“Do you mean to leave me to stand alone against all my difficulties, Mr. -Markham?” - -“I should be sorry to do that, Miss Vincent. If you have difficulties, -tell me what they are; and if they are of such a nature that they can be -curtailed by me, you may depend upon my exerting myself.” - -“You know very well what idiots these Bayonetteers are,” cried Lottie. - -“I know that most of them have promised to act in your theatricals,” - replied Markham quietly; and Lottie tried to read his soul in another of -her glances to discover the exact shade of the meaning of his words, but -she gave up the quest. - -“Of course you can please yourself, Mr. Markham,” she said, with a -coldness that was meant to appal him. - -“And I trust that I may never be led to do so at the expense of -another,” he remarked. - -“Then you will come in our coach?” she cried, brightening up. - -“Pray do not descend to particulars when we are talking in this vague -way on broad matters of sentiment, Miss Vincent.” - -“But I must know what you intend to do at once.” - -“At once? I intend to go ashore, and try if it is possible to get a -dinner worth eating. After that--well, this is Tuesday, and on Thursday -week your entertainment will take place; before that day you say -you want three rehearsals, then I will agree to be by your side at -Pietermaritzburg on Saturday next.” - -This business-like arrangement was not what Lottie on leaving Cape Town -had meant to be the result of the voyage to Natal. There was a slight -pause before she asked: - -“What do you mean by treating me in this way? I always thought you were -my friend. What will papa say if you leave me to go up there alone?” - -This was a very daring bit of dialogue on the part of Miss Lottie, but -they were nearing the quay where she knew Oswin would be free; aboard -the mail steamer of course he was--well, scarcely free. But Mr. Markham -was one of those men who are least discomfited by a daring stroke. He -looked steadfastly at the girl so soon as she uttered her words. - -“The problem is too interesting to be allowed to pass, Miss Vincent,” he -said. “We shall do our best to have it answered. By Jove, doesn't that -man on the quay look like Harwood? It is Harwood indeed, and I thought -him among the Zulus.” - -The first man caught sight of on the quay was indeed the special -correspondent of the _Dominant Trumpeter_. Lottie's manner changed -instantly on seeing him, and she gave one of her girlish laughs on -noticing the puzzled expression upon his face as he replied to her -salutations while yet afar. She was very careful to keep by the side -of Oswin until the steamer was at the quay; and when at last Harwood -recognised the features of the two persons who had been saluting him, -she saw him look with a little smile first to herself, then to Oswin, -and she thought it prudent to give a small guilty glance downwards and -to repeat her girlish laugh. - -Oswin saw Harwood's glance and heard Lottie's laugh. He also heard the -young lady making an explanation of certain matters, to which Harwood -answered with a second little smile. - -“Kind? Oh, exceedingly kind of him to come so long a distance for the -sake of assisting you. Nothing could be kinder.” - -“I feel it to be so indeed,” said Miss Vincent. “I feel that I can never -repay Mr. Markham.” - -Again that smile came to Mr. Harwood as he said: “Do not take such a -gloomy view of the matter, my dear Miss Vincent; perhaps on reflection -some means may be suggested to you.” - -“What can you mean?” cried the puzzled little thing, tripping away. - -“Well, Harwood, in spite of your advice to me, you see I am here not -more than a week behind yourself.” - -“And you are looking better than I could have believed possible for any -one in the condition you were in when I left,” said Harwood. “Upon my -word, I did not expect much from you as I watched you go up the stairs -at the hotel after that wild ride of yours to and from no place in -particular. But, of course, there are circumstances under which fellows -look knocked up, and there are others that combine to make them seem -quite the contrary; now it seems to me you are subject to the influence -of the latter just at present.” He glanced as if by accident over to -where Lottie was making a pleasant little fuss about some articles of -her luggage. - -“You are right,” said Markham--“quite right. I have reason to be -particularly elated just now, having got free from that steamer and my -fellow-passengers.” - -“Why, the fellows of the Bayonetteers struck me as being particularly -good company,” said Harwood. - -“And so they were. Now I must look after this precious portmanteau of -mine.” - -“And assist that helpless little creature to look after hers,” muttered -Harwood when the other had left him. “Poor little Lottie! is it possible -that you have landed a prize at last? Well, no one will say that you -don't deserve something for your years of angling.” - -Mr. Harwood felt very charitably inclined just at this instant, for his -reflections on the behaviour of Markham during the last few days they -had been at the same hotel at Cape Town had not by any means been -quieted since they had parted. He was sorry to be compelled to leave -Cape Town without making any discovery as to the mental condition of -Markham. Now, however, he knew that Markham had been strong enough to -come on to Natal, so that the searching out of the problem of his former -weakness would be as uninteresting as it would be unprofitable. If -there should chance to be any truth in that vague thought which had been -suggested to him as to the possibility of Markham having become attached -to Daireen Gerald, what did it matter now? Here was Markham, having -overcome his weakness, whatever it may have been, by the side of Lottie -Vincent; not indeed appearing to be in great anxiety regarding the -welfare of the young lady's luggage which was being evil-treated, but -still by her side, and this made any further thought on his behalf -unnecessary. - -Mr. Markham had given his portmanteau into the charge of one of the -Natal Zulus, and then he turned to Harwood. - -“You don't mind my asking you what you are doing at Durban instead of -being at the other side of the Tugela?” he said. - -“The Zulus of this province require to be treated of most carefully -in the first instance, before the great question of Zulus in their own -territory can be fully understood by the British public,” replied the -correspondent. “I am at present making the Zulu of Durban my special -study. I suppose you will be off at once to Pietermaritzburg?” - -“No,” said Markham. “I intend remaining at Durban to study the--the Zulu -characteristics for a few days.” - -“But Lottie--I beg your pardon--Miss Vincent is going on at once.” - -There was a little pause, during which Markham stared blankly at his -friend. - -“What on earth has that got to say to my remaining here?” he said. - -Harwood looked at him and felt that Miss Lottie was right, even on -purely artistic grounds, in choosing Oswin Markham as one of her actors. - -“Nothing--nothing of course,” he replied to Markham's question. - -But Miss Lottie had heard more than a word of this conversation. She -tripped up to Mr. Harwood. - -“Why don't you make some inquiry about your old friends, you most -ungrateful of men?” she cried. “Oh, I have such a lot to tell you. -Dear old Mrs. Crawford was in great grief about your going away, you -know--oh, such great grief that she was forced to give a picnic the -second day after you left, for fear we should all have broken down -utterly.” - -“That was very kind of Mrs. Crawford,” said Harwood; “and it only -remains for me to hope fervently that the required effect was produced.” - -“So far as I was concerned, it was,” said Lottie. “But it would never do -for me to speak for other people.” - -“Other people?” - -“Yes, other people--the charming Miss Gerald, for instance; I cannot -speak for her, but Mr. Markham certainly can, for he lay at her feet -during the entire of the afternoon when every one else had wandered -away up the ravine. Yes, Mr. Markham will tell you to a shade what her -feelings were upon that occasion. Now, bye-bye. You will come to our -little entertainment next week, will you not? And you will turn up on -Saturday for rehearsal?” she added, smiling at Oswin, who was looking -more stern than amused. “Don't forget--Saturday. You should be very -grateful for my giving you liberty for so long.” - -Both men went ashore together without a word; nor did they fall at once -into a fluent chat when they set out for the town, which was more than -two miles distant; for Mr. Harwood was thinking out another of the -problems which seemed to suggest themselves to him daily from the fact -of his having an acute ear for discerning the shades of tone in which -his friends uttered certain phrases. He was just now engaged linking -fancy unto fancy, thinking if it was a little impulse of girlish -jealousy, meant only to give a mosquito-sting to Oswin Markham, that had -caused Miss Lottie Vincent to make that reference to Miss Gerald, or if -it was a piece of real bitterness designed to wound deeply. It was -an interesting problem, and Mr. Harwood worked at its solution very -patiently, weighing all his recollections of past words and phrases that -might tend to a satisfactory result. - -But the greatest amount of satisfaction was not afforded to Mr. Harwood -by the pursuit of the intricacies of the question he had set himself -to work out, but by the reflection that at any rate Markham's being at -Natal and not within easy riding distance of a picturesque Dutch cottage -at Mowbray, was a certain good. What did it signify now if Markham had -previously been too irresolute to tear himself away from the association -of that cottage? Had he not afterwards proved himself sufficiently -strong? And if this strength had come to him through any conversation -he might have had with Miss Gerald on the hillside to which Lottie -had alluded, or elsewhere, what business was it to anybody? Here was -Markham--there was Durban, and this was satisfactory. Only--what did -Lottie mean exactly by that little bit of spitefulness or bitterness? - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - - - _Polonius_. The actors are come hither, my lord. - - _Hamlet_. Buz, buz. - - _Polonius_. Upon my honour. - - _Hamlet. Then came each actor on his ass._ - - _Polonious_. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, -history, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, scene individable or -poem unlimited... these are the only men. - - Being thus benetted round with villanies,-- - - Or I could make a prologue to my brains, - - They had begun the play,--I sat me down. - - ... Wilt thou know - - The effect...?--_Hamlet_. - - -|UPON the evening of the Thursday week after the arrival of that -steamer with two companies of the Bayonetteers at Durban, the town of -Pietermaritzburg was convulsed with the prospect of the entertainment -that was to take place in its midst, for Miss Lottie Vincent had not -passed the preceding week in a condition of dramatic abstraction. -She was by no means so wrapped up in the part she had undertaken -to represent as to be unable to give the necessary attention to the -securing of an audience. - -It would seem to a casual _entrepreneur_ visiting Pietermaritzburg that -a large audience might be assured for an entertainment possessing even -the minimum of attractiveness, for the town appears to be of an immense -size--that is, for a South African town. The colonial Romulus and -Remus have shown at all times very lordly notions on the subject of -boundaries, and, being subject to none of those restrictions as to -the cost of every square foot of territory which have such a cramping -influence upon the founders of municipalities at home, they exercise -their grand ideas in the most extensive way. The streets of an early -colonial town are broad roads, and the spaces between the houses are so -great as almost to justify the criticism of those narrow-minded visitors -who call the town straggling. At one time Pietermaritzburg may have been -straggling, but it certainly did not strike Oswin Markham as being so -when he saw it now for the first time on his arrival. He felt that it -had got less of a Dutch look about it than Cape Town, and though that -towering and overshadowing impression which Table Mountain gives to Cape -Town was absent, yet the circle of hills about Pietermaritzburg seemed -to him--and his fancy was not particularly original--to give the town -almost that nestling appearance which by tradition is the natural -characteristic of an English village. - -But if an _entrepreneur_ should calculate the probable numerical value -of an audience in Pietermaritzburg from a casual walk through the -streets, he would find that his assumption had been founded upon -an erroneous basis. The streets are long and in fact noble, but the -inhabitants available for fulfilling the duties of an audience at a -dramatic entertainment are out of all proportion few. Two difficulties -are to be contended with in making up audiences in South Africa: the -first is getting the people in, and the second is keeping people out. As -a rule the races of different colour do not amalgamate with sufficient -ease to allow of a mixed audience being pervaded with a common sympathy. -A white man seated between a Hottentot and a Kafir will scarcely be -brought to admit that he has had a pleasant evening, even though the -performance on the stage is of a choice character. A single Zulu will -make his presence easily perceptible in a room full of white people, -even though he should remain silent and in a secluded corner; while a -Hottentot, a Kafir, and a Zulu constitute a _bouquet d'Afrique_, the -savour of which is apt to divert the attention of any one in their -neighbourhood from the realistic effect of a garden scene upon the -stage. - -Miss Lottie, being well aware that the audience-forming material in the -town was small in proportion to the extent of the streets, set herself -with her usual animation about the task of disposing of the remaining -tickets. She fancied that she understood something of the system to be -pursued with success amongst the burghers. She felt it to be her duty to -pay a round of visits to the houses where she had been intimate in the -days of her previous residence at the garrison; and she contrived to -impress upon her friends that the ties of old acquaintance should be -consolidated by the purchase of a number of her tickets. She visited -several families who, she knew, had been endeavouring for a long time -to work themselves into the military section of the town's society, and -after hinting to them that the officers of the Bayonetteers would -remain in the lowest spirits until they had made the acquaintance of the -individual members of each of those families, she invariably disposed of -a ticket to the individual member whose friendship was so longed for at -the garrison. As for the tradesmen of the town, she managed without any -difficulty, or even without forgetting her own standing, to make them -aware of the possible benefits that would accrue to the business of the -town under the patronage of the officers of the Bayonetteers; and so, -instead of having to beg of the tradesmen to support the deserving -charity on account of which she was taking such a large amount of -trouble, she found herself thanked for the permission she generously -accorded to these worthy men to purchase places for the evening. - -She certainly deserved well of the deserving charity, and the old -field-officers, who rolled their eyes and pulled their moustaches, -recollecting the former labours of Miss Lottie, had got as imperfect -a knowledge of the proportions of her toil and reward as the less -good-natured of their wives who alluded to the trouble she was taking as -if it was not wholly disinterested. Lottie certainly took a vast amount -of trouble, and if Oswin Markham only appeared at the beginning of each -rehearsal and left at the conclusion, the success of the performance was -not at all jeopardised by his action. - -For the entire week preceding the evening of the performance little -else was talked about in all sections of Maritzburgian society but the -prospects of its success. The ladies in the garrison were beginning -to be wearied of the topic of theatricals, and the colonel of the -Bayonetteers was heard to declare that he would not submit any longer to -have the regimental parades only half-officered day by day, and that -the plea of dramatic study would be insufficient in future to excuse -an absentee. But this vigorous action was probably accelerated by the -report that reached him of a certain lieutenant, who had only four lines -to speak in the play, having escaped duty for the entire week on the -grounds of the necessity for dramatic study. - -At last the final nail was put in the fastenings of the scenery on the -stage, which a number of the Royal Engineers, under the guidance of -two officers and a clerk of the works, had erected; the footlights were -after considerable difficulty coaxed into flame. The officers of the -garrison and their wives made an exceedingly good front row in the -stalls, and a number of the sergeants and privates filled up the back -seats, ready to applaud, without reference to their merits at the -performance, their favourite officers when they should appear on the -stage; the intervening seats were supposed to be booked by the general -audience, and their punctuality of attendance proved that Lottie's -labours had not been in vain. - -Mr. Harwood having tired of Durban, had been some days in the town, and -he walked from the hotel with Markham; for Mr. Markham, though the part -he was to play was one of most importance in the drama, did not think -it necessary to hang about the stage for the three hours preceding the -lifting of the curtain, as most of the Bayonetteers who were to act -believed to be prudent. Harwood took a seat in the second row of stalls, -for he had promised Lottie and one of the other young ladies who was -in the cast, to give each of them a candid opinion upon their -representations. For his own part he would have preferred giving his -opinion before seeing the representations, for he knew what a strain -would be put upon his candour after they were over. - -When the orchestra--which was a great feature of the performance--struck -up an overture, the stage behind the curtain was crowded with figures -in top-boots and with noble hats encircled with ostrich feathers--the -element of brigandage entering largely into the construction of the -drama of the evening. Each of the figures carried a small pamphlet which -he studied every now and again, for in spite of the many missed parades, -a good deal of uncertainty as to the text of their parts pervaded the -minds of the histrionic Bayonetteers. Before the last notes of the -overture had crashed, Lottie Vincent, radiant in pearl powder and -pencilled eyebrows, wearing a plain muslin dress and white satin shoes, -her fair hair with a lovely white rose shining amongst its folds, -tripped out. Her character in the first act being that of a simple -village maiden, she was dressed with becoming consistency, every detail -down to those white satin shoes being, of course, in keeping with the -ordinary attire of simple village maidens wherever civilisation has -spread. - -“For goodness' sake leave aside your books,” she said to the young men -as she came forward. “Do you mean to bring them out with you and read -from them? Surely after ten rehearsals you might be perfect.” - -“Hang me, if I haven't a great mind not to appear at all in this rot,” - said one of the gentlemen in the top-boots to his companions. He had -caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror a minute previously and he did -not like the picture. “If it was not for the sake of the people who have -come I'd cut the whole affair.” - -“She has done nothing but bully,” remarked a second of these desperadoes -in top-boots. - -“All because that fellow Markham has shown himself to be no idiot,” said -a third. - -“Count Rodolph loves her, but I'll spare him not: he dies to-night,” - remarked another, but he was only refreshing his memory on the dialogue -he was to speak. - -When the gentleman who was acting as prompter saw that the stage was -cleared, he gave the signal for the orchestra to play the curtain up. At -the correct moment, and with a perfection of stage management that would -have been creditable to any dramatic establishment in the world, as -one of the Natal newspapers a few days afterwards remarked with great -justice, the curtain was raised, and an excellent village scene was -disclosed to the enthusiastic audience. Two of the personages came on -at once, and so soon as their identity was clearly established, the -soldiers began to applaud, which was doubtless very gratifying to -the two officers, from a regimental standpoint, though it somewhat -interfered with the progress of the scene. The prompter, however, -hastened to the aid of the young men who had lost themselves in that -whirlwind of applause, and the dialogue began to run easily. - -Lottie had made for herself a little loophole in the back drop-scene -through which she observed the audience. She saw that the place was -crowded to the doors--English-speaking and Dutch-speaking burghers -were in the central seats; she smiled as she noticed the aspirants to -garrison intimacies crowding up as close as possible to the officers' -wives in the front row, and she wondered if it would be necessary to -acknowledge any of them for longer than a week. Then she saw Harwood -with the faintest smile imaginable upon his face, as the young men on -the stage repeated the words of their parts without being guilty either -of the smallest mistake or the least dramatic spirit; and this time she -wondered if, when she would be going through her part and she would look -towards Harwood, she should find the same sort of smile upon his face. -She rather thought not. Then, as the time for her call approached, she -hastened round to her entrance, waiting until the poor stuff the two -young men were speaking came to an end; then, not a second past her -time, she entered, demure and ingenuous as all village maidens in satin -slippers must surely be. - -She was not disappointed in her reception by the audience. The ladies -in the front stalls who had spoken, it might be, unkindly of her in -private, now showed their good nature in public, and the field officers -forgot all the irregularities she had caused in the regiment and -welcomed her heartily; while the tradesmen in the middle rows made their -applause a matter of business. The village maiden with the satin shoes -smiled in the timid, fluttered, dovelike way that is common amongst the -class, and then went on with her dialogue. She felt altogether happy, -for she knew that the young lady who was to appear in the second scene -could not possibly meet with such an expression of good feeling as she -had obtained from the audience. - -And now the play might be said to have commenced in earnest. It was by -no means a piece of French frivolity, this drama, but a genuine work of -English art as it existed thirty years ago, and it was thus certain to -commend itself to the Pietermaritzburghers who liked solidity even when -it verged upon stolidity. - -_Throne or Spouse_ was the title of the play, and if its incidents were -somewhat improbable and its details utterly impossible, it was not the -less agreeable to the audience. The two young men who had appeared in -top-boots on the village green had informed each other, the audience -happily overhearing, that they had been out hunting with a certain -Prince, and that they had got separated from their companions. - -They embraced the moment as opportune for the discussion of a few court -affairs, such as the illness ot the monarch, and the Prince's prospects -of becoming his successor, and then they thought it would be as well to -try and find their way back to the court; so off they went. Then Miss -Vincent came on the village green and reminded herself that her name was -Marie and that she was a simple village maiden; she also recalled the -fact that she lived alone with her mother in Yonder Cottage. It seemed -to give her considerable satisfaction to reflect that, though poor, she -was, and she took it upon her to say that her mother was also, strictly -virtuous, and she wished to state in the most emphatic terms that though -she was wooed by a certain Count Rodolph, yet, as she did not love him, -she would never be his. Lottie was indeed very emphatic at this part, -and her audience applauded her determination as Marie. Curiously enough, -she had no sooner expressed herself in this fashion than one of the -Bayonetteers entered, and at the sight of him Lottie called out, “Ah, -he is here! Count Rodolph!” This the audience felt was a piece of subtle -constructive art on the part of the author. Then the new actor replied, -“Yes, Count Rodolph is here, sweet Marie, where he would ever be, by the -side of the fairest village maiden,” etc. - -The new actor was attired in one of the broad hats of the -period--whatever it may have been--with a long ostrich feather. He had -an immense black moustache, and his eyebrows were exceedingly heavy. He -also wore top-boots, a long sword, and a black cloak, one fold of which -he now and again threw over his left shoulder when it worked its way -down his arm. It was not surprising that further on in the drama -the Count was found to be a dissembler; his costume fostered any -proclivities in this way that might otherwise have remained dormant. - -The village maiden begged to know why the Count persecuted her with his -attentions, and he replied that he did so on account of his love for -her. She then assured him that she could never bring herself to look -on him with favour; and this naturally drew from him the energetic -declaration of his own passion for her. He concluded by asking her to be -his: she cried with emphasis, “Never!” He repeated his application, and -again she cried “Never!” and told him to begone. “You shall be mine,” he -cried, catching her by the arm. “Wretch, leave me,” she said, in all her -village-maiden dignity; he repeated his assertion, and clasped her round -the waist with ardour. Then she shrieked for help, and a few simple -villagers rushed hurriedly on the stage, but the Count drew his sword -and threatened with destruction any one who might advance. The simple -villagers thought it prudent to retire. “Ha! now, proud Marie, you are -in my power,” said the Count. “Is there no one to save me?” shrieked -Marie. “Yes, here is some one who will save you or perish in the -attempt,” came a voice from the wings, and with an agitation pervading -the sympathetic orchestra, a respectable young man in a green -hunting-suit with a horn by his side and a drawn sword in his hand, -rushed on, and was received with an outburst of applause from the -audience who, in Pietermaritzburg, as in every place else, are ever on -the side of virtue. This new actor was Oswin Markham, and it seemed that -Lottie's stories regarding the romance associated with his appearance -were successful, for not only was there much applause, but a quiet hum -of remark was heard amongst the front stalls, and it was some moments -before the business of the stage could be proceeded with. - -So soon as he was able to speak, the Count wished to know who was the -intruder that dared to face one of the nobles of the land, and the -intruder replied in general terms, dwelling particularly upon the -fact that only those were noble who behaved nobly. He expressed an -inclination to fight with the Count, but the latter declined to -gratify him on account of the difference there was between their social -standing, and he left the stage saying, “Farewell, proud beauty, we -shall meet again.” Then he turned to the stranger, and, laying his hand -on his sword-hilt after he had thrown his cloak over his shoulder, he -cried, “We too shall meet again.” - -The stranger then made some remarks to himself regarding the manner in -which he was stirred by Marie's beauty. He asked her who she was, and -she replied, truthfully enough, that she was a simple village maiden, -and that she lived in Yonder Cottage. He then told her that he was a -member of the Prince's retinue, and that he had lost his way at the -hunt; and he begged the girl to conduct him to Yonder Cottage. The girl -expressed her pleasure at being able to show him some little attention, -but she remarked that the stranger would find Yonder Cottage very -humble. She assured him, however, of the virtue of herself, and again -went so far as to speak for her mother. The stranger then made a nice -little speech about the constituents of true nobility, and went out with -Marie as the curtain fell. - -The next scene was laid in Yonder Cottage; the virtuous mother being -discovered knitting, and whiling away the time by talking to herself -of the days when she was nurse to the late Queen. Then Marie and the -stranger entered, and there was a pleasant family party in Yonder -Cottage. The stranger was evidently struck with Marie, and the scene -ended by his swearing to make her his wife. The next act showed the -stranger in his true character as the Prince; his royal father has heard -of his attachment to Marie, and not being an enthusiast on the subject -of simple village maidens becoming allied to the royal house, he -threatens to cut off the entail of the kingdom--which it appeared he -had power to do--if the Prince does not relinquish Marie, and he dies -leaving a clause in his will to this effect. - -The Prince rushes to Yonder Cottage--hears that Marie is carried off -by the Count--rescues her--marries her--and then the virtuous mother -confesses that the Prince is her own child, and Marie is the heiress to -the throne. No one appeared to dispute the story--Marie is consequently -Queen and her husband King, having through his proper treatment of the -girl gained the kingdom; and the curtain falls on general happiness, -Count Rodolph having committed suicide. - -“Nothing could have been more successful,” said Lottie, all tremulous -with excitement, to Oswin, as they went off together amid a tumult of -applause, which was very sweet to her ears. - -“I think it went off very well indeed,” said Oswin. “Your acting was -perfection, Miss Vincent.” - -“Call me Marie,” she said playfully. “But we must really go before the -curtain; hear how they are applauding.” - -“I think we have had enough of it,” said Oswin. - -“Come along,” she cried; “I dislike it above all things, but there is -nothing for it.” - -The call for Lottie and Oswin was determined, so after the soldiers had -called out their favourite officers, Oswin brought the girl forward, and -the enthusiasm was very great. Lottie then went off, and for a few -moments Markham remained alone upon the stage. He was most heartily -applauded, and, after acknowledging the compliment, he was just stepping -back, when from the centre of the seats a man's voice came, loud and -clear: - -“Bravo, old boy! you're a trump wherever you turn up.” - -There was a general moving of heads, and some laughter in the front -rows. - -But Oswin Markham looked from where he was standing on the stage down -to the place whence that voice seemed to come. He neither laughed nor -smiled, only stepped back behind the curtain. - -The stage was now crowded with the actors and their friends; everybody -was congratulating everybody else. Lottie was in the highest spirits. - -“Could anything have been more successful?” she cried again to Oswin -Markham. He looked at her without answering for some moments. “I don't -know,” he said at last. “Successful? perhaps so.” - -“What on earth do you mean?” she asked; “are you afraid of the Natal -critics?” - -“No, I can't say I am.” - -“Of what then?” - -“There is a person at the door who wishes to speak to you, Mr. Markham,” - said one of the servants coming up to Oswin. “He says he doesn't carry -cards, but you will see his name here,” and he handed Oswin an envelope. - -Oswin Markham read the name on the envelope and crushed it into his -pocket, saying to the servant: - -“Show the--gentleman up to the room where I dressed.” - -So Miss Lottie did not become aware of the origin of Mr. Markham's doubt -as to the success of the great drama _Throne or Spouse_. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - - - Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do surely bar the -door upon your own liberty if you deny your griefs to your friend. - - ... tempt him with speed aboard; - - Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night. - - Indeed this counsellor - - Is now most still, most secret, and most grave, - - Who was in life a foolish prating knave. - - This sudden sending him away must seem - - Deliberate.--_Hamlet._ - - -|IN the room where he had assumed the dress of the part he had just -played, Oswin Markham was now standing idle, and without making any -attempt to remove the colour from his face or the streaks from his -eyebrows. He was still in the dress of the Prince when the door was -opened and a man entered the room eagerly. - -“By Jingo! yes, I thought you'd see me,” he cried before he had closed -the door. All the people outside--and there were a good many--who -chanced to hear the tone of the voice knew that the speaker was the man -who had shouted those friendly words when Oswin was leaving the stage. -“Yes, old fellow,” he continued, slapping Markham on the back and -grasping him by the hand, “I thought I might venture to intrude upon -you. Right glad I was to see you, though, by heavens! I thought I should -have shouted out when I saw you--you, of all people, here. Tell us how -it comes, Oswin. How the deuce do you appear at this place? Why, what's -the matter with you? Have you talked so much in that tall way on the -boards that you haven't a word left to say here? You weren't used to be -dumb in the good old days---good old nights, my boy.” - -“You won't give me a chance,” said Oswin; and he did not even smile in -response to the other's laughter. - -“There then, I've dried up,” said the stranger. “But, by my soul, I tell -you I'm glad to see you. It seems to me, do you know, that I'm drunk -now, and that when I sleep off the fit you'll be gone. I've fancied -queer things when I've been drunk, as you well know. But it's you -yourself, isn't it?” - -“One need have no doubt about your identity,” said Oswin. “You talk in -the same infernally muddled way that ever Harry Despard used to talk.” - -“That's like yourself, my boy,” cried the man, with a loud laugh. “I'm -beginning to feel that it's you indeed, though you are dressed up like -a Prince--by heavens! you played the part well. I couldn't help shouting -out what I did for a lark. I wondered what you'd think when you heard -my voice. But how did you manage to turn up at Natal? tell me that. You -left us to go up country, didn't you?” - -“It's a long story,” replied Oswin. “Very long, and I am bound to change -this dress. I can't go about in this fashion for ever.” - -“No more you can,” said the other. “And the sooner you get rid of those -togs the better, for by God, it strikes me that they give you a wrong -impression about yourself. You're not so hearty by a long way as you -used to be. I'll tell you what I'll do; I'll go on to the hotel and -wait there until you are in decent rig. I'll only be in this town until -to-morrow evening, and we must have a night together.” - -For the first time since the man had entered the room Oswin brightened -up. - -“Only till to-morrow night, Hal?” he cried. “Then we must have a few -jolly hours together before we part. I won't let you even go to the -hotel now. Stay here while I change, like a decent fellow.” - -“Now that sounds like your old form, my boy; hang me if I don't stay -with you. Is that a flask in the portmanteau? It is, by Jingo, and -if it's not old Irish may I be--and cigars too. Yes, I will stay, old -fellow, for auld langsyne. This is like auld langsyne, isn't it? Why, -where are you off to?” - -“I have to give a message to some one in another room,” said Oswin, -leaving the man alone. He was a tall man, apparently about the same age -as Markham. So much of his face as remained unconcealed by a shaggy, -tawny beard and whiskers was bronzed to a copper colour. His hair -was short and tawny, and his mouth was very coarse. His dress was not -shabby, but the largeness of the check on the pattern scarcely argued -the possession of a subdued taste on the part of the wearer. - -He had seated himself upon a table in the room though there were plenty -of chairs, and when Oswin went out he filled the flask cup and emptied -it with a single jerk of his head; then he snatched up the hat which had -been worn by Oswin on the stage; he threw it into the air and caught it -on one of his feet, then with a laugh he kicked it across the floor. - -But Oswin had gone to the room where Captain Howard, who had acted as -stage manager, was smoking after the labours of the evening. “Howard,” - Said Markham, “I must be excused from your supper to-night.” - -“Nonsense,” said Howard. “It would be too ridiculous for us to have -a supper if you who have done the most work to-night should be away. -What's the matter? Have you a doctor's certificate?” - -“The fact is a--a--sort of friend of mine--a man I knew pretty -intimately some time ago, has turned up here most unexpectedly.” - -“Then bring your sort of friend with you.” - -“Quite impossible,” said Markham quickly. “He is not the kind of man who -would make the supper agreeable either to himself or to any one else. -You will explain to the other fellows how I am compelled to be away.” - -“But you'll turn up some time in the course of the night, won't you?” - -“I am afraid to say I shall. The fact is, my friend requires a good deal -of attention to be given to him in the course of a friendly night. If I -can manage to clear myself of him in decent time I'll be with you.” - -“You must manage it,” said Howard as Oswin went back to the room, where -he found his friend struggling to pull on the green doublet in which the -Prince had appeared in the opening scene of the play. - -“Hang me if I couldn't do the part like one o'clock,” he cried; “the -half of it is in the togs. You weren't loud enough, Oswin, when you came -on; you wouldn't have brought down the gods even at Ballarat. This is -how you should have done it: 'I'll save you or----'” - -“For Heaven's sake don't make a fool of yourself, Hal.” - -“I was only going to show you how it should be done to rouse the people; -and as for making a fool of myself----” - -“You have done that so often you think it not worth the caution. Come -now, stuff those things into the portmanteau, and I'll have on my mufti -in five minutes.” - -“And then off to the hotel, and you bet your pile, as we used to say at -Chokeneck Gulch, we'll have more than a pint bottle of Bass. By the way, -how about your bronze; does the good old governor still stump up?” - -“My allowance goes regularly to Australia,” said Os win, with a stern -look coming to his face. - -“And where else should it go, my boy? By the way, that's a tidy female -that showed what neat ankles she had as Marie. By my soul, I envied you -squeezing her. 'What right has he to squeeze her?' I said to myself, and -then I thought if----” - -“But you haven't told me how you came here,” said Oswin, interrupting -him. - -“No more I did. It's easily told, my lad. It was getting too warm for me -in Melbourne, and as I had still got some cash I thought I'd take a run -to New York city--at least that's what I made up my mind to do when I -awoke one fine morning in the cabin of the _Virginia_ brig a couple -of hundred miles from Cape Howe. I remembered going into a saloon one -evening and finding a lot of men giving general shouts, but beyond that -I had no idea of anything.” - -“That's your usual form,” said Oswin. “So you are bound for New York?” - -“Yes, the skipper of the _Virginia_ had made Natal one of his ports, -and there we put in yesterday, so I ran up to this town, under what you -would call an inspiration, or I wouldn't be here now ready to slip the -tinsel from as many bottles of genuine Moët as you choose to order. But -you--what about yourself?” - -“I am here, my Hal, to order as many bottles as you can slip the tinsel -off,” cried Oswin, his face flushed more deeply than when it had been -rouged before the footlights. - -“Spoken in your old form, by heavens!” cried the other, leaping from the -table. “You always were a gentleman amongst us, and you never failed -us in the matter of drink. Hang me if I don't let the _Virginia_ -brig--go--to--to New York without me; I'll stay here in company of my -best friend.” - -“Come along,” said Oswin, leaving the room. “Whether you go or stay -we'll have a night of it at the hotel.” - -They passed out together and walked up to the hotel, hearing all the -white population discussing the dramatic performance of the evening, for -it had created a considerable stir in the town. There was no moon, but -the stars were sparkling over the dark blue of the hills that almost -encircle the town. Tall Zulus stood, as they usually do after dark, -talking at the corners in their emphatic language, while here and there -smaller white men speaking Cape Dutch passed through the streets smoking -their native cigars. - -“Just what you would find in Melbourne or in the direction of Geelong, -isn't it, Oswin?” said the stranger, who had his arm inside Markham's. - -“Yes, with a few modifications,” said Oswin. - -“Why, hang it all, man,” cried the other. “You aren't getting -sentimental, are you? A fellow would think from the way you've been -talking in that low, hollow, parson's tone that you weren't glad I -turned up. If you're not, just say so. You won't need to give Harry -Despard a nod after you've given him a wink.” - -“What an infernal fool you do make of yourself,” said Oswin. “You know -that I'm glad to have you beside me again, old fellow,--yes, devilish -glad. Confound it, man, do you fancy I've no feeling--no recollection? -Haven't we stood by each other in the past, and won't we do it in the -future?” - -“We will, by heavens, my lad! and hang me if I don't smash anything -that comes on the table tonight except the sparkling. And look here, the -_Virginia_ brig may slip her cable and be off to New York. I'll stand by -you while you stay here, my boy. Yes, say no more, my mind is made up.” - -“Spoken like a man!” cried Oswin, with a sudden start. “Spoken like a -man! and here we are at the hotel. We'll have one of our old suppers -together, Hal----” - -“Or perish in the attempt,” shouted the other. - -The stranger went upstairs, while Oswin remained below to talk to the -landlord about some matters that occupied a little time. - -Markham and Harwood had a sitting-room for their exclusive use in the -hotel, but it was not into this room that Oswin brought his guest, it -was into another apartment at a different quarter of the house. The -stranger threw his hat into a corner and himself down upon a sofa with -his legs upon a chair that he had tilted back. - -“Now we'll have a general shout,” he said. “Ask all the people in the -house what they'll drink. If you acted the Prince on the stage to-night, -I'll act the part here now. I've got the change of a hundred samples of -the Sydney mint, and I want to ease myself of them. Yes, we'll have a -general shout.” - -“A general shout in a Dutchman's house? My boy, this isn't a Ballarat -saloon,” said Oswin. “If we hinted such a thing we'd be turned into -the street. Here is a bottle of the sparkling by way of opening the -campaign.” - -“I'll open the champagne and you open the campaign, good! The sight of -you, Oswin, old fellow--well, it makes me feel that life is a joke. -Fill up your glass and we'll drink to the old times. And now tell me all -about yourself. How did you light here, and what do you mean to do? Have -you had another row in the old quarter?” - -Oswin had drained his glass of champagne and had stretched himself upon -the second sofa. His face seemed pale almost to ghastliness, as persons' -faces do after the use of rouge. He gave a short laugh when the other -had spoken. - -“Wait till after supper,” he cried. “I haven't a word to throw to a dog -until after supper.” - -“Curse that Prince and his bluster on the stage; you're as hoarse as a -rook now, Oswin,” remarked the stranger. - -In a brief space the curried crayfish and penguins' eggs, which form -the opening dishes of a Cape supper, appeared; and though Oswin's friend -seemed to have an excellent appetite, Markham himself scarcely ate -anything. It did not, however, appear that the stranger's comfort was -wholly dependent upon companionship. He ate and drank and talked loudly -whether Oswin fasted or remained mute; but when the supper was removed -and he lighted a cigar, he poured out half a bottle of champagne into a -tumbler, and cried: - -“Now, my gallant Prince, give us all your eventful history since you -left Melbourne five months ago, saying you were going up country. Tell -us how you came to this place, whatever its infernal Dutch name is.” - -And Oswin Markham, sitting at the table, told him. - -But while this _tète-à-tète_ supper was taking place at the hotel, the -messroom of the Bayonetteers was alight, and the regimental cook had -excelled himself in providing dishes that were wholly English, without -the least colonial flavour, for the officers and their guests, among -whom was Harwood. - -Captain Howard's apology for Markham was not freely accepted, more -especially as Markham did not put in an appearance during the entire of -the supper. Harwood was greatly surprised at his absence, and the story -of a friend having suddenly turned up he rejected as a thing devised as -an excuse. He did not return to the hotel until late--more than an -hour past midnight. He paused outside the hotel door for some moments, -hearing the sound of loud laughter and a hoarse voice singing snatches -of different songs. - -“What is the noisy party upstairs?” he asked of the man who opened the -door. - -“That is Mr. Markham and his friend, sir. They have taken supper -together,” said the servant. - -Harwood did not express the surprise he felt. He took his candle, and -went to his own room, and, as he smoked a cigar before going to bed, he -heard the intermittent sounds of the laughter and the singing. - -“I shall have a talk with this old friend of Mr. Markham's in the -morning,” he said, after he had stated another of his problems to sleep -over. - -Markham and he had been accustomed to breakfast together in their -sitting-room since they had come up from Durban; but when Harwood awoke -the next morning, and came in to breakfast, he found only one cup upon -the table. - -“Why is there not a cup for Mr. Markham?” he asked of the servant. - -“Mr. Markham, sir, left with his friend for Durban at four o'clock this -morning,” said the man. - -“What, for Durban?” - -“Yes, sir. Mr. Markham had ordered a Cape cart and team to be here at -that time. I thought you might have awakened as they were leaving.” - -“No, I did not,” said Mr. Harwood quietly; and the servant left the -room. - -Here was something additional for the special correspondent of the -_Dominant Trumpeter_ to ponder over and reduce to the terms of a -problem. He reflected upon his early suspicions of Oswin Markham. Had -he not even suggested that Markham's name was probably something very -different from what he had called himself? Mr. Harwood knew well that -men have a curious tendency to call themselves by the names of the -persons to whom bank orders are made payable, and he believed that such -a subtle sympathy might exist between the man who had been picked up at -sea and the document that was found in his possession. Yes, Mr. Harwood -felt that his instincts were not perhaps wholly in error regarding Mr. -Oswin Markham, cleverly though he had acted the part of the Prince in -that stirring drama on the previous evening. - -On the afternoon of the following day, however, Oswin Markham entered -the hotel at Pietermaritzburg and walked into the room where Harwood -was working up a letter for his newspaper, descriptive of life among the -Zulus. - -“Good heavens!” cried the “special,” starting up; “I did not expect you -back so soon. Why, you could only have stayed a few hours at the port.” - -“It was enough for me,” said Oswin, a smile lighting up his pale face; -“quite enough for me. I only waited to see the vessel with my friend -aboard safely over the bar. Then I returned.” - -“You went away from here in something of a hurry, did you not, Markham?” - -Oswin laughed as he threw himself into a chair. - -“Yes, something of a hurry. My friend is--let us say, eccentric. We left -without going to bed the night before last. Never mind, Harwood, -old fellow; he is gone, and here I am now, ready for anything -you propose--an excursion across the Tugela or up to the -Transvaal--anywhere--anywhere--I'm free now and myself again.” - -“Free?” said Harwood curiously. “What do you mean by free?” - -Oswin looked at him mutely for a moment, then he laughed, saying: - -“Free--yes, free from that wretched dramatic affair. Thank Heaven, it's -off my mind!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. - - - _Horatio_. My lord, the King your father. - - _Hamlet_. The King--my father? - - _Horatio_. Season your admiration for a while. - - In what particular thought to work I know not; - - But in the gross and scope of mine opinion - - This bodes some strange eruption to our state. - - Our last King, - - Whose image even but now appear'd to us, - - ... by a sealed compact - - Did forfeit... all those his lands - - Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror. - - _Hamlet._ - - -|MY son,” said The Macnamara, “you ought to be ashamed of your -threatment of your father. The like of your threatment was never known -in the family of the Macnamaras, or, for that matter, of the O'Dermots. -A stain has been thrown upon the family that centuries can't wash out.” - -“It is no stain either upon myself or our family for me to have set -out to do some work in the world,” said Standish proudly, for he felt -capable of maintaining the dignity of labour. “I told you that I would -not pass my life in the idleness of Innishdermot. I-----------” - -“It's too much for me, Standish O'Dermot Macnamara--to hear you talk -lightly of Innishdermot is too much for the blood of the representative -of the ancient race. Don't, my boy, don't.” - -“I don't talk lightly of it; when you told me it was gone from us I felt -it as deeply as any one could feel it.” - -“It's one more wrong added to the grievances of our thrampled counthry,” - cried the hereditary monarch of the islands with fervour. “And yet you -have never sworn an oath to be revenged. You even tell me that you -mean to be in the pay of the nation that has done your family this -wrong--that has thrampled The Macnamara into the dust. This is the -bitterest stroke of all.” - -“I have told you all,” said Standish. “Colonel Gerald was kinder to me -than words could express. He is going to England in two months, but only -to remain a week, and then he will leave for the Castaway Islands. -He has already written to have my appointment as private secretary -confirmed, and I shall go at once to have everything ready for his -arrival. It's not much I can do, God knows, but what I can do I will for -him. I'll work my best.” - -“Oh, this is bitter--bitter--to hear a Macnamara talk of work; and just -now, too, when the money has come to us.” - -“I don't want the money,” said Standish indignantly. - -“Ye're right, my son, so far. What signifies fifteen thousand pounds -when the feelings of an ancient family are outraged?” - -“But I can't understand how those men had power to take the land, if you -did not wish to give it to them, for their railway and their hotel.” - -“It's more of the oppression, my son--more of the thrampling of our -counthry into the dust. I rejected their offers with scorn at first; -but I found out that they could get power from the oppressors of our -counthry to buy every foot of the ground at the price put on it by a man -they call an arbithrator--so between thraitors and arbithrators I knew -I couldn't hold out. With tears in my eyes I signed the papers, and now -all the land from the mouth of Suangorm to Innishdermot is in the hands -of the English company--all but the castle--thank God they couldn't -wrest that from me. If you'd only been by me, Standish, I would -have held out against them all; but think of the desolate old man -sitting amongst the ruins of his home and the tyrants with the gold--I -could do nothing.” - -“And then you came out here. Well, father, I'm glad to see you, and -Colonel Gerald will be so too, and--Daireen.” - -“Aye,” said The Macnamara. “Daireen is here too. And have you been -talking to the lovely daughter of the Geralds, my boy? Have you been -confessing all you confessed to me, on that bright day at Innishdermot? -Have you----” - -“Look here, father,” said Standish sternly; “you must never allude to -anything that you forced me to say then. It was a dream of mine, and now -it is past.” - -“You can hold your head higher than that now, my boy,” said The -Macnamara proudly. “You're not a beggar now, Standish; money's in the -family.” - -“As if money could make any difference,” said Standish. - -“It makes all the difference in the world, my boy,” said The Macnamara; -but suddenly recollecting his principles, he added, “That is, to some -people; but a Macnamara without a penny might aspire to the hand of -the noblest in the land. Oh, here she comes--the bright snowdhrop of -Glenmara--the arbutus-berry of Craig-Innish; and her father too--oh, why -did he turn to the Saxons?” - -The Macnamara, Prince of Innishdermot, Chief of the Islands and Lakes, -and King of all Munster, was standing with his son in the coffee-room of -the hotel, having just come ashore from the steamer that had brought him -out to the Cape. The patriot had actually left his land for the first -time in his life, and had proceeded to the colony in search of his son, -and he found his son waiting for him at the dock gates. - -That first letter which Standish received from his father had indeed -been very piteous, and if the young man had not been so resolute in his -determination to work, he would have returned to Innishdermot once more, -to comfort his father in his trials. But the next mail brought a second -communication from The Macnamara to say that he could endure no longer -the desolation of the lonely hearth of his ancestral castle, but would -set out in search of his lost offspring through all the secret places -of the earth. Considering that he had posted this letter to the definite -address of his offspring, the effect of the vagueness of his expressed -resolution was somewhat lessened. - -Standish received the letter with dismay, and Colonel Gerald himself -felt a little uneasiness at the prospect of having The Macnamara -quartered upon him for an uncertain period. He was well aware of the -largeness of the ideas of The Macnamara on many matters, and in regard -to the question of colonial hospitality he felt that the views of the -hereditary prince would be liberal to an inconvenient degree. It was -thus with something akin to consternation that he listened to the -eloquent letter which Standish read with flushed face and trembling -hands. - -“We shall be very pleased to see The Macnamara here,” said Colonel -Gerald; and Daireen laughed, saying she could not believe that -Standish's father would ever bring himself to depart from his kingdom. -It was on the next day that Colonel Gerald had an interview of -considerable duration with Standish on a matter of business, he said; -and when it was over and the young man's qualifications had been judged -of, Standish found himself in a position either to accept or decline the -office of private secretary to the new governor of the lovely Castaway -group. With tears he left the presence of the governor, and went to -his room to weep the fulness from his mind and to make a number of firm -resolutions as to his future of hard work; and that very evening Colonel -Gerald had written to the Colonial Office nominating Standish to the -appointment; so that the matter was considered settled, and Standish -felt that he did not fear to face his father. - -But when Standish had met The Macnamara on the arrival of the mail -steamer a week after he had received that letter stating his intentions, -the young man learned, what apparently could not be included in a letter -without proving harassing to its eloquence, that the extensive lands -along the coastway of the lough had been sold to an English company of -speculators who had come to the conclusion that a railway made through -the picturesque district would bring a fortune to every one who might be -so fortunate as to have money invested in the undertaking. So a railway -was to be made, and a gigantic hotel built to overlook the lough. The -shooting and fishing rights--in fact every right and every foot of -ground, had been sold for a large sum to the company by The Macnamara. -And though Standish had at first felt the news as a great blow to him, -he subsequently became reconciled to it, for his father's appearance at -the Cape with several thousand pounds was infinitely more pleasing to -him than if the representative of The Macnamaras had come in his former -condition, which was simply one of borrowing powers. - -“It's the snowdhrop of Glenmara,” said The Macnamara, kissing the hand -of Daireen as he met her at the door of the room. “And you, George, my -boy,” he continued, turning to her father; “I may shake hands with you -as a friend, without the action being turned to mean that I forgive the -threatment my counthry has received from the nation whose pay you are -still in. Yes, only as a friend I shake hands with you, George.” - -“That is a sufficient ground for me, Macnamara,” said the colonel. “We -won't go into the other matters just now.” - -“I cannot believe that this is Cape Town,” said Daireen. “Just think of -our meeting here to-day. Oh, if we could only have a glimpse of the dear -old Slieve Docas!” - -“Why shouldn't you see it, white dove?” said The Macnamara in Irish to -the girl, whose face brightened at the sound of the tongue that brought -back so many pleasant recollections to her. “Why shouldn't you?” he -continued, taking from one of the boxes of his luggage an immense bunch -of purple heather in gorgeous bloom. “I gathered it for you from the -slope of the mountain. It brings you the scent of the finest hill in the -world.” - -The girl caught the magnificent bloom in both her hands and put her face -down to it. As the first breath of the hill she loved came to her in -this strange land they saw her face lighten. Then she turned away and -buried her head in the scents of the hills--in the memories of the -mountains and the lakes, while The Macnamara spoke on in the musical -tongue that lived in her mind associated with all the things of the land -she loved. - -“And Innishdermot,” said Colonel Gerald at length, “how is the seat of -our kings?” - -“Alas, my counthry! thrampled on--bethrayed--crushed to the ground!” - said The Macnamara. “You won't believe it, George--no, you won't. They -have spoiled me of all I possessed--they have driven me out of the -counthry that my sires ruled when the oppressors were walking about in -the skins of wild beasts. Yes, George, Innishdermot is taken from me and -I've no place to shelter me.” - -Colonel Gerald began to look grave and to feel much graver even than he -looked. The Macnamara shelterless was certainly a subject for serious -consideration. - -“Yes,” said Standish, observing the expression on his face, “you would -wonder how any company could find it profitable to pay fifteen thousand -pounds for the piece of land. That is what the new railway people paid -my father.” - -Once more the colonel's face brightened, but The Macnamara stood up -proudly, saying: - -“Pounds! What are pounds to the feelings of a true patriot? What can -money do to heal the wrongs of a race?” - -“Nothing,” said the colonel; “nothing whatever. But we must hasten out -to our cottage. I'll get a coolie to take your luggage to the railway -station. We shall drive out. My dear Dolly, come down from yonder -mountain height where you have gone on wings of heather. I'll take out -the bouquet for you.” - -“No,” said Daireen. “I'll not let any one carry it for me.” - -And they all went out of the hotel to the carriage. - -The _maître d'hôtel_, who had been listening to the speech of The -Macnamara in wonder, and had been finally mystified by the Celtic -language, hastened to the visitors' book in which The Macnamara had -written his name; but this last step certainly did not tend to make -everything clear, for in the book was written: - -“Macnamara, Prince of the Isles, Chief of Innish-dermot and the Lakes, -and King of Munster.” - -“And with such a nose!” said the _maître d'hôtel_. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. - - - Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, - - To give these... duties to your father. - - In that and all things we show our duty. - - _King_. What wouldst thou beg, Laertes? - - What wouldst thou have? - - _Laertes_. Your leave and favour to ret urn--_Hamlet_. - - -|TO these four exiles from Erin sitting out on the stoep of the Dutch -cottage after dinner very sweet it was to dream of fatherland. The soft -light through which the broad-leaved, motionless plants glimmered was, -of course, not to be compared with the long dwindling twilights that -were wont to overhang the slopes of Lough Suangorm; and that mighty peak -which towered above them, flanked by the long ridge of Table Mountain, -was a poor thing in the eyes of those who had witnessed the glories of -the heather-swathed Slieve Docas. - -The cries ot the bullock wagoners, which were faintly heard from the -road, did not interfere with the musings of any of the party, nor with -the harangue of The Macnamara. - -Very pleasant it was to hear The Macnamara talk about his homeless -condition as attributable to the long course of oppression persisted -in by the Saxon Monarchy--at least so Colonel Gerald thought, for in a -distant colony a harangue on the subject of British tyranny in Ireland -does not sound very vigorous, any more than does a burning revolutionary -ode when read a century or so after the revolution has taken place. - -But poor Standish, who had spent a good many years of his life breathing -in of the atmosphere of harangue, began to feel impatient at his sire's -eloquence. Standish knew very well that his father had made a hard -bargain with the railway and hotel company that had bought the land; -nay, he even went so far as to conjecture that the affectionate yearning -which had caused The Macnamara to come out to the colony in search -of his son might be more plainly defined as an impulse of prudence -to escape from certain of his creditors before they could hear of his -having received a large sum of money. Standish wondered how Colonel -Gerald could listen to all that his father was saying when he could not -help being conscious of the nonsense of it all, for the young man was -not aware of the pleasant memories of his youth that were coming back to -the colonel under the influence of The Macnamara's speech. - -The next day, however, Standish had a conversation of considerable -length with his father, and The Macnamara found that he had made rapid -progress in his knowledge of the world since he had left his secluded -home. In the face of his father he insisted on his father's promising to -remove from the Dutch cottage at the end of a few days. The Macnamara's -notions of hospitality were very large, and he could not see why Colonel -Gerald should have the least feeling except of happiness in entertaining -a shelterless monarch; but Standish was firm, and Colonel Gerald did not -resist so stoutly as The Macnamara felt he should have done; so that at -the end of the week Daireen and her father were left alone for the first -time since they had come together at the Cape. - -They found it very agreeable to be able to sit together and ride -together and talk without reserve. Standish Macnamara was, beyond doubt, -very good company, and his father was even more inclined to be sociable, -but no one disputed the wisdom of the young man's conduct in curtailing -his visit and his father's to the Dutch cottage. The Macnamara had his -pockets filled with money, and as Standish knew that this was a strange -experience for him, he resolved that the weight of responsibility -which the preservation of so large a sum was bound to entail, should be -reduced; so he took a cottage at Rondebosch for his father and himself, -and even went the length of buying a horse. The lordliness of the ideas -of the young man who had only had a few months' experience of the world -greatly impressed his father, and he paid for everything without a -murmur. - -Standish had, at the intervals of his father's impassioned discourses, -many a long and solitary ride and many a lengthened reverie amongst the -pines that grow beside The Flats. The resolutions he made as to his life -at the Castaway group were very numerous, and the visions that floated -before his eyes were altogether very agreeable. He was beginning to feel -that he had accomplished a good deal of that ennobling hard work in -the world which he had resolved to set about fulfilling. His previous -resolutions had not been made carelessly: he had grappled with adverse -Fate, he felt, and was he not getting the better of this contrary power? - -But not many days after the arrival of The Macnamara another personage -of importance made his appearance in Cape Town. The Bishop of the -Calapash Islands and Metropolitan of the Salamander Archipelago had at -last found a vessel to convey him to where his dutiful son was waiting -for him. - -The prelate felt that he had every reason to congratulate himself upon -the opportuneness of his arrival, for Mr. Glaston assured his father, -after the exuberance of their meeting had passed away, that if the -vessel had not appeared within the course of another week, he would -have been compelled to defer the gratification of his filial desires for -another year. - -“A colony is endurable for a week,” said Mr. Glaston; “it is wearisome -at the end of a fortnight; but a month spent with colonists has got a -demoralising effect that years perhaps may fail to obliterate.” - -The bishop felt that indeed he had every reason to be thankful that -unfavourable winds had not prolonged the voyage of his vessel. - -Mrs. Crawford was, naturally enough, one of the first persons at the -Cape to visit the bishop, for she had known him years before--she had -indeed known most Colonial celebrities in her time--and she took the -opportunity to explain to him that Colonel Gerald had been counting the -moments until the arrival of the vessel from the Salamanders, so great -was his anxiety to meet with the Metropolitan of that interesting -archipelago, with whom he had been acquainted a good many years before. -This was very gratifying to the bishop, who liked to be remembered by -his friends; he had an idea that even the bishop of a distant colony -runs a chance of being forgotten in the world unless he has written an -heretical book, so he was glad when, a few days after his arrival at -Cape Town, he received a visit from Colonel Gerald and an invitation to -dinner. - -This was very pleasing to Mrs. Crawford, for, of course, Algernon -Glaston was included in the invitation, and she contrived without any -difficulty that he should be seated by the side of Miss Gerald. Her -skill was amply rewarded, she felt, when she observed Mr. Glaston -and Daireen engaged in what sounded like a discussion on the musical -landscapes of Liszt; to be engaged--even on a discussion of so subtle a -nature--was something, Mrs. Crawford thought. - -In the course of this evening, she herself, while the bishop was smiling -upon Daireen in a way that had gained the hearts, if not the souls, -of the Salamanderians, got by the side of Mr. Glaston, intent upon -following up the advantage the occasion offered. - -“I am so glad that the bishop has taken a fancy to Daireen,” she said. -“Daireen is a dear good girl--is she not?” - -Mr. Glaston raised his eyebrows and touched the extreme point of -his moustache before he answered a question so pronounced. “Ah, she -is--improving,” he said slowly. “If she leaves this place at once she -may improve still.” - -“She wants some one to be near her capable of moulding her tastes--don't -you think?” - -“She _needs_ such a one. I should not like to say _wants,_” remarked Mr. -Glaston. - -“I am sure Daireen would be very willing to learn, Mr. Glaston; she -believes in you, I know,” said Mrs. Crawford, who was proceeding on -an assumption of the broad principles she had laid down to Daireen -regarding the effect of flattery upon the race. But her words did not -touch Mr. Glaston deeply: he was accustomed to be believed in by girls. - -“She has taste--some taste,” he replied, though the concession was not -forced from him by Mrs. Crawford's revelation to him. “Yes; but of what -value is taste unless it is educated upon the true principles of Art?” - -“Ah, what indeed?” - -“Miss Gerald's taste is as yet only approaching the right tracks of -culture. One shudders, anticipating the effect another month of life -in such a place as this may have upon her. For my own part, I do not -suppose that I shall be myself again for at least a year after I return. -I feel my taste utterly demoralised through the two months of my stay -here; and I explained to my father that it will be necessary for him -to resign his see if he wishes to have me near him at all. It is quite -impossible for me to come out here again. The three months' absence from -England that my visit entails is ruinous to me.” - -“I have always thought of your self-sacrifice as an example of true -filial duty, Mr. Glaston. I know that Daireen thinks so as well.” - -But Mr. Glaston did not seem particularly anxious to talk of Daireen. - -“Yes; my father must resign his see,” he continued. - -“The month I have just passed has left too terrible recollections behind -it to allow of my running a chance of its being repeated. The only -person I met in the colony who was not hopelessly astray was that Miss -Vincent.” - -“Oh!” cried Mrs. Crawford, almost shocked. “Oh, Mr. Glaston! you surely -do not mean that! Good gracious!--Lottie Vincent!” - -“Miss Vincent was the only one who, I found, had any correct idea of -Art; and yet, you see, how she turned out.” - -“Turned out? I should think so indeed. Lottie Vincent was always turning -out since the first time I met her.” - -“Yes; the idea of her acting in company of such a man as this Markham--a -man who had no hesitation in going to view a picture by candlelight--it -is too distressing.” - -“My dear Mr. Glaston, I think they will get on very well together. You -do not know Lottie Vincent as I know her. She has behaved with the most -shocking ingratitude towards me. But we are parted now, and I shall take -good care she does not impose upon me again.” - -“It scarcely matters how one's social life is conducted if one's -artistic life is correct,” said Mr. Glaston. - -At this assertion, which she should have known to be one of the articles -of Mr. Glaston's creed, Mrs. Crawford gave a little start. She thought -it better, however, not to question its soundness. As a matter of fact, -the bishop himself, if he had heard his son enunciate such a precept, -would not have questioned its soundness; for Mr. Glaston spake as one -having authority, and most people whose robustness was not altogether -mental, believed his Gospel of Art. - -“No doubt what you say is--ah--very true,” said Mrs. Crawford. “But I -do wish, Mr. Glaston, that you could find time to talk frequently to -Daireen on these subjects. I should be so sorry if the dear child's -ideas were allowed to run wild. Your influence might work wonders with -her. There is no one here now who can interfere with you.” - -“Interfere with me, Mrs. Crawford?” - -“I mean, you know, that Mr. Harwood, with his meretricious cleverness, -might possibly--ah--well, you know how easily girls are led.” - -“If there would be a possibility of Miss Gerald's being influenced in a -single point by such a man as that Mr. Harwood, I fear not much can be -hoped for her,” said Mr. Glaston. - -“We should never be without hope,” said Mrs. Crawford. “For my own -part, I hope a great deal--a very great deal--from your influence over -Daireen; and I am exceedingly happy that the bishop seems so pleased -with her.” - -The good bishop was indeed distributing his benedictory smiles freely, -and Daireen came in for a share of his favours. Her father wondered at -the prodigality of the churchman's smiles; for as a chaplain he was not -wont to be anything but grave. The colonel did not reflect that while -smiling may be a grievous fault in a chaplain, it can never be anything -but ornamental to a bishop. - -A few days afterwards Mrs. Crawford called upon the bishop, and had an -interesting conversation with him on the subject of his son's future--a -question to which of late the bishop himself had given a good deal -of thought; for in the course of his official investigations on the -question of human existence he had been led to believe that the -duration of life has at all times been uncertain; he had more than -once communicated this fact to dusky congregations, and by reducing the -application of the painful truth, he had come to feel that the life of -even a throned bishop is not exempt from the fatalities of mankind. - -As the bishop's son was accustomed to spend half of the revenues of -his father's see, his father was beginning to have an anxiety about the -future of the young man; for he did not think that his successor to -the prelacy of the Calapash Islands would allow Mr. Glaston to draw, -as usual, upon the income accruing to the office. The bishop was not -so utterly unworldly in his notions but that he knew there exist other -means of amassing wealth than by writing verses in a pamphlet-magazine, -or even composing delicate impromptus in minor keys for one's own -hearing, His son had not felt it necessary to occupy his mind with any -profession, so that his future was somewhat difficult to foresee with -any degree of clearness. - -Mrs. Crawford, however, spoke many comforting words to the bishop -regarding a provision for his son's future. Daireen Gerald, she assured -him, besides being one of the most charming girls in the world, was -the only child of her father, and her father's estates in the South of -Ireland were extensive and profitable. - -When Mrs. Crawford left him, the bishop felt glad that he had smiled -so frequently upon Miss Gerald. He had heard that no kindly smile was -bestowed in vain, but the truth of the sentiment had never before so -forced itself upon his mind. He smiled again in recollection of his -previous smiles. He felt that indeed Miss Gerald was a charming girl, -and Mrs. Crawford was most certainly a wonderful woman; and it can -scarcely be doubted that the result of the bishop's reflections proved -the possession on his part of powerful mental resources, enabling him to -arrive at subtle conclusions on questions of perplexity. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. - - - Too much of water had'st thou, poor Ophelia. - - How can that be unless she drowned herself? - - If the man go to this water... it is, will he, nill he, he goes; mark -you that.--_Hamlet_. - - -|STANDISH Macnamara had ridden to the Dutch cottage, but he found it -deserted. Colonel Gerald, one of the servants informed him, had early in -the day driven to Simon's Town, and had taken Miss Gerald with him, but -they would both return in the evening. Sadly the young man turned away, -and it is to be feared that his horse had a hard time of it upon The -Flats. The waste of sand was congenial with his mood, and so was the -rapid motion. - -But while he was riding about in an aimless way, Daireen and her father -were driving along the lovely road that runs at the base of the low -hills which form a mighty causeway across the isthmus between Table -Bay and Simon's Bay. Colonel Gerald had received a message that the -man-of-war which had been stationed at the chief of the Castaway group -had called at Simon's Bay; he was anxious to know how the provisional -government was progressing under the commodore of those waters whose -green monotony is broken by the gentle cliff's of the Castaways, and -Daireen had been allowed to accompany her father to the naval station. - -The summer had not yet advanced sufficiently far to make tawny the dark -green coarse herbage of the hillside, and the mass of rich colouring -lent by the heaths and the prickly-pear hedges made Daireen almost -jealous for the glories of the slopes of Glenmara. For some distance -over the road the boughs of Australian oaks in heavy foilage were -leaning; but when Constantia and its evenly set vineyards were passed -some distance, Daireen heard the sound of breaking waves, and in an -instant afterwards the road bore them down to the water's edge at Kalk -Bay, a little rocky crescent enclosing green sparkling waves. Upon a -pebbly beach a few fishing-boats were drawn up, and the outlying spaces -were covered with drying nets, the flavour of which was much preferable -to that of the drying fish that were near. - -On still the road went until it lost itself upon the mighty beaches of -False Bay. Down to the very brink of the great green waves that burst -in white foam and clouds of mist upon the sand the team of the wagonette -was driven, and on along the snowy curve for miles until Simon's Bay -with its cliffs were reached, and the horses were pulled up at the hotel -in the single street of Simon's Town at the base of the low ridge of the -purple hill. - -“You will not be lonely, Dolly,” said Colonel Gerald as he left the -hotel after lunch to meet the commander of the man-of-war of which the -yellow-painted hull and long streaming pennon could be seen from the -window, opposite the fort at the farthest arm of the bay. - -“Lonely?” said the girl. “I hope I may, for I feel I would like a little -loneliness for a change. I have not been lonely since I was at Glenmara -listening to Murrough O'Brian playing a dirge. Run away now, papa, and -you can tell me when we are driving home what the Castaways are really -like.” - -“I'll make particular inquiries as to the possibilities of lawn-tennis,” - said her father, as he went down the steps to the red street. - -Daireen saw a sergeant's party of soldiers carry arms to the colonel, -though he wore no uniform and had not been at this place for years; but -even less accustomed observers than the men would have known that he was -a soldier. Tall, straight, and with bright gray eyes somewhat hollower -than they had been twenty years before, he looked a soldier in every -point--one who had served well and who had yet many years of service -before him. - -How noble he looked, Daireen thought, as he kissed his hand up to her. -And then she thought how truly great his life had been. Instead of -coming home after his time of service had expired, he had continued at -his post in India, unflinching beneath the glare of the sun overhead -or from the scorching of the plain underfoot; and here he was now, not -going home to rest for the remainder of his life, but ready to face -an arduous duty on behalf of his country. She knew that he had -been striving through all these years to forget in the work he was -accomplishing the one grief of his life. She had often seen him gazing -at her face, and she knew why he had sighed as he turned away. - -She had not meant to feel lonely in her father's absence, but her -thoughts somehow were not of that companionable kind which, coming to -one when alone, prevent one's feeling lonely. - -She picked up the visitors' book and read all the remarks that had been -written in English for the past years; but even the literature of an -hotel visitor's book fails at some moments to relieve a reader's mind. -She turned over the other volumes, one of which was the Commercial -Code of Signals, and the other a Dutch dictionary. She read one of Mr. -Harwood's letters in a back number of the _Dominant Trumpeter_, and she -found that she could easily recall the circumstances under which, in -various conversations, he had spoken to her every word of that column -and a quarter. She wondered if special correspondents write out every -night all the remarks that they have heard during the day. But even the -attempt to solve this problem did not make her feel brisk. - -What was the thought which was hovering about her, and which she was -trying to avoid by all the means in her power? She could not have -defined it. The boundaries of that thought were too vague to be outlined -by words. - -She glanced out of the window for a while, and then walked to the door -and looked over the iron balcony at the head of the steps. Only a few -people were about the street. Gazing out seawards, she saw a signal -flying from the peak of the man-of-war, and in a few minutes she saw a -boat put off and row steadily for the shore near the far-off fort at the -headland. She knew the boat was to convey her father aboard the vessel. -She stood there watching it until it had landed and was on its way back -with her father in the stern. - -Then she went along the road until she had left the limits of the town, -and was standing between the hill and the sea. Very lovely the sea -looked from where it was breaking about the rocks beneath her, out to -the horizon which was undefined in the delicate mist that rose from the -waters. - -She stood for a long time tasting of the freshness of the breeze. She -could see the man-of-war's boat making its way through the waves until -it at last reached the ship, and then she seemed to have lost the object -of her thoughts. She turned off the road and got upon the sloping beach -along which she walked some distance. - -She had met no one since she had left the hotel, and the coast of the -Bay round to the farthest headland seemed deserted; but somehow her -mood of loneliness had gone from her as she stood at the brink of those -waters whose music was as the sound of a song of home heard in a strange -land. What was there to hinder her from thinking that she was standing -at the uttermost headland of Lough Suangorm, looking out once more upon -the Atlantic? - -She crossed a sandy hollow and got upon a ledge of rocks, up to which -the sea was beating. Here she seated herself, and sent her eyes out -seawards to where the war-ship was lying, and then that thought which -had been near her all the day came upon her. It was not of the Irish -shore that the glad waters were laving. It was only of some words that -had been spoken to her. “For a month we will think of each other,” were -the words, and she reflected that now this month had passed. The month -that she had promised to think of him had gone, but it had not taken -with it her thoughts of the man who had uttered those words. - -She looked out dreamily across the green waves, wondering if he had -returned. Surely he would not let a day pass without coming to her side -to ask her if she had thought of him during the month. And what answer -would she give him? She smiled. - -“Love, my love,” she said, “when have I ceased to think of you? When -shall I cease to think of you?” - -The tears forced themselves into her eyes with the pure intensity of -her passion. She sat there dreaming her dreams and thinking her thoughts -until she seemed only to hear the sound of the waters of the distance; -the sound of the breaking waves seemed to have passed away. It was this -sudden consciousness that caused her to awake from her reverie. She -turned and saw that the waves were breaking on the beach _behind -her_--the rock where she was sitting was surrounded with water, and -every plunge of the advancing tide sent a swirl of water through the -gulf that separated the rocks from the beach. - -In an instant she had started to her feet. She saw the death that was -about her. She looked to the rock where she was standing. The highest, -ledge contained a barnacle. She knew it was below the line of high -water, and now not more than a couple of feet of the ledge were -uncovered. A little cry of horror burst from her, and at the same -instant the boom of a gun came across the water from the man-of-war; -she looked and saw that the boat was on its way to the shore again. In -another half-minute a second report sounded, and she knew that they were -firing a salute to her father. They were doing this while his daughter -was gazing at death in the face. - -Could they see her from the boat? It seemed miles away, but she took off -her white jacket and standing up waved it. Not the least sign was made -from the boat. The report of the guns echoed along the shore mingling -with her cries. But a sign was given from the water: a wave flung its -spray clear over the rock. She knew what it meant. - -She saw in a moment what chance she had of escape. The water between the -rock and the shore was not yet very deep. If she could bear the brunt of -the wild rush of the waves that swept into the hollow she could make her -way ashore. - -In an instant she had stepped down to the water, still holding on by the -rocks. A moment of stillness came and she rushed through the waves, but -that sand--it sank beneath her first step, and she fell backwards, then -came another swirl of eddying waves that plunged through the gulf and -swept her away with their force, out past the rock she had been on. One -cry she gave as she felt herself lost. - -The boom of the saluting gun doing honour to her father was the sound -she heard as the cruel foam flashed into her face. - -But at her cry there started up from behind a rock far ashore the figure -of a man. He looked about him in a bewildered way. Then he made a rush -for the beach, seeing the toy the waves were heaving about. He plunged -in up to his waist. - -“Damn the sand!” he cried, as he felt it yield. He bent himself against -the current and took advantage of every relapse of the tide to rush -a few steps onward. He caught the rock and swung himself round to the -seaward side. Then he waited until the next wave brought that helpless -form near him. He did not leave his hold of the rock, but before the -backward sweep came he clutched the girl's dress. Then came a struggle -between man and wave. The man conquered. He had the girl on one of his -arms, and had placed her upon the rock for an instant. Then he swung -himself to the shoreward side, caught her up again, and stumbling, -and sinking, and battling with the current, he at last gained a sound -footing. - -Daireen was exhausted but not insensible. She sat upon the dry sand -where the man had placed her, and she drew back the wet hair from her -face. Then she saw the man stand by the edge of the water and shake his -fist at it. - -“It's not the first time I've licked you singlehanded,” he said, “and -it'll not be the last. Your bullying roar won't wash here.” Then he -seemed to catch sight of something on the top of a wave. “Hang me if -you'll get even her hat,” he said, and once more he plunged in. The -hat was farther out than the girl had been, and he had more trouble in -securing it. Daireen saw that his head was covered more than once, and -she was in great distress. At last, however, he struggled to the beach -with the hat in his hand. It was very terrible to the girl to see him -turn, squeezing the water from his hair, and curse the sea and all that -pertained to it. - -Suddenly, however, he looked round and walked up to where she was now -standing. He handed her the hat as though he had just picked it up from -the sand. Then he looked at her. - -“Miss,” he said, “I believe I'm the politest man in this infernal -colony; if I was rude to you just now I ask your pardon. I'm afraid I -pulled you about.” - -“You saved me from drowning,” said Daireen. “If you had not come to me I -should be dead now.” - -“I didn't do it for your sake,” said the man. “I did it because that's -my enemy”--he pointed to the sea--“and I wouldn't lose a chance of -having a shy at him. It's my impression he's only second best this time -again. Never mind. How do you feel, miss?” - -“Only a little tired,” said Daireen. “I don't think I could walk back to -the hotel.” - -“You won't need,” said the man. “Here comes a Cape cart and two ancient -swells in it. If they don't give you a seat, I'll smash the whole -contrivance.” - -“Oh!” cried Daireen joyfully; “it is papa--papa himself.” - -“Not the party with the brass buttons?” said the man. “All right, I'll -hail them.” - -Colonel Gerald sprang from the Cape cart in which he was driving with -the commodore of the naval station. - -“Good God, Daireen, what does this mean?” he cried, looking from the -girl to the man beside her. - -But Daireen, regardless of her dripping condition, threw herself into -his arms, and the stranger turned away whistling. He reached the road -and shook his head confidentially at the commodore, who was standing -beside the Cape cart. - -“Touching thing to be a father, eh, Admiral?” he said. - -“Stop, sir,” said the commodore. “You must wait till this is explained.” - -“Must I?” said the man. “Who is there here that will keep me?” - -“What can I say to you, sir?” cried Colonel Gerald, coming up and -holding out his hand to the stranger. “I have no words to thank you.” - -“Well, as to that, General,” said the man, “it seems to me the less -that's said the better. Take my advice and get the lady something to -drink--anything that teetotallers won't allow is safe to be wholesome.” - -“Come to my house,” said the commodore. “Miss Gerald will find -everything there.” - -“You bet you'll find something in the spirituous way at the admiral's -quarters, miss,” remarked the stranger, as Daireen was helped into the -vehicle. “No, thank you, General, I'll walk to the hotel where I put -up.” - -“Pray let me call upon you before I leave,” said Colonel Gerald. - -“Delighted to see you, General; if you come within the next two hours, -I'll slip the tinsel off a bottle of Moët with you. Now, don't wait -here. If you had got a pearly stream of salt water running down your -spine you wouldn't wait; would they, miss? Aw revaw.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. - - - I shall, first asking your pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of -my sudden and more strange return. - - O limèd soul, that, struggling to be free, - - Art more engaged. - - Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be.--_Hamlet._ - - -|QUITE three hours had passed before Colonel Gerald was able to return -to the hotel. The stranger was sitting in the coffee-room with a tumbler -and a square bottle of cognac in front of him as the colonel entered. - -“Ah, General,” cried the stranger, “you are come. I was sorry I said -two hours, you know, because, firstly, I might have known that at the -admiral's quarters the young lady would get as many doses as would make -her fancy something was the matter with her; and, secondly, because I -didn't think that they would take three hours to dry a suit of tweed -like this. You see it, General; this blooming suit is a proof of the low -state of morality that exists in this colony. The man I bought it from -took an oath that it wouldn't shrink, and yet, just look at it. It's a -wicked world this we live in, General. I went to bed while the suit -was being dried, and I believe they kept the fire low so that they may -charge me with the bed. And how is the young lady?” - -“I am happy to say that she has quite recovered from the effects of -her exhaustion and her wetting,” said Colonel Gerald. “Had you not been -near, and had you not had that brave heart you showed, my daughter -would have been lost. But I need not say anything to you--you know how I -feel.” - -“We may take it for granted,” said the man. - -“Nothing that either of us could say would make it plainer, at any rate. -You don't live in this city, General?” - -“No, I live near Cape Town, where I am now returning with my daughter,” - said Colonel Gerald. - -“That's queer,” said the man. “Here am I too not living here and just -waiting to get the post-cart to bring me to Cape Town.” - -“I need scarcely say that I should be delighted if you would accept a -seat with me,” remarked the colonel. - -“Don't say that if there's not a seat to spare, General.” - -“But, my dear sir, we have two seats to spare. Can I tell my man to put -your portmanteau in?” - -“Yes, if he can find it,” laughed the stranger. “Fact is, General, I -haven't any property here except this tweed suit two sizes too small for -me now. But these trousers have got pockets, and the pockets hold a good -many sovereigns without bursting. I mean to set up a portmanteau in Cape -Town. Yes, I'll take a seat with you so far.” - -The stranger was scarcely the sort of man Colonel Gerald would have -chosen to accompany him under ordinary circumstances, but now he felt -towards the rough man who had saved the life of his daughter as he would -towards a brother. - -The wagonette drove round to the commodore's house for Daireen, and the -stranger expressed very frankly the happiness he felt at finding her -nothing the worse for her accident. - -And indeed she did not seem to have suffered greatly; she was a -little paler, and the commodore's people insisted on wrapping her up -elaborately. - -“It was so very foolish of me,” she said to the stranger, when they -had passed out of Simon's Town and were going rapidly along the road to -Wynberg. “It was so very foolish indeed to sit down upon that rock and -forget all about the tide. I must have been there an hour.” - -“Ah, miss,” said the man, “I'll take my oath it wasn't of your pa you -were thinking all that time. Ah, these young fellows have a lot to -answer for.” - -This was not very subtle humour, Colonel Gerald felt; he found himself -wishing that his daughter had owed her life to a more refined man; but -on the whole he was just as glad that a man of sensitiveness had not -been in the place of this coarse stranger upon that beach a few hours -before. - -“I don't think I am wrong in believing that you have travelled a good -deal,” said Colonel Gerald, in some anxiety lest the stranger might -pursue his course of humorous banter. - -“Travelled?” said the stranger. “Perhaps I have. Yes, sir, I have -travelled, not excursionised. I've knocked about God's footstool since -I was a boy, and yet it seems to me that I'm only beginning my travels. -I've been----” - -And the stranger continued telling of where he had been until the oak -avenue at Mowbray was reached. He talked very freshly and frankly of -every place both in the Northern and Southern hemispheres. The account -of his travels was very interesting, though perhaps to the colonel's -servant it was the most entertaining. - -“I have taken it for granted that you have no engagement in Cape Town,” - said Colonel Gerald as he turned the horses down the avenue. “We shall -be dining in a short time, and I hope you will join us.” - -“I don't want to intrude, General,” said the man. “But I allow that -I could dine heartily without going much farther. As for having an -appointment in Cape Town--I don't know a single soul in the colony--not -a soul, sir--unless--why, hang it all, who's that standing on the walk -in front of us?--I'm a liar, General; I do know one man in the colony; -there he stands, for if that isn't Oswin Markham I'll eat him with -relish.” - -“It is indeed Markham,” said Colonel Gerald. “And you know him?” - -“Know him?” the stranger laughed. “Know him?” Then as the wagonette -pulled up beside where Markham was standing in front of the house, the -stranger leapt down, saying, as he clapped Oswin on the shoulder, “The -General asks me if I know you, old boy; answer for me, will you?” - -But Oswin Markham was staring blankly from the man to Daireen and her -father. - -“You told me you were going to New York,” he said at last. - -“And so I was when you packed me aboard the _Virginia_ brig so neatly -at Natal, but the _Virginia_ brig put into Simon's Bay and cut her cable -one night, leaving me ashore. It's Providence, Oswin--Providence.” - -Oswin had allowed his hand to be taken by the man, who was the same that -had spent the night with him in the hotel at Pietermaritzburg. Then he -turned as if from a fit of abstraction, to Daireen and the colonel. - -“I beg your pardon a thousand times,” he said. “But this meeting with -Mr. Despard has quite startled me.” - -“Mr. Despard,” said the colonel, “I must ever look on as one of my best -friends, though we met to-day for the first time. I owe him a debt that -I can never repay--my daughter's life.” - -Oswin turned and grasped the hand of the man whom he had called Mr. -Despard, before they entered the house together. - -Daireen went in just before Markham; they had not yet exchanged a -sentence, but when her father and Despard had entered one of the rooms, -she turned, saying: - -“A month--a month yesterday.” - -“More,” he answered; “it must be more.” - -The girl laughed low as she went on to her room. But when she found -herself apart from every one, she did not laugh. She had her own -preservation from death to reflect upon, but it occupied her mind less -than the thought that came to her shaping itself into the words, “He has -returned.” - -The man of whom she was thinking was standing pale and silent in a room -where much conversation was floating, for Mr. Harwood had driven out -with Markham from Cape Town, and he had a good deal to say on the Zulu -question, which was beginning to be no question. The Macnamara had also -come to pass the evening with Colonel Gerald, and he was not silent. -Oswin watched Despard and the hereditary monarch speaking together, and -he saw them shake hands. Harwood was in close conversation with Colonel -Gerald, but he was not so utterly absorbed in his subject but that he -could notice how Markham's eyes were fixed upon the stranger. The terms -of a new problem were suggesting themselves to Mr. Harwood. - -Then Daireen entered the room, and greeted Mr. Harwood courteously--much -too courteously for his heart's desire. He did not feel so happy as he -should have done, when she laughed pleasantly and reminded him of her -prophecy as to his safe return. He felt as he had done on that morning -when he had said good-bye to her: his time had not yet come. But what -was delaying that hour he yearned for? She was now standing beside -Markham, looking up to his face as she spoke to him. She was not smiling -at him. What could these things mean? Harwood asked himself--Lottie -Vincent's spiteful remark with reference to Daireen at the lunch that -had taken place on the hillside in his absence--Oswin's remark about not -being strong enough to leave the associations of Cape Town--this quiet -meeting without smiles or any of the conventionalities of ordinary -acquaintance--what did all these mean? Mr. Harwood felt that he had at -last got before him the terms of a question the working out of which was -more interesting to him than any other that could be propounded. And -he knew also that this man Despard was an important auxiliary to its -satisfactory solution. - -“Dove of Glenmara, let me look upon your sweet face again, and say that -you are not hurt,” cried The Macnamara, taking the girl by both her -hands and looking into her face. “Thank God you are left to be the pride -of the old country. We are not here to weep over this new sorrow. What -would life be worth to us if anything had happened to the pulse of our -hearts? Glenmara would be desolate and Slieve Docas would sit in ashes.” - -The Macnamara pressed his lips to the girl's forehead as a condescending -monarch embraces a favoured subject. - -“Bravo, King! you'd make a fortune with that sort of sentiment on the -boards; you would, by heavens!” said Mr. Despard with an unmodulated -laugh. - -The Macnamara seemed to take this testimony as a compliment, for he -smiled, though the remark did not appear to strike any one else as being -imbued with humour. Harwood looked at the man curiously; but Markham was -gazing in another direction without any expression upon his face. - -In the course of the evening the Bishop of the Calapash Islands dropped -in. His lordship had taken a house in the neighbourhood for so long as -he would be remaining in the colony; and since he had had that interview -with Mrs. Crawford, his visits to his old friend Colonel Gerald were -numerous and unconventional. He, too, smiled upon Dairecn in his very -pleasantest manner, and after hearing from the colonel--who felt -perhaps that some little explanation of the stranger's presence might -be necessary--of Daireen's accident, the bishop spoke a few words to Mr. -Despard and shook hands with him--an honour which Mr. Despard sustained -without emotion. - -In spite of these civilities, however, this evening was unlike any that -the colonel's friends had spent at the cottage. The bishop only remained -for about an hour, and Harwood and Markham soon afterwards took their -departure. - -“I'll take a seat with you, Oswin, my boy,” said Despard. “We'll be at -the same hotel in Cape Town, and we may as well all go together.” - -And they did all go together. - -“Fine fellow, the colonel, isn't he?” remarked Despard, before they had -got well out of the avenue. “I called him general on chance when I -saw him for the first time to-day--you're never astray in beginning at -general and working your way down, with these military nobs. And the -bishop is a fine old boy too--rather too much palm-oil and glycerine -about him, though--too smooth and shiny for my taste. I expect he does -a handsome trade amongst the Salamanders. A smart bishop could make a -fortune there, I know. And then the king--the Irish king as he calls -himself--well, maybe he's the best of the lot.” - -There did not seem to be anything in Mr. Despard's opening speech -that required an answer. There was a considerable pause before Harwood -remarked quietly: “By the way, Mr. Despard, I think I saw you some time -ago. I have a good recollection for faces.” - -“Did you?” said Despard. “Where was it? At 'Frisco or Fiji? South -Carolina or South Australia?” - -“I am not recalling the possibilities of such faraway memories,” said -Harwood. “But if I don't mistake, you were the person in the audience at -Pietermaritzburg who made some remark complimentary to Markham.” - -The man laughed. “You are right, mister. I only wonder I didn't shout -out something before, for I never was so taken aback as when I saw him -come out as that Prince. A shabby trick it was you played on me the next -morning, Oswin--I say it was infernally shabby. You know what he did, -mister: when I had got to the outside of more than one bottle of Moët, -and so wasn't very clear-headed, he packed me into one of the carts, -drove me to Durban before daylight, and sent me aboard the _Virginia_ -brig that I had meant to leave. That wasn't like friendship, was it?” - -But upon this delicate question Mr. Harwood did not think it prudent to -deliver an opinion. Markham himself was mute, yet this did not seem to -have a depressing effect upon Mr. Despard. He gave a _résumé_ of -the most important events in the voyage of the _Virginia_ brig, and -described very graphically how he had unfortunately become insensible -to the fact that the vessel was leaving Simon's Bay on the previous -morning; so that when he awoke, the _Virginia_ brig was on her way to -New York city, while he was on a sofa in the hotel surrounded by empty -bottles. - -When Markham was alone with this man in a room at the hotel at Cape -Town, Despard became even more talkative. - -“By heavens, Oswin,” he said, “you have changed your company a bit since -you were amongst us; generals, bishops, and kings--kings, by Jingo--seem -to be your chums here. Well, don't you think that I don't believe you to -be right. You were never of our sort in Australia--we all felt you to be -above us, and treated you so--making a pigeon of you now and again, but -never looking on ourselves as your equal. By heavens, I think now that I -have got in with these people and seem to get on so well with them, I'll -turn over a new leaf.” - -“Do you mean to stay here longer than this week?” asked Oswin. - -“This week? I'll not leave for another month--another six months, maybe. -I've money, my boy, and--suppose we have something to drink--something -that will sparkle?” - -“I don't mean to drink anything,” Oswin replied. - -“You must have something,” Despard insisted. “You must admit that though -the colonel is a glorious old boy, he didn't do the hospitable in the -liquid way. But I'll keep in with the lot of them. I'll go out to see -the colonel and his pretty daughter now and again. Ah, by George, that -pretty daughter seems to have played the mischief with some of the young -fellows about here. 'Sir,' says the king of Ireland to me, 'I fale more -than I can till ye: the swate girl ye saved is to be me sonn's broide.' -This looked well enough for the king, and we got very great friends, as -you saw. But then the bishop comes up to me and, says he, 'Sir, allow me -to shake you by the hand. You do not know how I feel towards that young -lady who owes her life to your bravery.' I looked at him seriously: -'Bishop,' said I, 'I can't encourage this sort of thing. You might be -her father.' Well, my boy, you never saw anything so flustered as that -bishop became; it was more than a minute before he could tell me that it -was his son who had the tender heart about the girl. That bishop didn't -ask me to dine with him; though the king did, and I'm going out to him -to-morrow evening.” - -“You are going to him?” said Markham. - -“To be sure I am. He agreed with me about the colonel's hospitality in -the drink way. 'You'll find it different in my house,' said the king; -and I think you know, Oswin, that the king and me have one point in -common.” - -“Good-night,” said Markham, going to the door. “No, I told you I did not -mean to drink anything.” - -He left Mr. Despard on the sofa smoking the first of a box of cigars he -had just ordered. - -“He's changed--that boy is,” said Despard. “He wouldn't have gone out in -that fashion six months ago. But what the deuce has changed him? -that's what I'd like to know. He wants to get me away from here--that's -plain--plain? by George, it's ugly. But here I am settled for a few -months at least if--hang that waiter, is he never going to bring me that -bottle of old Irish?” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII. - - -Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play -upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart -of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my -compass....'S blood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a -pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you -cannot play upon me.--_Hamlet_. - - -|OSWIN Markham sat in his own room in the hotel. The window was open, -and through it from the street below came the usual sounds of Cape -Town--terrible Dutch mingling with Malay and dashed with Kafir. It was -not the intensity of a desire to listen to this polyglot mixture that -caused Markham to go upon the balcony and stand looking out to the -night. - -He reflected upon what had passed since he had been in this place a -month before. He had gone up to Natal, and in company of Harwood he had -had a brief hunting expedition. He had followed the spoor of the gemsbok -over veldt and through kloof, sleeping in the house of the hospitable -boers when chance offered; but all the time he had been possessed of -one supreme thought--one supreme hope that made his life seem a joyous -thing--he had looked forward to this day--the day when he would have -returned, when he would again be able to look into the face that moved -like a phantom before him wherever he went. And he had returned--for -this--this looking, not into her face, but into the street below him, -while he thought if it would not be better for him to step out beyond -the balcony--out into the blank that would follow his casting of himself -down. - -He came to the conclusion that it would not be better to step beyond -the balcony. A thought seemed to strike him as he stood out there. He -returned to his chamber and threw himself on his bed, but he did not -remain passive for long; once more he stepped into the air, and now he -had need to wipe his forehead with his handkerchief. - -It was an hour afterwards that he undressed himself; but the bugle at -the barracks had sounded a good many times before he fell asleep. - -Mr. Harwood, too, had an hour of reflection when he went to his room; -but his thoughts were hardly of the excitable type of Markham's; they -had, however, a definite result, which caused him to seek out Mr. -Despard in the morning. - -Mr. Despard had just finished a light and salutary breakfast consisting -of a glass of French brandy in a bottle of soda-water, and he was -smoking another sample of that box of cigars on the balcony. - -“Good-morning to you, mister,” he said, nodding as Harwood came, as if -by chance, beside him. - -“Ah, how do you do?” said Harwood. “Enjoying your morning smoke, I see. -Well, I hope you are nothing the worse for your plunge yesterday.” - -“No, sir, nothing; I only hope that Missy out there will be as sound. I -don't think they insisted on her drinking enough afterwards.” - -“Ah, perhaps not. Your friend Markham has not come down yet, they tell -me.” - -“He was never given to running ties with the sun,” said Mr. Despard. - -“He told me you were a particular friend of his in Australia?” continued -Mr. Harwood. - -“Yes, men very soon get to be friends out there; but Oswin and myself -were closer than brothers in every row and every lark.” - -“Of which you had, no doubt, a good many? - -“A good few, yes; a few that wouldn't do to be printed specially as -prizes for young ladies' boarding-schools--not but what the young ladies -would read them if they got the chance.” - -“Few fellows would care to write their autobiographies and go into the -details of their life,” said Harwood. “I suppose you got into trouble -now and again?” - -“Trouble? Well, yes, when the money ran short, and there was no balance -at the bank; that's real trouble, let me tell you.” - -“It certainly is; but I mean, did you not sometimes need the friendly -offices of a lawyer after a wild few days?” - -“Sir,” said Despard, throwing away the end of his cigar, “if your idea -of a wild few days is housebreaking or manslaughter, it wasn't ours, I -can tell you. No, my boy, we never took to bushranging; and though -I've had my turn with Derringer's small cannons when I was at Chokeneck -Gulch, it was only because it was the custom of the country. No, sir; -Oswin, though he seems to have turned against me here, will still have -my good word, for I swear to you he never did anything that made the -place too hot for him, though I don't suppose that if he was in a -competitive examination for a bishopric the true account of his life in -Melbourne would help him greatly.” - -“There are none of us here who mean to be bishops,” laughed Harwood. -“But I understood from a few words Markham let fall that--well, never -mind, he is a right good fellow, as I found when we went up country -together a couple of weeks ago. By the way, do you mean to remain here -long, Mr. Despard?” - -“Life is short, mister, and I've learned never to make arrangements very -far in advance. I've about eighty sovereigns with me, and I'll stay here -till they're spent.” - -“Then your stay will be proportionate to your spending powers.” - -“In an inverse ratio, as they used to say at school,” said Despard. - -When Mr. Harwood went into the room he reflected that on the whole -he had not gained much information from Mr. Despard; and Mr. Despard -reflected that on the whole Mr. Harwood had not got much information by -his system of leading questions. - -About half an hour afterwards Markham came out upon the balcony, and -gave a little unaccountable start on seeing its sole occupant. - -“Hallo, my boy! have you turned up at last?” cried Despard. “Our good -old Calapash friend will tell you that unless you get up with the lark -you'll never do anything in the world. You should have been here a short -time ago to witness the hydraulic experiments.” - -“The what?” said Markham. - -“Hydraulic experiments. The patent pump of the _Dominant Trumpeter_ was -being tested upon me. Experiments failed, not through any incapacity -of the pump, but through the contents of the reservoir worked upon not -running free enough in the right direction.” - -“Was Mr. Harwood here?” - -“He was, my boy. And he wanted to know all about how we lived in -Melbourne.” - -“And you told him----” - -“To get up a little earlier in the morning when he wants to try his -pumping apparatus. But what made you give that start? Don't you know -that all I could tell would be some of our old larks, and he wouldn't -have thought anything the worse of you on account of them? Hang it -all, you don't mean to say you're going into holy orders, that you mind -having any of the old times brought back? If you do, I'm afraid that -it will be awkward for you if I talk in my ordinary way. I won't bind -myself not to tell as many of our larks as chime in with the general -conversation. I only object on principle to be pumped.” - -“Talk away,” said Oswin spasmodically. “Tell of all our larks. How could -I be affected by anything you may tell of them?” - -“Bravo! That's what I say. Larks are larks. There was no manslaughter -nor murder. No, there was no murder.” - -“No, there was no murder,” said Markham. - -The other burst into a laugh that startled a Malay in the street below. - -“By heavens, from the way you said that one would fancy there had been a -murder,” he cried. - -Then there was a long pause, which was broken by Markham. - -“You still intend to go out to dine with that man you met yesterday?” he -said. - -“Don't call him a man, Oswin; you wouldn't call a bishop a man, and why -call a king one. Yes, I have ordered a horse that is said to know the -way across those Flats without a pocket compass.” - -“Where did you say the house was?” - -“It's near a place called Rondebosch. I remember the locality well, -though it's ten years since I was there. The shortest way back is -through a pine-wood at the far end of The Flats--you know that place, of -course.” - -“I know The Flats. And you mean to come through the pine-wood?” - -“I do mean it. It's a nasty place to ride through, but the horse always -goes right in a case like that, and I'll give him his head.” - -“Take care that you have your own at that time,” said Markham. “The -house of the Irishman is not like Colonel Gerald's.” - -“I hope not, for a more thirsty evening I never spent than at your -friend's cottage. The good society hardly made up for the want of drink. -It put me in mind of the story of the man that found the pearls when he -was starving in the desert. What are bishops and kings to a fellow if he -is thirsty?” - -“You will leave the house to return here between eleven and twelve, I -suppose?” said Oswin. - -“Well, I should say that about eleven will see me on my way.” - -“And you will go through the pine-wood?” - -“I will, my boy, and across The Flats until I pass the little -river--it's there still, I suppose. And now suppose I buy you a drink?” - -But Oswin Markham declined to be the object of such a purchase. He went -back to his own room, and threw himself on his bed, where he remained -for more than an hour. Then he rose and wiped his forehead. - -He pulled down some books that he had bought, and tried to read bits of -one or two. He sat diligently down as if he meant to go through a day's -reading, but he did not appear to be in the mood for applying himself to -anything. He threw the books aside and turned over some newspapers; but -these did not seem to engross him any more than the books had done. He -lay back in his chair, and after a while his restlessness subsided: he -had fallen asleep. - -It was the afternoon before he awoke with a sudden start. He heard the -sound of voices in the street below his window. He went forward, and, -looking out, was just in time to see Harry Despard mounting his horse at -the hotel door. - -“I will be back about midnight,” he said to the porter of the hotel, and -then he trotted off. - -Markham heard the sound of the horse's hoofs die away on the street, and -he repeated the man's words: “About midnight.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. - - - To desperation turn my trust and hope. - - What if this cursed hand - - Were thicker than itself with brother's blood, - - Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens - - To wash it white as snow? - - I'll have prepared him - - A chalice for the nonce whereon but sipping - - ... he... - - Chaunted snatches of old tunes, - - As one incapable. - - The drink--the drink--... the foul practice - - Hath turned itself on me; lo, here I lie... - - I can no more: the King--the King's to blame.--_Hamlet_. - - -|OSWIN Markham dined at the hotel late in the evening, and when he was -in the act Harwood came into the room dressed for a dinner-party at -Greenpoint to which he had been invited. - -“Your friend Mr. Despard is not here?” said Harwood, looking around -the room. “I wanted to see him for a moment to give him a few words of -advice that may be useful to him. I wish to goodness you would speak to -him, Markham; he has been swaggering about in a senseless way, talking -of having his pockets full of sovereigns, and in the hearing of every -stranger that comes into the hotel. In the bar a few hours ago he -repeated his boast to the Malay who brought him his horse. Now, for -Heaven's sake, tell him that unless he wishes particularly to have a -bullet in his head or a khris in his body some of these nights, he had -better hold his tongue about his wealth--that is what I meant to say to -him.” - -“And you are right,” cried Oswin, starting up suddenly. “He has been -talking in the hearing of men who would do anything for the sake of a -few sovereigns. What more likely than that some of them should follow -him and knock him down? That will be his end, Harwood.” - -“It need not be,” replied Harwood. “If you caution him, he will most -likely regard what you say to him.” - -“I will caution him--if I see him again,” said Markham; then Harwood -left the room, and Markham sat down again, but he did not continue -his dinner. He sat there staring at his plate. “What more likely?” he -muttered. “What more likely than that he should be followed and murdered -by some of these men? If his body should be found with his pockets -empty, no one could doubt it.” - -He sat there for a considerable time--until the streets had become -dark; then he rose and went up to his own room for a while, and finally -he put on his hat and left the hotel. - -He looked at his watch as he walked to the railway station, and saw that -he would be just in time to catch a train leaving for Wynberg. He took -a ticket for the station on the Cape Town side of Mowbray, where he got -out. - -He walked from the station to the road and again looked at his watch: -it was not yet nine o'clock; and then he strolled aside upon a little -foot-track that led up the lower slopes of the Peak above Mowbray. The -night was silent and moonless. Upon the road only at intervals came the -rumbling of bullock wagons and the shouts of the Kafir drivers. The hill -above him was sombre and untouched by any glance of light, and no breeze -stirred up the scents of the heath. He walked on in the silence until he -had come to the ravine of silver firs. He passed along the track at the -edge and was soon at the spot where he had sat at the feet of Daireen a -month before. He threw himself down on the short coarse grass just as -he had done then, and every moment of the hour they had passed together -came back to him. Every word that had been spoken, every thought that -had expressed itself upon that lovely face which the delicate sunset -light had touched--all returned to him. - -What had he said to her? That the past life he had lived was blotted out -from his mind? Yes, he had tried to make himself believe that; but now -how Fate had mocked him! He had been bitterly forced to acknowledge -that the past was a part of the present. His week so full of bitterest -suffering had not formed a dividing line between the two lives he -fancied might be his. - -“Is this the justice of God?” he cried out now to the stars, clasping -his hands in agony above his head. “It is unjust. My life would have -been pure and good now, if I had been granted my right of forgetfulness. -But I have been made the plaything of God.” He stood with his hands -clasped on his head for long. Then he gave a laugh. “Bah!” he said; “man -is master of his fate. I shall do myself the justice that God has denied -me.” - -He came down from that solemn mount, and crossed he road at a nearer -point than the Mowbray avenue. - -He soon found himself by the brink of that little river which flowed -past Rondebosch and Mowbray. He got beneath the trees that bordered its -banks, and stood for a long time in the dead silence of the night. The -mighty dog-lilies were like pictures beneath him; and only now and again -came some of those mysterious sounds of night--the rustling of certain -leaves when all the remainder were motionless, the winnowing of the -wings of some night creature whose form remained invisible, the sudden -stirring of ripples upon the river without a cause being apparent--the -man standing there heard all, and all appeared mysterious to him. He -wondered how he could have so often been by night in places like this, -without noticing how mysterious the silence was--how mysterious the -strange sounds. - -He walked along by the bank of the slow river, until he was just -opposite Mowbray. A little bridge with rustic rails was, he knew, at -hand, by which he would cross the stream--for he must cross it. But -before he had reached it, he heard a sound. He paused. Could it be -possible that it was the sound of a horse's hoofs? There he waited until -something white passed from under the trees and reached the bridge, -standing between him and the other side of the river--something that -barred his way. He leant against the tree nearest to him, for he seemed -to be falling to the ground, and then through the stillness of the night -the voice of Daireen came singing a snatch of song--his song. She was on -the little bridge and leaning upon the rail. In a few moments she stood -upright, and listlessly walked under the trees where he was standing, -though she could not see him. - -“Daireen,” he said gently, so that she might not be startled; and she -was not startled, she only walked backwards a few steps until she was -again at the bridge. - -“Did any one speak?” she said almost in a whisper. And then he stood -before her while she laughed with happiness. - -“Why do you stand there?” he said in a tone of wonder. “What was it sent -you to stand there between me and the other side of that river?” - -“I said to papa that I would wait for him here. He went to see Major -Crawford part of the way to the house where the Crawfords are staying; -but what can be keeping him from returning I don't know. I promised not -to go farther than the avenue, and I have just been here a minute.” - -He looked at her standing there before him. “Oh God! oh God!” he said, -as he reflected upon what his own thoughts had been a moment before. -“Daireen, you are an angel of God--that angel which stood between the -living and the dead. Stay near me. Oh, child! what do I not owe to you? -my life--the peace of my soul for ever and ever. And yet--must we speak -no word of love together, Daireen?” - -“Not one--here,” she said. “Not one--only--ah, my love, my love, why -should we speak of it? It is all my life--I breathe it--I think it--it -is myself.” - -He looked at her and laughed. “This moment is ours,” he said with -tremulous passion. “God cannot pluck it from us. It is an immortal -moment, if our souls are immortal. Child, can God take you away from -me before I have kissed you on the mouth?” He held her face between his -hands and kissed her. “Darling, I have taken your white soul into mine,” - he said. - -Then they stood apart on that bridge. - -“And now,” she said, “you must never frighten me with your strange words -again. I do not know what you mean sometimes, but then that is because -I don't know very much. I feel that you are good and true, and I have -trusted you.” - -“I will be true to you,” he said gently. “I will die loving you better -than any hope man has of heaven. Daireen, never dream, whatever may -happen, that I shall not love you while my soul lives.” - -“I will believe you,” she said; and then voices were heard coming down -the lane of aloes at the other side of the river--voices and the sound -of a horse's hoofs. Colonel Gerald and Major Crawford were coming along -leading a horse, across whose saddle lay a black mass. Oswin Markham -gave a start. Then Daireen's father hastened forward to where she was -standing. - -“Child,” he said quickly, “go back--go back to the house. I will come to -you in a few minutes.” - -“What is the matter, papa?” she asked. “No one is hurt?--Major Crawford -is not hurt?” - -“No, no, he is here; but go, Daireen--go at once.” - -She turned and went up the avenue without a word. But she saw that Oswin -was not looking at her--that he was grasping the rail of the bridge -while he gazed to where the horse with its burden stood a few yards away -among the aloes. - -“I am glad you chance to be here, Markham,” said Colonel Gerald -hurriedly. “Something has happened--that man Despard----” - -“Not dead--not murdered!” gasped Oswin, clutching the rail with both -hands. - -“Murdered? no; how could he be murdered? he must have fallen from his -horse among the trees.” - -“And he is dead--he is dead?” - -“Calm yourself, Markham,” said the colonel; “he is not dead.” - -“Not in that sense, my boy,” laughed Major Crawford. “By gad, if we -could leave the brute up to the neck in the river here for a few hours I -fancy he would be treated properly. Hold him steady, Markham.” - -Oswin put his hand mechanically to the feet of the man who was lying -helplessly across the saddle. - -“Not dead, not dead,” he whispered. - -“Only dead drunk, unless his skull is fractured, my boy,” laughed the -major. “We'll take him to the stables, of course, George?” - -“No, no, to the house,” said Colonel Gerald. - -“Run on and get the key of the stables, George,” said the major -authoritatively. “Don't you suppose in any way that your house is to be -turned into an hospital for dipsomaniacs. Think of the child.” - -Colonel Gerald made a little pause, and then hastened forward to awaken -the groom to get the key of the stables, which were some distance from -the cottage. - -“By gad, Markham, I'd like to spill the brute into that pond,” whispered -the major to Oswin, as they waited for the colonel's return. - -“How did you find him? Did you see any accident?” asked Oswin. - -“We met the horse trotting quietly along the avenue without a rider, -and when we went on among the trees we found the fellow lying helpless. -George said he was killed, but I knew better. Irish whisky, my boy, was -what brought him down, and you will find that I am right.” - -They let the man slide from the saddle upon a heap of straw when the -stable door was opened by the half-dressed groom. - -“Not dead, Jack?” said Colonel Gerald as a lantern was held to the man's -face. Only the major was looking at the man; Markham could not trust -himself even to glance towards him. - -“Dead?” said the major. “Why, since we have laid him down I have heard -him frame three distinct oaths. Have you a bucket of water handy, my -good man? No, it needn't be particularly clean. Ah, that will do. Now, -if you don't hear a choice selection of colonial blasphemy, he's dead -and, by gad, sir, so am I.” - -The major's extensive experience of the treatment of colonial complaints -had, as the result proved, led him to form a correct if somewhat hasty -diagnosis of the present case. Not more than a gallon of the water had -been thrown upon the man before he recovered sufficient consciousness -to allow of his expressing himself with freedom on the subject of his -treatment. - -“I told you so,” chuckled the major. “Fill the bucket again, my man.” - -Colonel Gerald could only laugh now that his fears had been dispelled. -He hastened to the house to tell Daireen that there was no cause for -alarm. - -By the time the second bucketful had been applied, in pursuance of the -major's artless system of resuscitation, Despard was sitting up talking -of the oppressions under which a certain nation was groaning. He was -sympathetic and humorous in turn; weeping after particular broken -sentences, and chuckling with laughter after other parts of his speech. - -“The Irish eloquence and the Irish whisky have run neck and neck for the -fellow's soul,” said the major. “If we hadn't picked him up he would -be in a different state now. Are you going back to Cape Town to-night, -Markham?” - -“I am,” said Oswin. - -“That's lucky. You mustn't let George have his way in this matter. This -brute would stay in the cottage up there for a month.” - -“He must not do that,” cried Markham eagerly. - -“No, my boy; so you will drive with him in the Cape cart to the hotel. -He will give you no trouble if you lay him across the floor and keep -your feet well down upon his chest. Put one of the horses in, my man,” - continued the major, turning to the groom. “You will drive in with Mr. -Markham, and bring the cart back.” - -Before Colonel Gerald had returned from the house a horse was harnessed -to the Cape cart, Despard had been lifted up and placed in an easy -attitude against one of the seats. And only a feeble protest was offered -by the colonel. - -“My dear Markham,” he said, “it was very lucky you were passing where my -daughter saw you. You know this man Despard--how could I have him in my -house?” - -“In your house!” cried Markham. “Thank God I was here to prevent that.” - -The Cape cart was already upon the avenue and the lamps were lighted. -But a little qualm seemed to come to the colonel. - -“Are you sure he is not injured--that he has quite recovered from any -possible effects?” he said. - -Then came the husky voice of the man. - -“Go'night, king, go'night. I'm alright--horse know's way. We're -tram'led on, king--'pressed people--but wormil turn--wormil turn--never -mind--Go save Ireland--green flag litters o'er us--tread th' land that -bore us--go'night.” - -The cart was in motion before the man's words had ceased. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX. - - - Look you lay home to him: - - Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with. - - What to ourselves in passion we propose, - - The passion ending, doth the purpose lose. - - I must leave thee, love... - - And thou shalt live in this fair world behind, - - Honour'd, belov'd, and haply one as kind - - For husband shalt thou-- - - Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife.--_Hamlet_. - - -|OSWIN Markham lay awake nearly all that night after he had reached the -hotel. His thoughts were not of that even nature whose proper sequence -is sleep. He thought of all that had passed since he had left the -room he was lying in now. What had been on his mind on leaving this -room--what had his determination been? - -“For her,” he said; “for her. It would have been for her. God keep -me--God pity me!” - -The morning came with the sound of marching soldiers in the street -below; with the cry of bullock-wagon-drivers and the rattle of the rude -carts; with the morning and the sounds of life--the breaking of the -deadly silence of the night--sleep came to the man. - -It was almost midday before he awoke, and for some time after opening -his eyes he was powerless to recollect anything that had happened during -the night; his awakening now was as his return to consciousness on board -the _Cardwell Castle_,--a great blank seemed to have taken place in his -life--the time of unconsciousness was a gulf that all his efforts of -memory could not at first bridge. - -He looked around the room, and his first consciousness was the -recollection of what his thoughts of the previous evening had been when -he had slept in the chair before the window and had awakened to see -Despard ride away. He failed at once to remember anything of the -interval of night; only with that one recollection burning on his brain -he looked at his right hand. - -In a short time he remembered everything. He knew that Despard was in -the hotel. He dressed himself and went downstairs, and found Harwood in -the coffee-room, reading sundry documents with as anxious an expression -of countenance as a special correspondent ever allows himself to assume. - -“What is the news?” Markham asked, feeling certain that something -unusual had either taken place or was seen by the prophetical vision of -Harwood to be looming in the future. - -“War,” said Harwood, looking up. “War, Markham. I should never have left -Natal. They have been working up to the point for the last few months, -as I saw; but now there is no hope for a peaceful settlement.” - -“The Zulu chief is not likely to come to terms now?” said Markham. - -“Impossible,” replied the other. “Quite impossible. In a few days there -will, no doubt, be a call for volunteers.” - -“For volunteers?” Markham repeated. “You will go up country at once, I -suppose?” he added. - -“Not quite as a volunteer, but as soon as I receive my letters by the -mail that arrives in a few days, I shall be off to Durban, at any rate.” - -“And you will be glad of it, no doubt. You told me you liked doing -war-correspondence.” - -“Did I?” said Harwood; and after a little pause he added slowly: “It's -a tiring life this I have been leading for the past fifteen years, -Markham. I seem to have cut myself off from the sympathies of life. I -seem to have been only a looker-on in the great struggles--the great -pleasures--of life. I am supposed to have no more sympathies than -Babbage's calculator that records certain facts without emotion, and -I fancied I had schooled myself into this cold apathy in looking at -things; but I don't think I have succeeded in cutting myself off from -all sympathies. No, I shall not be glad of this war. Never mind. By the -way, are you going out to Dr. Glaston's to-night?” - -“I have got a card for his dinner, but I cannot tell what I may do. I am -not feeling myself, just now.” - -“You certainly don't look yourself, Markham. You are haggard, and -as pale as if you had not got any sleep for nights. You want the -constitution of your friend Mr. Despard, who is breakfasting in the -bar.” - -“What, is it possible he is out of his room?” cried Markham, in -surprise. - -“Why, he was waiting here an hour ago when I came down, and in the -meantime he had been buying a suit of garments, he said, that gallant -check of his having come to grief through the night.” - -Harwood spoke the words at the door and then he left the room. - -Oswin was not for long left in solitary occupation, however, for in -a few moments the door was flung open, and Despard entered with a -half-empty tumbler in his hand. He came forward with a little chuckling -laugh and stood in front of Oswin without speaking. He looked with his -blood-shot eyes into Oswin's cold pale face, and then burst into a laugh -so hearty that he was compelled to leave the tumbler upon the table, -not having sufficient confidence in his ability to grasp it under the -influence of his excitement. Then he tapped Markham on the shoulder, -crying: - -“Well, old boy, have you got over that lark of last night? Like the old -times, wasn't it? You did the fatherly by me, I believe, though hang -me if I remember what happened after I had drunk the last glass of old -Irish with our friend the king. How the deuce did I get in with the -teetotal colonel who, the boots has been telling me, lent me his cart? -That's what I should like to know. And where were you, my boy, all the -night?” - -“Despard,” said Markham, “I have borne with your brutal insults long -enough. I will not bear them any longer. When you have so disgraced both -yourself and me as you did last night, it is time to bring matters to a -climax. I cannot submit to have you thrust yourself upon my friends as -you have done. You behaved like a brute.” - -Despard seated himself and wiped his eyes. “I did behave like a brute,” - he said. “I always do, I know--and you know too, Oswin. Never mind. Tell -me what you want--what am I to do?” - -“You must leave the colony,” said Oswin quickly, almost eagerly. “I -will give you money, and a ticket to England to-day. You must leave this -place at once.” - -“And so I will--so I will,” said the man from behind his handkerchief. -“Yes, yes, Oswin, I'll leave the colony--I will--when I become a -teetotaller.” He took down his handkerchief, and put it into his pocket -with a hoarse laugh. “Come, my boy,” he said in his usual voice, “come; -we've had quite enough of that sort of bullying. Don't think you're -talking to a boy, Master Oswin. Who looks on a man as anything the worse -for getting drunk now and again? You don't; you can't afford to. How -often have I not helped you as you helped me? Tell me that.” - -“In the past--the accursed past,” said Oswin, “I may have made myself a -fool--yes, I did, but God knows that I have suffered for it. Now all is -changed. I was willing to tolerate you near me since we met this time, -hoping that you would think fit, when you were in a new place and -amongst new people, to change your way of life. But last night showed -me that I was mistaken. You can never be received at Colonel Gerald's -again.” - -“Indeed?” said the man. “You should break the news gently to a fellow. -You might have thrown me into a fit by coming down like that. Hark you -here, Mr. Markham. I know jolly well that I will be received there and -welcomed too. I'll be received everywhere as well as you, and hang me, -if I don't go everywhere. These people are my friends as well as yours. -I've done more for them than ever you did, and they know that.” - -“Fool, fool!” said Oswin bitterly. - -“We'll see who's the fool, my boy. I know my advantage, don't you be -afraid. The Irish king has a son, hasn't he? well, I was welcome with -him last night. The Lord Bishop of Calapash has another blooming male -offspring, and though he hasn't given me an invite to his dinner this -evening, yet, hang me, if he wouldn't hug me if I went with the rest of -you swells. Hang me, if I don't try it at any rate--it will be a lark at -least. Dine with a bishop--by heaven, sir, it would be a joke--I'll go, -oh, Lord, Lord!” Oswin stood motionless looking at him. “Yes,” continued -Despard, “I'll have a jolly hour with his lordship the bishop. I'll -fill up my glass as I did last night, and we'll drink the same toast -together--we'll drink to the health of the Snowdrop of Glenmara, as the -king called her when he was very drunk; we'll drink to the fair Daireen. -Hallo, keep your hands off!--Curse you, you're choking me! There!” - Oswin, before the girl's name had more than passed the man's lips, had -sprung forward and clutched him by the throat; only by a violent effort -was he cast off, and now both men stood trembling with passion face to -face. - -“What the deuce do you mean by this sort of treatment?” cried Despard. - -“Despard,” said Oswin slowly, “you know me a little, I think. I tell you -if you ever speak that name again in my presence you will repent it. You -know me from past experience, and I have not utterly changed.” - -The man looked at him with an expression that amounted to wonderment -upon his face. Then he threw himself back in his chair, and an -uncontrollable fit of laughter seized him. He lay back and almost yelled -with his insane laughter. When he had recovered himself and had wiped -the tears from his eyes, he saw Oswin was gone. And this fact threw him -into another convulsive fit. It was a long time before he was able to -straighten his collar and go to the bar for a glass of French brandy. - -The last half-hour had made Oswin Markham very pale. He had eaten no -breakfast, and he was reminded of this by the servant to whom he had -given directions to have his horse brought to the door. - -“No,” he said, “I have not eaten anything. Get the horse brought round -quickly, like a good fellow.” - -He stood erect in the doorway until he heard the sound of hoofs. Then -he went down the steps and mounted, turning his horse's head towards -Wynberg. He galloped along the red road at the base of the hill, and -only once he looked up, saying, “For the last time--the last.” - -He reached the avenue at Mowbray and dismounted, throwing the bridle -over his arm as he walked slowly between the rows of giant aloes. In -another moment he came in sight of the Dutch cottage. He paused under -one of the Australian oaks, and looked towards the house. “Oh, God, God, -pity me!” he cried in agony so intense that it could not relieve itself -by any movement or the least motion. - -He threw the bridle over a low branch and walked up to the house. His -step was heard. She stood before him in the hall--white and flushed in -turn as he went towards her. He was not flushed; he was still deadly -white. He had startled her, he knew, for the hand she gave him was -trembling like a dove's bosom. - -“Papa is gone part of the way back to Simon's Town with the commodore -who was with us this morning,” she said. “But you will come in and wait, -will you not?” - -“I cannot,” he said. “I cannot trust myself to go in--even to look at -you, Daireen.” - -“Oh, God!” she said, “you are ill--your face--your voice----” - -“I am not ill, Daireen. I have an hour of strength--such strength as is -given to men when they look at Death in the face and are not moved at -all. I kissed you last night----” - -“And you will now,” she said, clasping his arm tenderly. “Dearest, do -not speak so terribly--do not look so terrible--so like--ah, that night -when you looked up to me from the water.” - -“Daireen, why did I do that? Why did you pluck me from that death to -give me this agony of life--to give yourself all the bitterness that can -come to any soul? Daireen, I kissed you only once, and I can never kiss -you again. I cannot be false to you any longer after having touched -your pure spirit. I have been false to you--false, not by my will--but -because to me God denied what He gave to others--others to whom His gift -was an agony--that divine power to begin life anew. My past still clings -to me, Daireen--it is not past--it is about and around me still--it is -the gulf that separates us, Daireen.” - -“Separates us?” she said blankly, looking at him. - -“Separates us,” he repeated, “as heaven and hell are separated. We have -been the toys--the playthings, of Fate. If you had not looked out of -your cabin that night, we should both be happy now. And then how was -it we came to love each other and to know it to be love? I struggled -against it, but I was as a feather upon the wind. Ah, God has given us -this agony of love, for I am here to look on you for the last time--to -beseech of you to hate me, and to go away knowing that you love me.” - -“No, no, not to go away--anything but that. Tell me all--I can forgive -all.” - -“I cannot bring my lips to frame my curse,” he said after a little -pause. “But you shall hear it, and, Daireen, pity me as you pitied me -when I looked to God for hope and found none. Child--give me your eyes -for the last time.” - -She held him clasped with her white hands, and he saw that her passion -made her incapable of understanding his words. She looked up to him -whispering, “The last time--no, no--not the last time--not the last.” - -She was in his arms. He looked down upon her face, but he did not kiss -it. He clenched his teeth as he unwound her arms from him. - -“One word may undo the curse that I have bound about your life,” - he said. “Take the word, Daireen--the blessed word for you and -me--_Forget_. Take it--it is my last blessing.” - -She was standing before him. She saw his face there, and she gave a -cry, covering her own face with her hands, for the face she saw was that -which had looked up to her from the black waters. - -Was he gone? - -From the river bank came the sounds of the native women, from the -garden the hum of insects, and from the road the echo of a horse's hoofs -passing gradually away. - -Was it a dream--not only this scene of broad motionless leaves, and -these sounds she heard, but all the past months of her life? - -Hours went by leaving her motionless in that seat, and then came the -sound of a horse--she sprang up. He was returning--it was a dream that -had given her this agony of parting. - -“Daireen, child, what is the matter?” asked her father, whose horse it -was she had heard. - -She looked up to his face. - -“Papa,” she said very gently, “it is over--all--all over--for ever--I -have only you now.” - -“My dear little Dolly, tell me all that troubles you.” - -“Nothing troubles me now, papa. I have you near me, and I do not mind -anything else.” - -“Tell me all, Daireen.” - -“I thought I loved some one else, papa--Oswin--Oswin Markham. But he is -gone now, and I know you are with me. You will always be with me.” - -“My poor little Dolly,” said Colonel Gerald, “did he tell you that he -loved you?” - -“He did, papa; but you must ask me no more. I shall never see him -again!” - -“Perfectly charming!” said Mrs. Crawford, standing at the door. “The -prettiest picture I have seen for a long time--father and daughter in -each other's arms. But, my dear George, are you not yet dressed for the -bishop's dinner? Daireen, my child, did you not say you would be ready -when I would call for you? I am quite disappointed, and I would be angry -only you look perfectly lovely this evening--like a beautiful lily. The -dear bishop will be so charmed, for you are one of his favourites. Now -do make haste, and I entreat of you to be particular with your shades of -gray.” - - - - -CHAPTER XL. - - - ... A list of... resolutes - - For food and diet, to some enterprise - - That hath a stomach in't. - - My news shall be the fruit to that great feast. - - Why, let the stricken deer go weep, - - The hart ungalléd play; - - For some must watch, while some must sleep; - - Thus runs the world away.--_Hamlet_. - - -|THE Bishop of the Calapash Islands and Metropolitan of the Salamander -Archipelago was smiling very tranquilly upon his guests as they arrived -at his house, which was about two miles from Mowbray. But the son of the -bishop was not smiling--he, in fact, seldom smiled; there was a certain -breadth of expression associated with such a manifestation of feeling -that was inconsistent with his ideas of subtlety of suggestion. He was -now endeavouring to place his father's guests at ease by looking only -slightly bored by their presence, giving them to understand that he -would endure them around him for his father's sake, so that there should -be no need for them to be at all anxious on his account. A dinnerparty -in a colony was hardly that sort of social demonstration which Mr. -Glaston would be inclined to look forward to with any intensity of -feeling; but the bishop, having a number of friends at the Cape, -including a lady who was capable of imparting some very excellent advice -on many social matters, had felt it to be a necessity to give this -little dinnerparty, and his son had only offered such a protest against -it as satisfied his own conscience and prevented the possibility of his -being consumed for days after with a gnawing remorse. - -The bishop had his own ideas of entertaining his guests--a matter which -his son brought under his consideration after the invitations had been -issued. - -“There is not such a thing as a rising tenor in the colony, I am sure,” - said Mr. Glaston, whose experience of perfect social entertainment was -limited to that afforded by London drawing-rooms. “If we had a rising -tenor, there would be no difficulty about these people.” - -“Ah, no, I suppose not,” said the bishop. “But I was thinking, Algernon, -that if you would allow your pictures to be hung for the evening, and -explain them, you know, it would be interesting.” - -“What, by lamplight? They are not drop-scenes of a theatre, let me -remind you.” - -“No, no; but you see your theories of explanation would be understood -by our good friends as well by lamplight as by daylight, and I am sure -every one would be greatly interested.” Mr. Glaston promised his father -to think over the matter, and his father expressed his gratitude for -this concession. “And as for myself,” continued the bishop, giving his -hands the least little rub together, “I would suggest reading a -few notes on a most important subject, to which I have devoted some -attention lately. My notes I would propose heading 'Observations on -Phenomena of Automatic Cerebration amongst some of the Cannibal Tribes -of the Salamander Archipelago.' I have some excellent specimens of -skulls illustrative of the subject.” - -Mr. Glaston looked at his father for a considerable time without -speaking; at last he said quietly, “I think I had better show my -pictures.” - -“And my paper--my notes?” - -“Impossible,” said the young man, rising. “Utterly Impossible;” and he -left the room. - -The bishop felt slightly hurt by his son's manner. He had treasured up -his notes on the important observations he had made in an interesting -part of his diocese, and he had looked forward with anxiety to a moment -when he could reveal the result of his labours to the world, and yet his -son had, when the opportunity presented itself, declared the revelation -impossible. The bishop felt slightly hurt. - -Now, however, he had got over his grievance, and he was able to smile as -usual upon each of his guests. - -The dinner-party was small and select. There were two judges present, -one of whom brought his wife and a daughter. Then there were two members -of the Legislative Council, one with a son, the other with a daughter; -a clergyman who had attained to the dizzy ecclesiastical eminence of -a colonial deanery, and his partner in the dignity of his office. The -Macnamara and Standish were there, and Mr. Harwood, together with the -Army Boot Commissioner and Mrs. Crawford, the last of whom arrived with -Colonel Gerald and Daireen. - -Mrs. Crawford had been right. The bishop was charmed with Daireen, and -so expressed himself while he took her hand in his and gave her the -benediction of a smile. Poor Standish, seeing her so lovely as she was -standing there, felt his soul full of love and devotion. What was all -the rest of the world compared with her, he thought; the aggregate -beauty of the universe, including the loveliness of the Miss Van der -Veldt who was in the drawing-room, was insignificant by the side of a -single curl of Daireen's wonderful hair. Mr. Harwood looked towards -her also, but his thoughts were somewhat more complicated than those of -Standish. - -“Is not Daireen perfection?” whispered Mrs. Crawford to Algernon -Glaston. - -The bishop's son glanced at the girl critically. - -“I cannot understand that band of black velvet with a pearl in front of -it,” he said. “I feel it to be a mistake--yes, it is an error for which -I am sorry; I begin to fear it was designed only as a bold contrast. It -is sad--very sad.” - -Mrs. Crawford was chilled. She had never seen Daireen look so lovely. -She felt for more than a moment that she was all unmeet for a wife, so -child-like she seemed. And now the terrible thought suggested itself to -Mrs. Crawford: what if Mr. Glaston's opinion was, after all, fallible? -might it be possible that his judgment could be in error? The very -suggestion of such a thought sent a cold thrill of fear through her. No, -no: she would not admit such a possibility. - -The dinner was proceeded with, after the fashion of most dinners, in a -highly satisfactory manner. The guests were arranged with discrimination -in accordance with a programme of Mrs. Crawford's, and the conversation -was unlimited. - -Much to the dissatisfaction of The Macnamara the men went to the -drawing-room before they had remained more than ten minutes over their -claret. One of the young ladies of the colony had been induced to sing -with the judge's son a certain duet called “La ci darem la mano;” and -this was felt to be extremely agreeable by every one except the bishop's -son. The bishop thanked the young lady very much, and then resumed his -explanation to a group of his guests of the uses of some implements -of war and agriculture brought from the tribes of the Salamander -Archipelago. - -Three of the pictures of Mr. Glaston's collection were hung in the room, -the most important being that marvellous Aholibah: it was placed upon a -small easel at the farthest end of the room, a lamp being at each side. -A group had gathered round the picture, and Mr. Glaston with the utmost -goodnature repeated the story of its creation. Daireen had glanced -towards the picture, and again that little shudder came over her. - -She was sitting in the centre of the room upon an ottoman beside Mrs. -Crawford and Mr. Harwood. Standish was in a group at the lower end, -while his father was demonstrating how infinitely superior were the -weapons found in the bogs of Ireland to the Salamander specimens. The -bishop moved gently over to Daireen and explained to her the pleasure -it would be giving every one in the room if she would consent to sing -something. - -At once Daireen rose and went to the piano. A song came to her lips as -she laid her hand upon the keys of the instrument, and her pure earnest -voice sang the words that came back to her:-- - - From my life the light has waned: - - Every golden gleam that shone - - Through the dimness now has gone: - - Of all joys has one remained? - - Stays one gladness I have known? - - Day is past; I stand, alone, - - Here beneath these darkened skies, - - Asking--“Doth a star arise?” - -She ended with a passion that touched every one who heard her, and then -there was a silence for some moments, before the door of the room was -pushed open to the wall, and a voice said, “Bravo, my dear, bravo!” in -no weak tones. - -All eyes turned towards the door. Mr. Despard entered, wearing an -ill-made dress-suit, with an enormous display of shirt-front, big studs, -and a large rose in his button-hole. - -“I stayed outside till the song was over,” he said. “Bless your souls, -I've got a feeling for music, and hang me if I've heard anything that -could lick that tune.” Then he nodded confidentially to the bishop. -“What do you say, Bishop? What do you say, King? am I right or wrong? -Why, we're all here--all of our set--the colonel too--how are you, -Colonel?--and the editor--how we all do manage to meet somehow! Birds of -a feather--you know. Make yourselves at home, don't mind me.” - -He walked slowly up the room smiling rather more broadly than the bishop -was in the habit of doing, on all sides. He did not stop until he was -opposite the picture of Aholibah on the easel. Here he did stop. He -seemed to be even more appreciative of pictorial art than of musical. He -bent forward, gazing into that picture, regardless of the embarrassing -silence there was in the room while every one looked towards him. He -could not see how all eyes were turned upon him, so absorbed had he -become before that picture. - -The bishop was now certainly not smiling. He walked slowly to the man's -side. - -“Sir,” said the bishop, “you have chosen an inopportune time for a -visit. I must beg of you to retire.” - -Then the man seemed to be recalled to consciousness. He glanced up from -the picture and looked into the bishop's face. He pointed with one hand -to the picture, and then threw himself back in a chair with a roar of -laughter. - -“By heavens, this is a bigger surprise than seeing Oswin himself,” he -cried. “Where is Oswin?--not here?--he should be here--he must see it.” - -It was Harwood's voice that said, “What do you mean?” - -“Mean, Mr. Editor?” said Despard. “Mean? Haven't I told you what I mean? -By heavens, I forgot that I was at the Cape--I thought I was still -in Melbourne! Good, by Jingo, and all through looking at that bit of -paint!” - -“Explain yourself, sir?” said Harwood. - -“Explain?” said the man. “That there explains itself. Look at that -picture. The woman in that picture is Oswin Markham's wife, the Italian -he brought to Australia, where he left her. That's plain enough. A -deucedly fine woman she is, though they never did get on together. -Hallo! What's the matter with Missy there? My God! she's going to -faint.” - -But Daireen Gerald did not faint. Her father had his arm about her. - -“Papa,” she whispered faintly,--“Papa, take me home.” - -“My darling,” said Colonel Gerald. “Do not look like that. For God's -sake, Daireen, don't look like that.” They were standing outside waiting -for the carriage to come up; for Daireen had walked from the room -without faltering. - -“Do not mind me,” she said. “I am strong--yes--very--very strong.” - -He lifted her into the carriage, and was at the point of entering -himself, when the figure of Mrs. Crawford appeared among the palm -plants. - -“Good heavens, George! what is the meaning of this?” she said in a -whisper. - -“Go back!” cried Colonel Gerald sternly. “Go back! This is some more of -your work. You shall never see my child again!” - -He stepped into the carriage. The major's wife was left standing in the -porch thunderstruck at such a reproach coming from the colonel. Was this -the reward of her labour--to stand among the palms, listening to the -passing away of the carriage wheels? - -It was not until the Dutch cottage had been reached that Daireen, in the -darkness of the room, laid her head upon her father's shoulder. - -“Papa,” she whispered again, “take me home--let us go home together.” - -“My darling, you are at home now.” - -“No, papa, I don't mean that; I mean home--I home--Glenmara.” - -“I will, Daireen: we shall go away from here. We shall be happy together -in the old house.” - -“Yes,” she said. “Happy--happy.” - -“What do you mean, sir?” said the _maître d'hôtel_, referring to a -question put to him by Despard, who had been brought away from the -bishop's house by Harwood in a diplomatically friendly manner. “What do -you mean? Didn't Mr. Markham tell you he was going?” - -“Going--where?” said Harwood. - -“To Natal, sir? I felt sure that he had told you, though he didn't speak -to us. Yes, he left in the steamer for Natal two hours ago.” - -“Squaring everything?” asked Despard. - -“Sir!” said the _maître_; “Mr. Markham was a gentleman.” - -“It was half a sovereign he gave you then,” remarked Despard. Then -turning to Harwood, he said: “Well, Mr. Editor, this is the end of all, -I fancy. We can't expect much after this. He's gone now, and I'm -infernally sorry for him, for Oswin was a good sort. By heavens, didn't -I burst in on the bishop's party like a greased shrapnel? I had taken -a little better than a glass of brandy before I went there, so I was in -good form. Yes, Paulina is the name of his wife. He had picked her up -in Italy or thereabouts. That's what made his friends send him off to -Australia. He was punished for his sins, for that woman made his life a -hell to him. Now we'll take the tinsel off a bottle of Moët together.” - -“No,” said Harwood; “not to-night.” - -He left the room and went upstairs, for now indeed this psychological -analyst had an intricate problem to work out. It was a long time before -he was able to sleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI. - - -CONCLUSION. - - - What is it you would see? - - If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search. - -***** - - And let me speak to the yet unknowing world - - How these things came about: so shall you hear - - Of accidental judgments... - - purposes mistook. - - ... let this same be presently performed - - ... lest more mischance - - On plots and errors happen.--_Hamlet._ - - -|LITTLE more remains to be told to complete the story of the few months -of the lives of the people whose names have appeared in these pages in -illustration of how hardly things go right. - -Upon that night, after the bishop's little dinnerparty, every one, -except Mr. Despard, seemed to have a bitter consciousness of how -terribly astray things had gone. It seemed hopeless to think that -anything could possibly be made right again. If Mrs. Crawford had not -been a pious woman and a Christian, she would have been inclined to say -that the Fates, which had busied themselves with the disarrangement of -her own carefully constructed plans, had become inebriated with their -success and were wantoning in the confusion of the mortals who had been -their playthings. Should any one have ventured to interpret her thoughts -after this fashion, however, Mrs. Crawford would have been indignant -and would have assured her accuser that her only thought was how hardly -things go right. And perhaps, indeed, the sum of her thoughts could not -have been expressed by words of fuller meaning. - -She had been careful beyond all her previous carefulness that her plans -for the future of Daireen Gerald should be arranged so as to insure -their success; and yet, what was the result of days of thoughtfulness -and unwearying toil, she asked herself as she was driving homeward under -the heavy oak branches amongst which a million fire-flies were flitting. -This feeling of defeat--nay, even of shame, for the words Colonel -Gerald had spoken to her in his bitterness of spirit were still in her -mind--was this the result of her care, her watchfulness, her skill of -organisation? Truly Mrs. Crawford felt that she had reason for thinking -herself ill-treated. - -“Major,” she said solemnly to the Army Boot Commissioner as he partook -of some simple refreshment in the way of brandy and water before -retiring for the night--“Major, listen to me while I tell you that I -wash my hands clear of these people. Daireen Gerald has disappointed me; -she has made a fool both of herself and of me; and George Gerald grossly -insulted me.” - -“Did he really now?” said the major compassionately, as he added another -thimbleful of the contents of the bottle to his tumbler. “Upon my soul -it was too bad of George--a devilish deal too bad of him.” Here the -major emptied his tumbler. He was feeling bitterly the wrong done to his -wife as he yawned and searched in the dimness for a cheroot. - -“I wash my hands clear of them all,” continued the lady. “The bishop is -a poor thing to allow himself to be led by that son of his, and the son -is a----” - -“For God's sake take care, Kate; a bishop, you know, is not like the -rest of the people.” - -“He is a weak thing, I say,” continued Mrs. Crawford firmly. “And his -son is--a--puppy. But I have done with them.” - -“And _for_ them,” said the major, striking a light. - -Thus it was that Mrs. Crawford relieved her pent-up feelings as she went -to her bed; but in spite of the disappointment Daireen had caused her, -and the gross insult she had received from Daireen's father, before she -went to sleep she had asked herself if it might not be well to forgive -George Gerald and to beg of him to show some additional attention to Mr. -Harwood, who was, all things considered, a most deserving man, besides -being a distinguished person and a clever. Yes, she thought that this -would be a prudent step for Colonel Gerald to take at once. If Daireen -had made a mistake, it was sad, to be sure, but there was no reason -why it might not be retrieved, Mrs. Crawford felt; and she fell asleep -without any wrath in her heart against her old friend George Gerald. - -And Arthur Harwood, as he stood in his room at the hotel and looked out -to the water of Table Bay, had the truth very strongly forced upon him -that things had gone far wrong indeed, and with a facility of error -that was terrifying. He felt that he alone could fully appreciate how -terribly astray everything had gone. He saw in a single glance all of -the past; and his scrupulously just conscience did not fail to give him -credit for having at least surmised something of the truth that had -just been brought to light. From the first--even before he had seen -the man--he had suspected Oswin Markham; and, subsequently, had he not -perceived--or at any rate fancied that he perceived--something of the -feeling that existed between Markham and Daireen? - -His conscience gave him ample credit for his perception; but after all, -this was an unsatisfactory set-off against the weight of his reflections -on the subject of the general error of affairs that concerned him -closely, not the least of which was the unreasonable conduct of the -Zulu monarch who had rejected the British ultimatum, and who thus -necessitated the presence of a special correspondent in his dominions. -Harwood, seeing the position of everything at a glance, had come to the -conclusion that it would be impossible for him, until some months had -passed, to tell Daireen all that he believed was in his heart. He knew -that she had loved that man whom she had saved from death, and who had -rewarded her by behaving as a ruffian towards her; still Mr. Harwood, -like Mrs. Crawford, felt that her mistake was not irretrievable. But if -he himself were now compelled by the conduct of this wretched savage -to leave Cape Town for an indefinite period, how should he have an -opportunity of pointing out to Daireen the direction in which her -happiness lay? Mr. Harwood was not generously disposed towards the Zulu -monarch. - -Upon descending to the coffee-room in the morning, he found Mr. Despard -sitting somewhat moodily at the table. Harwood was beginning to think, -now that Mr. Despard's mission in life had been performed, there could -be no reason why his companionship should be sought. But Mr. Despard -was not at all disposed to allow his rapidly conceived friendship for -Harwood to be cut short. - -“Hallo, Mr. Editor, you're down at last, are you?” he cried. “The -colonel didn't go up to, your room, you bet, though he did to me--fine -old boy is he, by my soul--plenty of good work in him yet.” - -“The colonel? Was Colonel Gerald here?” asked Harwood. - -“He was, Mr. Editor; he was here just to see me, and have a friendly -morning chat. We've taken to each other, has the colonel and me.” - -“He heard that Markham had gone? You told him, no doubt?” - -“Mr. Editor, sir,” said Despard, rising to his feet and keeping himself -comparatively steady by grasping the edge of the table,--“Mr. Editor, -there are things too sacred to be divulged even to the Press. There are -feelings--emotions--chords of the human heart--you know all that sort -of thing--the bond of friendship between the colonel and me is something -like that. What I told him will never be divulged while I'm sober. Oswin -had his faults, no doubt, but for that matter I have mine. Which of us -is perfect, Mr. Editor? Why, here's this innocent-looking lad that's -coming to me with another bottle of old Irish, hang me if he isn't a -walking receptacle of bribery and corruption! What, are you off?” - -Mr. Harwood was off, nor did he think if necessary to go through the -formality of shaking hands with the moraliser at the table. - -It was on the day following that Mrs. Crawford called at Colonel -Gerald's cottage at Mowbray. She gave a start when she saw that the -little hall was blocked up with packing-cases. One of them was an old -military camp-box, and upon the end of it was painted in dimly white -letters the name “Lieutenant George Gerald.” Seeing it now as she had -often seen it in the days at the Indian station, the poor old campaigner -sat down on a tin uniform-case and burst into tears. - -“Kate, dear good Kate,” said Colonel Gerald, laying his hand on her -shoulder. “What is the matter, my dear girl?” - -“Oh, George, George!” sobbed the lady, “look at that case there--look at -it, and think of the words you spoke to me two nights ago. Oh, George, -George!” - -“God forgive me, Kate, I was unjust--ungenerous. Oh, Kate, you do not -know how I had lost myself as the bitter truth was forced upon me. You -have forgiven me long ago, have you not?” - -“I have, George,” she said, putting her hand in his. “God knows I have -forgiven you. But what is the meaning of this? You are not going away, -surely?” - -“We leave by the mail to-morrow, Kate,” said the colonel. - -“Good gracious, is it so bad as that?” asked the lady, alarmed. - -“Bad? there is nothing bad now, my dear. We only feel--Dolly and -myself--that we must have a few months together amongst our native Irish -mountains before we set out for the distant Castaways.” - -Mrs. Crawford looked into his face earnestly for some moments. “Poor -darling little Dolly,” she said in a voice full of compassion; “she has -met with a great grief, but I pray that all may yet be well. I will -not see her now, but I will say farewell to her aboard the steamer -to-morrow. Give her my love, George. God knows how dear she is to me.” - -Colonel Gerald put his arms about his old friend and kissed her -silently. - -Upon the afternoon of the next day the crowd about the stern of the mail -steamer which was at the point of leaving for England was very large. -But it is only necessary to refer to a few of the groups on the deck. -Colonel Gerald and his old friend Major Crawford were side by side, -while Daireen and the major's wife were standing apart looking together -up to the curved slopes of the tawny Lion's Head that half hid the dark, -flat face of Table Mountain. Daireen was pale almost to whiteness, and -as her considerate friend said some agreeable words to her she smiled -faintly, but the observant Standish felt that her smile was not real, -it was only a phantom of the smiles of the past which had lived upon her -face. Standish was beside his father, who had been so fortunate as to -obtain the attention of Mr. Harwood for the story of the wrongs he had -suffered through the sale of his property in Ireland. - -“What is there left for me in the counthry of my sires that bled?” - he inquired with an emphasis that almost amounted to passion. “The -sthrangers that have torn the land away from us thrample us into the -dust. No, sir, I'll never return to be thrampled upon; I'll go with my -son to the land of our exile--the distant Castaway isles, where the -flag of freedom may yet burn as a beacon above the thunderclouds of our -enemies. Return to the land that has been torn from us? Never.” - -Standish, who could have given a very good guess as to the number of -The Macnamara's creditors awaiting his return with anxiety, if not -impatience, moved away quickly, and Daireen noticed his action. She -whispered a word to Mrs. Crawford, and in another instant she and -Standish were together. She gave him her hand, and each looked into the -other's face speechlessly for a few moments. On her face there was a -faint tender smile, but his was full of passionate entreaty, the force -of which made his eyes tremulous. - -“Standish, dear old Standish,” she said; “you alone seem good and noble -and true. You will not forget all the happy days we have had together.” - -“Forget them?” said Standish. “Oh, Daireen, if you could but know -all--if you could but know how I think of every day we have passed -together. What else is there in the world worth thinking about? Oh, -Daireen, you know that I have always thought of you only--that I will -always think of you.” - -“Not yet, Standish,” she whispered. “Do not say anything to me--no, -nothing--yet. But you will write every week, and tell me how the -Castaway people are getting on, until we come out to you at the -islands.” - -“Daireen, do all the days we have passed together at home--on the -lough--on the mountain, go for nothing?” he cried almost sadly. “Oh, my -darling, surely we cannot part in this way. Your life is not wrecked.” - -“No, no, not wrecked,” she said with a start, and he knew she was -struggling to be strong. - -“You will be happy, Daireen, you will indeed, after a while. And you -will give me a word of hope now--one little word to make me happy.” - -She looked at him--tearfully--lovingly. “Dear Standish, I can only give -you one word. Will it comfort you at all if I say _Hope_, Standish?” - -“My darling, my love! I knew it would come right in the end. The world I -knew could not be so utterly forsaken by God but that everything should -come right.” - -“It is only one word I have given you,” she said. - -“But what a word, Daireen! oh, the dearest and best word I ever heard -breathed. God bless you, darling! God bless you!” - -He did not make any attempt to kiss her: he only held her white hand -tightly for an instant and looked into her pure, loving eyes. - -“Now, my boy, good-bye,” said Colonel Gerald, laying his hand upon -Standish's shoulder. “You will leave next week for the Castaways, and -you will, I know, be careful to obey to the letter the directions of -those in command until I come out to you. You must write a complete -diary, as I told you--ah, there goes the gun! Daireen, here is Mr. -Harwood waiting to shake hands with you.” - -Mr. Harwood's hand was soon in the girl's. - -“Good-bye, Miss Gerald. I trust you will sometimes give me a thought,” - he said quietly. - -“I shall never forget you, Mr. Harwood,” she said as she returned his -grasp. - -In another instant, as it seemed to the group on the shore, the good -steamer passing out of the bay had dwindled down to that white piece of -linen which a little hand waved over the stern. - -“Mr. Harwood,” said Mrs. Crawford, as the special correspondent brought -the major's wife to a wagonette,--“Mr. Harwood, I fear we have been -terribly wrong. But indeed all the wrong was not mine. You, I know, will -not blame me.” - -“I blame you, Mrs. Crawford? Do not think of such a thing,” said -Harwood. “No; no one is to blame. Fate was too much for both of us, Mrs. -Crawford. But all is over now. All the past days with her near us are -now no more than pleasant memories. I go round to Natal in two days, and -then to my work in the camp.” - -“Oh, Mr. Harwood, what ruffians there are in this world!” said the lady -just before they parted. Mr. Harwood smiled his acquiescence. His own -experience in the world had led him to arrive unassisted at a similar -conclusion. - -Arthur Harwood kept his work and left by the steamer for Natal two -days afterwards; and in the same steamer Mr. Despard took passage -also, declaring his intention to enlist on the side of the Zulus. -Upon reaching Algoa Bay, however, he went ashore and did not put in an -appearance at the departure of the steamer from the port; so that Mr. -Harwood was deprived of his companionship, which had hitherto been -pretty close, but which promised to become even more so. As there was in -the harbour a small vessel about to proceed to Australia, the anxiety of -the special correspondent regarding the future of the man never reached -a point of embarrassment. - -The next week Standish Macnamara, accompanied by his father, left for -the Castaway Islands, where he was to take up his position as secretary -to the new governor of the sunny group. Standish was full of eagerness -to begin his career of hard and noble work in the world. He felt that -there would be a large field for the exercise of his abilities in the -Castaways, and with the word that Daireen had given him living in his -heart to inspire all his actions, he felt that there was nothing too -hard for him to accomplish, even to compelling his father to return to -Ireland before six months should have passed. - -It was on a cool afternoon towards the end of this week, that Mrs. -Crawford was walking under the trees in the gardens opposite Government -House, when she heard a pleasant little musical laugh behind her, -accompanied by the pat of dainty little high-heeled shoes. - -“Dear, good Mrs. Crawford, why will you walk so terribly fast? It quite -took away the breath of poor little me to follow you,” came the voice of -Lottie Vincent Mrs. Crawford turned, and as she was with a friend, she -could not avoid allowing her stout hand to be touched by one of Lottie's -ten-buttoned gloves. “Ah, you are surprised to see me,” continued the -young lady. “I am surprised myself to find myself here, but papa would -not hear of my remaining at Natal when he went on to the frontier with -the regiment, so I am staying with a friend in Cape Town. Algernon is -here, but the dear boy is distressed by the number of people. Poor Algy -is so sensitive.” - -“Poor who?” cried Mrs. Crawford. - -“Oh, good gracious, what have I said?” exclaimed the artless little -thing, blushing very prettily, and appearing as tremulous as a fluttered -dove. “Ah, my dear Mrs. Crawford, I never thought of concealing it -from you for a moment. I meant to tell you the first of any one in the -world--I did indeed.” - -“To tell me what?” asked the major's wife sternly. - -“Surely you know that the dear good bishop has given his consent -to--to--do help me out of my difficulty of explaining, Mrs. Crawford.” - -“To your becoming the wife of his son?” - -“I knew you would not ask me to say it all so terribly plainly,” said -Lottie. “Ah yes, dear Algy was too importunate for poor little me to -resist; I pitied him and promised to become his for ever. We are -devoted to each other, for there is no bond so fast as that of artistic -sympathy, Mrs. Crawford. I meant to write and thank you for your dear -good-natured influence, which, I know, brought about his proposal. It -was all due, I frankly acknowledge, to your kindness in bringing us -together upon the day of that delightful lunch we had at the grove -of silver leaves. How can I ever thank you? But there is darling Algy -looking quite bored. I must rush to him,” she continued, as she saw Mrs. -Crawford about to speak. Lottie did not think it prudent to run the -risk of hearing Mrs. Crawford refer to certain little Indian affairs -connected with Lottie's residence at that agreeable station on the -Himalayas; so she kissed the tips of her gloves, and tripped away to -where Mr. Algernon Glaston was sitting on one of the garden seats. - -“She is a wicked girl,” said Mrs. Crawford to her companion. “She has -at last succeeded in finding some one foolish enough to be entrapped by -her. Never mind, she has conquered--I admit that. Oh, this world, this -world!” - -And there can hardly be a doubt that Miss Lottie Vincent, all things -considered, might be said to have conquered. She was engaged to marry -Algernon Glaston, the son of the Bishop of the Calapash Islands and -Metropolitan of the Salamander Group, and this to Lottie meant conquest. - -Of Oswin Markham only a few words need be spoken to close this story, -such as it is. Oswin Markham was once more seen by Harwood. Two months -after the outbreak of the war the special correspondent, in the -exercise of his duty, was one night riding by the Tugela, where a fierce -engagement had taken place between the Zulus and the British troops. -The dead, black and white, were lying together--assagai and rifle -intermixed. Harwood looked at the white upturned faces of the dead men -that the moonlight made more ghastly, and amongst those faces he saw the -stern clear-cut features of Oswin Markham. He was in the uniform of a -Natal volunteer. Harwood gave a start, but only one; he stood above the -dead man for a long time, lost in his own thoughts. Then the pioneers, -who were burying the dead, came up. - -“Poor wretch, poor wretch!” he said slowly, standing there in the -moonlight. “Poor wretch!... If she had never seen him... if... 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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 -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Daireen - Volume 2 of 2 - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51937] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAIREEN *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - -DAIREEN - -Volume 2 of 2 - -By Frank Frankfort Moore - - -(Transcriber's Note: Chapters XX to XXIV were taken from a print -copy of a different edition as these chapters were missing from the 1889 -print edition from which the rest of the Project Gutenberg edition was -taken. In the inserted four chapters it will be noted that the normal -double quotation marks were printed as single quote marks.) - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - - -```I have heard of your paintings too.= - -``_Hamlet_. His form and cause conjoined, preaching to stones, - -```Would make them capable. Do not look upon me, - -```Lest... what I have to do - -```Will want true colour.... - -````Do you see nothing there?= - -``_Queen_. No, nothing but ourselves.= - -``_Hamlet_. Why, look you there... - -```Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal. - -`````_Hamlet._= - - -|I AM so glad to be beside some one who can tell me all I want to know' -said Lottie, looking up to Colonel Gerald's bronzed face when Mrs. -Crawford and Markham had walked on. - -'My dear Lottie, you know very well that you know as much as I do,' he -answered, smiling down at her. - -'Oh, Colonel Gerald, how can you say such a thing?' she cried -innocently. 'You know I am always getting into scrapes through my -simplicity.' - -'You have managed to get out of a good many in your time, my dear. Is it -by the same means you got out of them, Lottie-your simplicity?' - -'Oh, you are as amusing as ever,' laughed the young thing. 'But you must -not be hard upon poor little me, now that I want to ask you so much. -Will you tell me, like a dear good colonel--I know you can if you -choose--what is the mystery about this Mr. Markham?' - -'Mystery? I don't hear of any mystery about him.' - -'Why, all your friends came out in the some steamer as he did. They must -have told you. Everybody here is talking about him. That's why I want -him for our theatricals: everyone will come to see him.' - -'Well, if the mystery, whatever it may be, remains unrevealed up to the -night of the performance, you will have a house all the more crowded.' - -'But I want to know all about it for myself. Is it really true that he -had fallen overboard from another ship, and was picked up after being -several weeks at sea?' - -'You would be justified in calling that a mystery, at any rate,' said -Colonel Gerald. - -'That is what some people here are saying, I can assure you,' she cried -quickly. 'Others say that he was merely taken aboard the steamer at St. -Helena, after having been wrecked; but that is far too unromantic.' - -'Oh, yes, far too unromantic.' - -'Then you do know the truth? Oh, please tell it to me. I have always -said I was sure it was true that a girl on the steamer saw him floating -on the horizon with an unusually powerful pilot-glass.' - -'Rather mysterious for a fellow to be floating about on the horizon with -a pilot-glass, Lottie.' - -'What a shame to make fun of me, especially as our performance is in -the cause of charity, and I want Mr. Markham's name to be the particular -attraction! Do tell me if he was picked up at sea.' - -'I believe he was.' - -'How really lovely! Floating about on a wreck and only restored after -great difficulty! Our room should be filled to the doors. But what I -can't understand, Colonel Gerald, is where he gets the money he lives -on here. He could not have had much with him when he was picked up. But -people say he is very rich.' - -'Then no doubt people have been well informed, my dear. But all I know -is that this Mr. Markham was on his way from New Zealand, or perhaps -Australia, and his vessel having foundered, he was picked up by the -"Cardwell Castle" and brought to the Cape. He had a note for a few -hundred pounds in his pocket which he told me he got cashed here without -any difficulty, and he is going to England in a short time. Here we are -at the room where these pictures are said to be hanging. Be sure you -keep up the mystery, Lottie.' - -'Ah, you have had your little chat, I hope,' said Mrs. Crawford, waiting -at the door of Government House until Colonel Gerald and Lottie had come -up. - -'A delightful little chat, as all mine with Colonel Gerald are,' said -Lottie, passing over to Mr. Markham. 'Are you going inside to see the -pictures, Mrs. Crawford?' - -'Not just yet, my dear; we must find Miss Gerald,' said Mrs. Crawford, -who had no particular wish to remain in close attachment to Miss Vincent -for the rest of the evening. - -'Mr. Markham and I are going in,' said Lottie. 'I do so dote upon -pictures, and Mr. Markham can explain them I know; so _au revoir_.' - -She kissed the dainty tips of her gloves and passed up to the small -piazza at the House, near where Major Crawford and some of the old -Indians were sitting drinking their brandy and soda and revolving many -memories. - -'Let us not go in for a while, Mr. Markham,' she said. 'Let us stay here -and watch them all. Isn't it delightfully cool here? How tell me all -that that dreadful old Mrs. Crawford was saying to you about me.' - -'Upon my word,' said Markham smiling, 'it _is_ delightfully cool up -here.' - -'I know she said ever so much; she does so about everyone who has at any -time run against her and her designs. She's always designing.' - -'And you ran against her, you think?' - -'Of course I did,' cried Lottie, turning round and giving an almost -indignant look at the man beside her. 'And she has been saying nasty -things about me ever since; only of course they have never injured me, -as people get to understand her in a very short time. But what did she -say just now?' - -'Nothing, I can assure you, that was not very much in favour of the -theatrical idea I have just promised to work out with you, Miss Vincent: -she told me you were a--a capital actress.' - -'She said that, did she? Spiteful old creature! Just see how she is all -smiles and friendliness to Mr. Harwood because she thinks he will say -something about her husband's appointment and the satisfaction it is -giving in the colony in his next letter to the "Trumpeter." That is -Colonel Gerald's daughter with them now, is it not?' - -'Yes, that is Miss Gerald,' answered Markham, looking across the lawn -to where Daireen was standing with Mr. Harwood and some of the -tennis-players as Mrs. Crawford and her companion came up with Mr. -Glaston, whom they had discovered and of whom the lady had taken -possession. The girl was standing beneath the broad leaf of a plantain -with the red sunlight falling behind her and lighting up the deep ravine -of the mountain beyond. Oswin thought he had never before seen her look -so girlishly lovely. - -'How people here do run after every novelty!' remarked Miss Vincent, who -was certainly aware that she herself was by no means a novelty. 'Just -because they never happen to have seen that girl before, they mob her -to death. Isn't it too bad? What extremes they go to in their delight at -having found something new! I actually heard a gentleman say to-day that -he thought Miss Geralds face perfect. Could anything be more absurd, -when one has only to see her complexion to know that it is extremely -defective, while her nose is--are you going in to the pictures so soon?' - -'Well, I think so,' said Markham. 'If we don't see them now it will be -too dark presently.' - -'Why, I had no idea you were such a devotee of Art,' she cried. 'Just -let me speak to papa for a moment and I will submit myself to your -guidance.' And she tripped away to where the surgeon-general was smoking -among the old Indians. - -Oswin Markham waited at the side of the balcony, and then Mrs. Crawford -with her entire party came up, Mr. Glaston following with Daireen, who -said, just as she was beside Mr. Markham, 'We are all going to view the -pictures, Mr. Markham; won't you join us?' - -'I am only waiting for Miss Vincent,' he answered. Then Daireen and her -companion passed into the room containing the four works meant to be -illustrative of that perfect conception of a subject, and of the only -true method of its treatment, which were the characteristics assigned -to themselves by a certain section of painters with whom Mr. Glaston -enjoyed communion. - -The pictures had, by Mr. Glaston's direction, been hung in what would -strike an uncultured mind as being an eccentric fashion. But, of course, -there was a method in it. Each painting was placed obliquely at a -window; the natural view which was to be obtained at a glance outside -being supposed to have a powerful influence upon the mind of a spectator -in preparing him to receive the delicate symbolism of each work. - -'One of our theories is, that a painting is not merely an imitation of -a part of nature, but that it becomes, if perfectly worked out in its -symbolism, a pure creation of Nature herself,' said Mr. Glaston airily, -as he condescended to explain his method of arrangement to his immediate -circle. There were only a few people in the room when Mrs. Crawford's -party entered. Mr. Glaston knew, of course, that Harwood was there, -but he felt that he could, with these pictures about him, defy all the -criticism of the opposing school. - -'It is a beautiful idea,' said Mrs. Crawford; 'is it not, Colonel -Gerald?' - -'Capital idea,' said the colonel. - -'Rubbish!' whispered Harwood to Markham, who entered at this moment with -Lottie Vincent. - -'The absurdity--the wickedness--of hanging pictures in the popular -fashion is apparent to every thoughtful mind,' said the prophet of Art. -'Putting pictures of different subjects in a row and asking the public -to admire them is something too terrible to think about. It is the act -of a nation of barbarians. To hold a concert and perform at the same -instant selections from Verdi, Wagner, Liszt, and the Oxford music-hall -would be as consistent with the principles of Art as these Gallery -exhibitions of pictures.' - -'How delightful!' cried Lottie, lifting up her four-buttoned gloves in -true enthusiasm. 'I have often thought exactly what he says, only I have -never had courage to express myself.' - -'It needs a good deal of courage,' remarked Harwood. - -'What a pity it is that people will continue to be stupid!' said Mrs. -Crawford. 'For my own part, I will never enter an Academy exhibition -again. I am ashamed to confess that I have never missed a season when I -had the chance, but now I see the folly of it all. What a lovely scene -that is in the small black frame! Is it not, Daireen?' - -'Ah, you perceive the Idea?' said Mr. Glaston as the girl and Mrs. -Crawford stood before a small picture of a man and a woman in a -pomegranate grove in a grey light, the man being in the act of plucking -the fruit. 'You understand, of course, the symbolism of the pomegranate -and the early dawn-light among the boughs?' - -'It is a darling picture,'said Lottie effusively. - -'I never saw such carelessness in drawing before,' said Harwood so soon -as Mr. Glaston and his friends had passed on to another work. - -'The colour is pretty fair, but the drawing is ruffianly.' - -'Ah, you terrible critic!' cried Lottie. - -'You spoil one's enjoyment of the pictures. But I quite agree with you; -they are fearful daubs,' she added in a whisper. 'Let us stay here and -listen to the gushing of that absurd old woman; we need not be in the -back row in looking at that wonderful work they are crowding about.' - -'I am not particularly anxious to stand either in the front or the -second row,' said Harwood. 'The pavement in the picture is simply an -atrocity. I saw the thing before.' - -So Harwood, Lottie, and Markham stood together at one of the open -windows, through which were borne the brazen strains of the distant -band, and the faint sounds of the laughter of the lawn-tennis players, -and the growls of the old Indians on the balcony. Daireen and the rest -of the party had gone to the furthest window from which at an oblique -angle one of the pictures was placed. Miss Vincent and Harwood soon -found themselves chatting briskly; but Markham stood leaning against the -wall behind them, with his eyes fixed upon Daireen, who was looking in -a puzzled way at the picture. Markham wondered what was the element that -called for this puzzled--almost troubled expression upon her face, but -he could not see anything of the work. - -'How very fine, is it not, George?' said Mrs. Crawford to Colonel Gerald -as they stood back to gaze upon the painting. - -'I think I'll go out and have a smoke,' replied the colonel smiling. - -Mrs. Crawford cast a reproachful glance towards him as he turned away, -but Mr. Glaston seemed oblivious to every remark. - -'Is it not wonderful, Daireen?' whispered Mrs. Crawford to the girl. - -'Yes,' said Daireen, 'I think it is--wonderful,' and the expression upon -her face became more troubled still. - -The picture was composed of a single figure--a half-naked, dark-skinned -female with large limbs and wild black hair. She was standing in a -high-roofed oriental kiosk upon a faintly coloured pavement, gazing -with fierce eyes upon a decoration of the wall, representing a battle -in which elephants and dromedaries were taking part. Through one of -the arched windows of the building a purple hill with a touch of sunset -crimson upon its ridge was seen, while the Evening Star blazed through -the dark blue of the higher heaven. - -Daireen looked into the picture, and when she saw the wild face of the -woman she gave a shudder, though she scarcely knew why. - -'All but the face,' she said. 'It is too terrible--there is nothing of a -woman about it.' - -'My dear child, that is the chief wonder of the picture,' said Mr. -Glaston. 'You recognise the subject, of course?' - -'It might be Cleopatra,' said Daireen dubiously. - -'Oh, hush, hush! never think of such a thing again,' said Mr. Glaston -with an expression that would have meant horror if it had not been -tempered with pity. 'Cleopatra is vulgar--vulgar--popular. That is -Aholibah.' - -'You remember, of course, my dear,' said Mrs. Crawford; 'she is a young -woman in the Bible--one of the old parts--Daniel or Job or Hezekiah, you -know. She was a Jewess or an Egyptian or something of that sort, like -Judith, the young person who drove a nail into somebody's brain--they -were always doing disagreeable things in those days. I can't recollect -exactly what this dreadful creature did, but I think it was somehow -connected with the head of John the Baptist.' - -'Oh, no, no,' said Daireen, still keeping her eyes fixed upon the face -of the figure as though it had fascinated her. - -'Aholibah the painter has called it,' said - -Mr. Glaston. 'But it is the symbolism of the picture that is most -valuable. Wonderful thought that is of the star--Astarte, you know ---shedding the light by which the woman views the picture of one of her -lovers.' - -'Oh!' exclaimed Mrs. Crawford in a shocked way, forgetting for the -moment that they were talking on Art. Then she recollected herself and -added apologetically, 'They were dreadful young women, you know, dear.' - -'Marvellous passion there is in that face,' continued the young man. -'It contains a lifetime of thought--of suffering. It is a poem--it is a -precious composition of intricate harmonies.' - -'Intricate! I should think it is,' said Harwood to Lottie, in the -distant window. - -'Hush!' cried the girl, 'the high-priest is beginning to speak.' - -'The picture is perhaps the only one in existence that may be said to be -the direct result of the three arts as they are termed, though we prefer -to think that there is not the least distinction between the methods of -painting, poetry, and music,' said Mr. Glaston. 'I chanced to drop in to -the studio of my friend who painted this, and I found him in a sad state -of despondency. He had nearly all of the details of the picture filled -in; the figure was as perfect as it is at present--all except the -expression of the face. "I have been thinking about it for days," -said the poor fellow, and I could see that his face was haggard with -suffering; "but only now and again has the expression I want passed -across my mind, and I have been unable to catch it." I looked at the -unfinished picture,' continued Mr. Glaston, 'and I saw what he wanted. -I stood before the picture in silence for some time, and then I composed -and repeated a sonnet which I fancied contained the missing expression -of passion. He sprang up and seized my hand, and his face brightened -with happiness: I had given him the absent idea, and I left him painting -enthusiastically. A few days after, however, I got a line from him -entreating me to come to him. I was by his side in an hour, and I found -him in his former state of despondency. "It has passed away again," -he said, "and I want you to repeat your sonnet." Unfortunately I had -forgotten every line of the sonnet, and when I told him so he was in -agony. But I begged of him not to despair. I brought the picture and -placed it before me on a piano. I looked at it and composed an impromptu -that I thought suggested the exact passion he wanted for the face. The -painter stood listening with his head bowed down to his hands. When I -ended he caught up the picture. "I see it all clearly," he cried; "you -have saved me--you have saved the picture." Two days afterwards he sent -it to me finished as it is now.' - -'Wonderful! is it not, Daireen?' said Mrs. Crawford, as the girl turned -away after a little pause. - -'The face,' said Daireen gently; 'I don't want ever to see it again. Let -us look at something else.' - -They turned away to the next picture; but Markham, who had been -observing the girl's face, and had noticed that little shudder come over -her, felt strangely interested in the painting, whatever it might be, -that had produced such an impression upon her. He determined to go -unobserved over to the window where the work was hanging so soon as -everyone would have left it. - -'It requires real cleverness to compose such a story as that of Mr. -Glaston's,' said Lottie Vincent to Mr. Harwood. - -'It sounded to me all along like a clever bit of satire, and I daresay -it was told to him as such,' said Harwood. 'It only needed him to -complete the nonsense by introducing another of the fine arts in the -working out of that wonderfully volatile expression.' - -'Which is that?' said Lottie; 'do tell me, like a good fellow,' and she -laid the persuasive finger of a four-buttoned glove upon his arm. - -'Certainly. I will finish the story for you,' said Harwood, giving the -least little imitation of the lordly manner of Mr. Glaston. 'Yes, -my friend the painter sent a telegram to me a few years after I had -performed that impromptu, and I was by his side in an hour. I found him -at least twenty years older in appearance, and he was searching with -a lighted candle in every corner of the studio for that expression of -passion which had once more disappeared. - -What could I do? I had exhausted the auxiliaries of poetry and music, -but fortunately another art remained to me; you have heard of the poetry -of motion? In an instant I had mounted the table and had gone through a -breakdown of the most sthetic design, when I saw his face lighten--his -grey hairs turned once more to black--long artistic oily black. "I have -found it," he cried, seizing the hearthbrush and dipping it into the -paint just as I completed the final attitude: it was found--but--what -is the matter, Miss Vincent?' - -'Look!' she whispered. 'Look at Mr. Markham.' - -'Good heavens!' cried Harwood, starting up, 'is he going to fall? No, he -has steadied himself by the window. I thought he was beside us.' - -'He went over to the picture a second ago, and I saw that pallor come -over him,' said Lottie. - -Harwood hastened to where Oswin Markham was standing, his white face -turned away from the picture, and his hand clutching the rail of a -curtain. - -'What is the matter, Markham?' said Harwood quietly. 'Are you faint?' - -Markham turned his eyes upon him with a startled expression, and a smile -that was not a smile came upon his face. - -'Faint? yes,' he said. 'This room after the air. I'll be all right. -Don't make a scene, for God's sake.' - -'There is no need,' said Harwood. 'Sit down here, and I'll get you a -glass of brandy.' - -'Not here,' said Markham, giving the least little side glance towards -the picture. 'Not here, but at the open window.' - -Harwood helped him over to the open window, and he fell into a seat -beside it and gazed out at the lawn-tennis players, quite regardless of -Lottie Vincent standing beside him and enquiring how he felt. - -In a few minutes Harwood returned with some brandy in a glass. - -'Thanks, my dear fellow,' said the other, drinking it off eagerly. 'I -feel better now--all right, in fact.' - -'This, of course, you perceive,' came the voice of Mr. Glaston from the -group who were engrossed over the wonders of the final picture,--'This -is an exquisite example of a powerful mind endeavouring to subdue the -agony of memory. Observe the symbolism of the grapes and vine leaves.' - -In the warm sunset light outside the band played on, and Miss Vincent -flitted from group to group with the news that this Mr. Markham had -added to the romance which was already associated with his name, by -fainting in the room with the pictures. She was considerably surprised -and mortified to see him walking with Miss Gerald to the colonel's -carriage in half an hour afterwards. - -'I assure you,' she said to some one who was laughing at her,--'I -assure you I saw him fall against the window at the side of one of the -pictures. If he was not in earnest, he will make our theatricals a great -success, for he must be a splendid actor.' - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - - -````Rightly to be great - -```Is not to stir without great argument.= - -````So much was our love - -```We would not understand what was most fit.= - -```She is so conjunctive to my life and soul - -```That, as the star moves not but in his sphere, - -```I could not but by her.= - -```How should I your true love know - -````From another one?--_Hamlet_.= - - -|ALL was not well with Mr. Standish MacDermot in these days. He was -still a guest at that pleasant little Dutch cottage of Colonel Gerald's -at Mowbray, and he received invitations daily to wherever Daireen -and her father were going. This was certainly all that he could have -expected to make him feel at ease in the strange land; but somehow he -did not feel at ease. He made himself extremely pleasant everywhere he -went, and he was soon a general favourite, though perhaps the few words -Mrs. Crawford now and again let fall on the subject of his parentage had -as large an influence as his own natural charm of manner in making the -young Irishman popular. Ireland was a curious place most of the people -at the Cape thought. They had heard of its rebellions and of its -secret societies, and they had thus formed an idea that the island was -something like a British colony of which the aborigines had hardly been -subdued. The impression that Standish was the son of one of the kings of -the land, who, like the Indian maharajahs, they believed, were allowed -a certain revenue and had their titles acknowledged by the British -Government, was very general; and Standish had certainly nothing -to complain of as to his treatment. But still all was not well with -Standish. - -He had received a letter from his father a week after his arrival -imploring him to return to the land of his sires, for The MacDermot -had learned from the ancient bard O'Brian, in whom the young man had -confided, that Standish's destination was the Cape, and so he had been -able to write to some address. The MacDermot promised to extend his -forgiveness to his son, and to withdraw his threat of disinheritance, if -he would return; and he concluded his letter by drawing a picture of -the desolation of the neighbourhood owing to the English projectors of -a railway and a tourists' hotel having sent a number of surveyors to -the very woods of Innishdermot to measure and plan and form all sorts of -evil intentions about the region. Under these trying circumstances, The -Mac-Dermot implored his son to grant him the consolation of his society -once more. What was still more surprising to Standish was the enclosure -in the letter of an order for a considerable sum of money, for he -fancied that his father had previously exhausted every available system -of leverage for the raising of money. - -But though it was very sad for Standish to hear of the old man sitting -desolate beside the lonely hearth of Innishdermot castle, he made up his -mind not to return to his home. He had set out to work in the world, and -he would work, he said. He would break loose from this pleasant life -he was at present leading, and he would work. Every night he made this -resolution, though as yet the concrete form of the thought as to what -sort of work he meant to set about had not suggested itself. He would -work nobly and manfully for her, he swore, and he would never tell her -of his love until he could lay his work at her feet and tell her that it -had been done all for her. Meantime he had gone to that garden party at -Government House and to several other entertainments, while nearly every -day he had been riding by the side of Daireen over The Flats or along -the beautiful road to Wynberg. - -And all the time that Standish was resolving not to open his lips in an -endeavour to express to Daireen all that was in his heart, another man -was beginning to feel that it would be necessary to take some step to -reveal himself to the girl. Arthur Harwood had been analyzing his own -heart every day since he had gazed out to the far still ocean from the -mountain above Funchal with Daireen beside him, and now he fancied he -knew every thought that was in his heart. - -He knew that he had been obliged to deny himself in his youth the luxury -of love. He had been working himself up to his present position by his -own industry and the use of the brains that he felt must be his capital -in life, and he knew he dared not even think of falling in love. But, -when he had passed the age of thirty and had made a name and a place for -himself in the world, he was aware that he might let his affections -go fetterless; but, alas, it seemed that they had been for too long in -slavery: they refused to taste the sweets of freedom, and it appeared -that his nature had become hard and unsympathetic. But it was neither, -he knew in his own soul, only he had been standing out of the world of -softness and of sympathy, and had built up for himself unconsciously an -ideal whose elements were various and indefinable, his imagination only -making it a necessity that not one of these elements of his ideal should -be possible to be found in the nature of any of the women with whom he -was acquainted and whom he had studied. - -When he had come to know Daireen Gerald--and he fancied he had come to -know her--he felt that he was no longer shut out from the world of love -with his cold ideal. He had thought of her day by day aboard the steamer -as he had thought of no girl hitherto in his life, and he had waited -for her to think of him and to become conscious that he loved her. -Considering that one of the most important elements of his vague ideal -was a complete and absolute unconsciousness of any passion, it was -scarcely consistent for him now to expect that Daireen should ever -perceive the feeling of his secret heart. - -He had, however, made up his mind to remain at the Cape instead of going -on to the Castaway Islands; and he had written long and interesting -letters to the newspaper which he represented, on the subject of the -attitude of the Kafir chief who, he heard, had been taking an attitude. -Then he had had several opportunities of riding the horse that Colonel -Gerald had placed at his disposal; but though he had walked and -conversed frequently with the daughter of Colonel Gerald, he felt that -it would be necessary for him to speak more directly what he at least -fancied was in his heart; so that while poor Standish was swearing every -night to keep his secret, Mr. Harwood was thinking by what means he -could contrive to reveal himself and find out what were the girl's -feelings with regard to himself. - -In the firmness of his resolution Standish was one afternoon, a few days -after the garden party, by the side of Daireen on the furthest extremity -of The Flats, where there was a small wood of pines growing in a sandy -soil of a glittering whiteness. They pulled up their horses here amongst -the trees, and Daireen looked out at the white plain beyond; but poor -Standish could only gaze upon her wistful face. - -'I like it,' she said musingly. 'I like that snow. Don't you think it is -snow, Standish?' - -'It is exactly the same,' he answered. 'I can feel a chill pass over me -as I look upon it. I hate it.' - -'Oh!' cried the girl, 'don't say that when I have said I like it.' - -'Why should that matter?' he said sternly, for he was feeling his -resolution very strong within him. - -She laughed. 'Why, indeed? Well, hate it as much as you wish, Standish, -it won't interfere with my loving it, and thinking of how I used to -enjoy the white winters at home. Then, you know, I used to be thinking -of places like this--places with plants like those aloes that the sun is -glittering over.' - -'And why I hate it,' said Standish, 'is because it puts me in mind of -the many wretched winters I spent in the miserable idleness of my -home. While others were allowed some chance of making their way in the -world--making names for themselves--there was I shut up in that gaol. -I have lost every chance I might have had--everyone is before me in the -race.' - -'In what race, Standish? In the race for fame?' - -'Yes, for fame,' cried Standish; 'not that I value fame for its own -sake,' he added. 'No, I don't covet it, except that--Daireen, I think -there is nothing left for me in the world--I am shut out from every -chance of reaching anything. I was wretched at home, but I feel even -more wretched here.' - -'Why should you do that, Standish?' she asked, turning her eyes upon -him. 'I am sure everyone here is very kind.' - -'I don't want their kindness, Daireen; it is their kindness that makes -me feel an impostor. What right have I to receive their kindness? Yes, I -had better take my father's advice and return by next mail. I am useless -in the world--it doesn't want me.' - -'Don't talk so stupidly--so wickedly,' said the girl gravely. 'You are -not a coward to set out in the world and turn back discouraged even -before you have got anything to discourage you.' - -'I am no coward,' he said; 'but everything has been too hard for me. I -am a fool--a wretched fool to have set my heart--my soul, upon an object -I can never reach.' - -'What do you mean, Standish? You haven't set your heart upon anything -that you may not gain in time. You will, I know, if you have courage, -gain a good and noble name for yourself.' - -'Of what use would it be to me, Daireen? It would only be a mockery to -me--a bitter mockery unless--Oh, Daireen, it must come, you have forced -it from me--I will tell you and then leave you for ever--Daireen, I -don't care for anything in the world but to have you love me--a little, -Daireen. What would a great name be to me unless----' - -'Hush, Standish,' said the girl with her face flushed and almost angry. -'Do not ever speak to me like this again. Why should all our good -friendship come to an end?' She had softened towards the close of her -sentence, and she was now looking at him in tenderness. - -'You have forced me to speak,' he said. 'God knows how I have struggled -to hold my secret deep down in my heart--how I have sworn to hold it, -but it forced itself out--we are not masters of ourselves, Daireen. Now -tell me to leave you--I am prepared for it, for my dream, I knew, was -bound to vanish at a touch.' - -'Considering that I am four miles from home and in a wood, I cannot -tell you to do that,' she said with a laugh, for all her anger had been -driven away. 'Besides that, I like you far too well to turn you away; -but, Standish, you must never talk so to me again. Now, let us return.' - -'I know I must not, because I am a beggar,' he said almost madly. 'You -will love some one who has had a chance of making a name for himself in -the world. I have had no chance.' - -'Standish, I am waiting for you to return.' - -'Yes, I have seen them sitting beside you aboard the steamer,' continued -Standish bitterly, 'and I knew well how it would be.' He looked at her -almost fiercely. 'Yes, I knew it--you have loved one of them.' - -Daireen's face flushed fearfully and then became deathly pale as she -looked at him. She did not utter a word, but looked into his face -steadily with an expression he had never before seen upon hers. He -became frightened. - -'Daireen--dearest Daireen, forgive me,' he cried. I am a fool--no, -worse--I don't know what I say. Daireen, pity me and forgive me. Don't -look at me that way, for God's sake. Speak to me.' - -'Come away,' she said gently. 'Come away, Standish.' - -'But tell me you forgive me, Daireen,' he pleaded. - -'Come away,' she said. - -She turned her horse's head towards the track which was made through -that fine white sand and went on from amongst the pines. He followed her -with a troubled mind, and they rode side by side over the long flats -of heath until they had almost reached the lane of cactus leading to -Mowbray. In a few minutes they would be at the Dutch cottage, and yet -they had not interchanged a word. Standish could not endure the silence -any longer. He pulled up his horse suddenly. - -'Daireen,' he said. 'I have been a fool--a wicked fool, to talk to you -as I did. I cannot go on until you say you forgive me.' - -Then she turned round and smiled on him, holding out her hand. - -'We are very foolish, Standish,' she said. 'We are both very foolish. -Why should I think anything of what you said? We are still good friends, -Standish.' - -'God bless you!' he cried, seizing her hand fervently. 'I will not make -myself a fool again.' 'And I,' said the girl, 'I will not be a fool -again.' - -So they rode back together. But though Standish had received forgiveness -he was by no means satisfied with the girl's manner. There was an -expression that he could not easily read in that smile she had given -him. He had meant to be very bitter towards her, but had not expected -her to place him in a position requiring forgiveness. She had forgiven -him, it was true, but then that smile of hers--what was that sad wistful -expression upon her face? He could not tell, but he felt that on the -whole he had not gained much by the resolutions he had made night -after night. He was inclined to be dissatisfied with the result of his -morning's ride, nor was this feeling perceptibly decreased by seeing -beneath one of the broad-leaved trees that surrounded the cottage the -figure of Mr. Arthur Harwood by the side of Colonel Gerald. - -Harwood came forward as Daireen reined up on the avenue. - -'I have come to say good-bye to you,' he said, looking up to her face. - -'Good-bye?' she answered. 'Why, you haven't said good-morning yet.' - -Mr. Harwood was a clever man and he knew it; but his faculty for reading -what was passing in another person's mind did not bring him happiness -always. He had made use of what he meant to be a test sentence to -Daireen, and the result of his observation of its effect was not wholly -pleasant to him. He had hoped for a little flush--a little trembling of -the hand, but neither had come; a smile was on her face, and the pulses -of the hand she held out to him were unruffled. He knew then that the -time had not yet come for him to reveal himself. - -But why should you say good-bye?' she asked after she had greeted him. - -'Well, perhaps I should only say _au revoir_, though, upon my word, the -state of the colony is becoming so critical that one going up country -should always say good-bye. Yes, my duties call me to leave all this -pleasant society, Miss Gerald. I am going among the Zulus for a while.' - -'I have every confidence in you, Mr. Harwood,' she said. 'You will -return in safety. We will miss you greatly, but I know how much the -people at home will be benefited by hearing the result of your visit; so -we resign ourselves to your absence. But indeed we shall miss you.' - -'And if a treacherous assegai should transfix me, I trust my fate will -draw a single tear,' he said. - -There was a laugh as Daireen rode round to dismount and Harwood went -in to lunch. It was very pleasant chat he felt, but he was as much -dissatisfied with her laugh as Standish had been with her smile. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - - -```Sure, He that made us with such large discourse, - -```Looking before and after, gave us not - -```That capability and godlike reason - -```To fust in us unused.= - -`````Yet do I believe - -```The origin and commencement of his grief - -```Sprung from neglected love.= - -````... he repulsed--a short tale to make-- - -```Fell into a sadness, then into a fast, - -```Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness, - -```Thence to a lightness; and by this declension - -```Into the madness.--_Hamlet._= - - -|THE very pleasantness of the lunch Harwood had at the Dutch cottage -made his visit seem more unsatisfactory to him. He had come up to the -girl with that sentence which should surely have sounded pathetic even -though spoken with indifference. He was beside her to say good-bye. He -had given her to understand that he was going amongst the dangers of a -disturbed part of the country, but the name of the barbarous nation had -not made her cheek pale. It was well enough for himself to make light -of his adventurous undertaking, but he did not think that her smiles in -telling him that she would miss him were altogether becoming. - -Yes, as he rode towards Cape Town he felt that the time had not yet -come for him to reveal himself to Daireen Gerald. He would have to be -patient, as he had been for years. - -Thus far he had found out negatively how Daireen felt towards himself: -she liked him, he knew, but only as most women liked him, because -he could tell them in an agreeable way things that they wanted to -know--because he had travelled everywhere and had become distinguished. -He was not a conceited man, but he knew exactly how he stood in the -estimation of people, and it was bitter for him to reflect that he -did not stand differently with regard to Miss Gerald. But he had not -attempted to discover what were Daireen's feelings respecting any one -else. He was well aware that Mrs. Crawford was anxious to throw Mr. -Glaston in the way of the girl as much as possible; but he felt that it -would take a long time for Mr. Glaston to make up his mind to sacrifice -himself at Daireen's feet, and Daireen was far too sensible to be -imposed upon by his artistic flourishes. As for this young Mr. Standish -Macnamara, Harwood saw at once that Daireen regarded him with a -friendliness that precluded the possibility of love, so he did not fear -the occupation of the girl's heart by Standish. But when Harwood began -to think of Oswin Markham--he heard the sound of a horse's hoofs behind -him, and Oswin Markham himself trotted up, looking dusty and fatigued. - -"I thought I should know your animal," said Markham, "and I made an -effort to overtake you, though I meant to go easily into the town." - -Harwood looked at him and then at his horse. - -"You seem as if you owed yourself a little ease," he said. "You -must have done a good deal in the way of riding, judging from your -appearance." - -"A great deal too much," replied Markham. "I have been on the saddle -since breakfast." - -"You have been out every morning for the past three days before I have -left my room. I was quite surprised when I heard it, after the evidence -you gave at the garden party of your weakness." - -"Of my weakness, yes," said Markham, with a little laugh. "It was -wretchedly weak to allow myself to be affected by the change from the -open air to that room, but it felt stifling to me." - -"I didn't feel the difference to be anything considerable," said -Harwood; "so the fact of your being overcome by it proves that you are -not in a fit state to be playing with your constitution. Where did you -ride to-day?" - -"Where? Upon my word I have not the remotest idea," said Markham. "I -took the road out to Simon's Bay, but I pulled up at a beach on the -nearer side of it, and remained there for a good while." - -"Nothing could be worse than riding about in this aimless sort of way. -Here you are completely knocked up now, as you have been for the past -three evenings. Upon my word, you seem indifferent as to whether or not -you ever leave the colony alive. You are simply trifling with yourself." - -"You are right, I suppose," said Markham wearily. "But what is a fellow -to do in Cape Town? One can't remain inactive beyond a certain time." - -"It is only within the past three days you have taken up this roving -notion," said Harwood. "It is in fact only since that Government House -affair." Markham turned and looked at him eagerly for a moment. "Yes, -since your weakness became apparent to yourself, you have seemed bound -to prove your strength to the furthest. But you are pushing it too far, -my boy. You'll find out your mistake." - -"Perhaps so," laughed the other. "Perhaps so. By the way, is it true -that you are going up country, Harwood?" - -"Quite true. The fact is that affairs are becoming critical with regard -to our relations with the Zulus, and unless I am greatly mistaken, this -colony will be the centre of interest before many months have passed." - -"There is nothing I should like better than to go up with you, Harwood." - -Harwood shook his head. "You are not strong enough, my boy," he said. - -There was a pause before Markham said slowly: - -"No, I am not strong enough." - -Then they rode into Cape Town together, and dismounted at their hotel; -and, certainly, as he walked up the stairs to his room, Oswin Markham -looked anything but strong enough to undertake a journey into the Veldt. -Doctor Campion would probably have spoken unkindly to him had he seen -him now, haggard and weary, with his day spent on an exposed road -beneath a hot sun. - -"He is anything but strong enough," said Harwood to himself as he -watched the other man; and then he recollected the tone in which Markham -had repeated those words, "I am not strong enough." Was it possible, he -asked himself, that Markham meant that his strength of purpose was not -sufficiently great? He thought over this question for some time, and the -result of his reflection was to make him wish that he had not thought -the conduct of that defiant chief of such importance as demanded the -personal observation of the representative of the _Dominant Trumpeter_. -He felt that he would like to search out the origin of the weakness of -Mr. Oswin Markham. - -But all the time these people were thinking their thoughts and making -their resolutions upon various subjects, Mr. Algernon Glaston was -remaining in the settled calm of artistic rectitude. He was awaiting -with patience the arrival of his father from the Salamander Archipelago, -though he had given the prelate of that interesting group to understand -that circumstances would render it impossible for his son to remain -longer than a certain period at the Cape, so that if he desired the -communion of his society it would be necessary to allow the mission work -among the Salamanders to take care of itself. For Mr. Glaston was by no -means unaware of the sacrifice he was in the habit of making annually -for the sake of passing a few weeks with his father in a country far -removed from all artistic centres. The Bishop of the Calapash Islands -and Metropolitan of the Salamander Archipelago had it several times -urged upon him that his son was a marvel of filial duty for undertaking -this annual journey, so that he, no doubt, felt convinced of the fact; -and though this visit added materially to the expenses of his son's mode -of life, which, of course, were defrayed by the bishop, yet the bishop -felt that this addition was, after all, trifling compared with the value -of the sentiment of filial affection embodied in the annual visit to the -Cape. - -Mr. Glaston had allowed his father a margin of three weeks for any -impediments that might arise to prevent his leaving the Salamanders, but -a longer space he could not, he assured his father, remain awaiting his -arrival from the sunny islands of his see. Meantime he was dining out -night after night with his friends at the Cape, and taking daily drives -and horse-exercise for the benefit of his health. Upon the evening when -Harwood and Markham entered the hotel together, Mr. Glaston was just -departing to join a dinner-party which was to assemble at the house of -a certain judge, and as Harwood was also to be a guest, he was compelled -to dress hastily. - -Oswin Markham was not, however, aware of the existence of the hospitable -judge, so he remained in the hotel. He was tired almost to a point of -prostration after his long aimless ride, but a bath and a dinner revived -him, and after drinking his coffee he threw himself upon a sofa and -slept for some hours. When he awoke it was dark, and then lighting a -cigar he went out to the balcony that ran along the upper windows, and -seated himself in the cool air that came landwards from the sea. - -He watched the soldiers in white uniform crossing the square; he saw -the Malay population who had been making a holiday, returning to their -quarter of the town, the men with their broad conical straw hats, the -women with marvellously coloured shawls; he saw the coolies carrying -their burdens, and the Hottentots and the Kafirs and all the races -blended in the motley population of Cape Town. He glanced listlessly at -all, thinking his own thoughts undisturbed by any incongruity of tongues -or of races beneath him, and he was only awakened from the reverie into -which he had fallen by the opening of one of the windows near him and -the appearance on the balcony of Algernon Glaston in his dinner dress -and smoking a choice cigar. - -The generous wine of the generous judge had made Mr. Glaston -particularly courteous, for he drew his chair almost by the side of -Markham's and inquired after his health. - -"Harwood was at that place to-night," he said, "and he mentioned -that you were killing yourself. Just like these newspaper fellows to -exaggerate fearfully for the sake of making a sensation. You are all -right now, I think." - -"Quite right," said Markham. "I don't feel exactly like an elephant -for vigour, but you know what it is to feel strong without having any -particular strength. I am that way." - -"Dreadfully brutal people I met to-night," continued Mr. Glaston -reflectively. "Sort of people Harwood could get on with. Talking -actually about some wretched savage--some Zulu chief or other from whom -they expect great things; as if the action of a ruffianly barbarian -could affect any one. It was quite disgusting talk. I certainly would -have come away at once only I was lucky enough to get by the side of a -girl who seems to know something of Art--a Miss Vincent--she is quite -fresh and enthusiastic on the subject--quite a child indeed." - -Markham thought it prudent to light a fresh cigar from the end of the -one he had smoked, at the interval left by Mr. Glaston for his comment, -so that a vague "indeed" was all that came through his closed lips. - -"Yes, she seems rather a tractable sort of little thing. By the way, she -mentioned something about your having become faint at Government House -the other day, before you had seen all my pictures." - -"Ah, yes," said Markham. "The change from the open air to that room." - -"Ah, of course. Miss Vincent seems to understand something of the -meaning of the pictures. She was particularly interested in one of them, -which, curiously enough, is the most wonderful of the collection. Did -you study them all?" - -"No, not all; the fact was, that unfortunate weakness of mine interfered -with my scrutiny," said Markham. "But the single glance I had at one -of the pictures convinced me that it was a most unusual work. I felt -greatly interested in it." - -"That was the Aholibah, no doubt." - -"Yes, I heard your description of how if came to be painted." - -"Ah, but that referred only to the marvellous expression of the face--so -saturate--so devoured--with passion. You saw how Miss Gerald turned away -from it with a shudder?" - -"Why did she do that?" said Markham. - -"Heaven knows," said Glaston, with a little sneer. - -"Heaven knows," said Markham, after a pause and without any sneer. - -"She could not understand it," continued Glaston. "All that that face -means cannot be apprehended in a glance. It has a significance of its -own--it is a symbol of a passion that withers like a fire--a passion -that can destroy utterly all the beauty of a life that might have been -intense with beauty. You are not going away, are you?" - -Markham had risen from his seat and turned away his head, grasping the -rail of the balcony. It was some moments before he started and looked -round at the other man. "I beg your pardon," he said; "I'm not going -away, I am greatly interested. Yes, I caught a glimpse of the expression -of the face." - -"It is a miracle of power," continued Glaston. "Miss Gerald felt, but -she could not understand why she should feel, its power." - -There was a long pause, during which Markham stared blankly across the -square, and the other leant back in his chair and watched the curling of -his cigar clouds through the still air. From the garrison at the castle -there came to them the sound of a bugle-call. - -"I am greatly interested in that picture," said Markham at length. "I -should like to know all the details of its working out." - -"The expression of the face----" - -"Ah, I know all of that. I mean the scene--that hill seen through the -arch--the pavement of the oriental apartment--the--the figure--how did -the painter bring them together?" - -"That is of little consequence in the study of the elements of the -symbolism," said Mr. Glaston. - -"Yes, of course it is; but still I should like to know." - -"I really never thought of putting any question to the painter about -these matters," replied Glaston. "He had travelled in the East, and the -kiosk was amongst his sketches; as for the model of the figure, if I do -not mistake, I saw the study for the face in an old portfolio of his he -brought from Sicily." - -"Ah, indeed." - -"But these are mere accidents in the production of the picture. The -symbolism is the picture." - -Again there was a pause, and the chatter of a couple of Malays in the -street became louder, and then fainter, as the speakers drew near and -passed away. - -"Glaston," said Markham at length, "did you remove the pictures from -Government House?" - -"They are in one of my rooms," said Glaston. "Would you think it a piece -of idle curiosity if I were to step upstairs and take a look at that -particular work?" - -"You could not see it by lamplight. You can study them all in the -morning." - -"But I feel in the mood just now, and you know how much depends upon the -mood." - -"My room is open," said Glaston. "But the idea that has possessed you is -absurd." - -"I dare say, I dare say, but I have become interested in all that you -have told me; I must try and--and understand the symbolism." - -He left the balcony before Mr. Glaston had made up his mind as to -whether there was a touch of sarcasm in his voice uttering the final -sentence. - -"Not worse than the rest of the uneducated world," murmured the Art -prophet condescendingly. - -But in Mr. Glaston's private room upstairs Oswin Markham was standing -holding a lighted lamp up to that interesting picture and before that -wonderful symbolic expression upon the face of the figure; the rest of -the room was in darkness. He looked up to the face that the lamplight -gloated over. The remainder of the picture was full of reflections of -the light. - -"A power that can destroy utterly all the beauty of a life," he said, -repeating the analysis of Mr. Glaston. He continued looking at it before -he repeated another of that gentleman's sentences--"She felt, but could -not understand, its power." He laid the lamp on the table and walked -over to the darkened window and gazed out. But once more he returned -to the picture. "A passion that can destroy utterly all the beauty of -life," he said again. "Utterly! that is a lie!" He remained with his -eyes upon the picture for some moments, then he lifted the lamp and went -to the door. At the door he stopped, glanced at the picture and laughed. - -In the Volsunga Saga there is an account of how a jealous woman listens -outside the chamber where a man whom she once loved is being murdered in -his wife's arms; hearing the cry of the wife in the chamber the woman at -the door laughs. A man beside her says, "Thou dost not laugh because thy -heart is made glad, or why moves that pallor upon thy face?" - -Oswin Markham left the room and thanked Mr. Glaston for having gratified -his whim. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - - -``... What he spake, though it lacked form a little, - -``Was not like madness. There's something in his soul - -``O'er which his melancholy sits on brood.= - -``Purpose is but the slave to memory. - -``Most necessary 'tis that we forget.--_Hamlet._= - - -|THE long level rays of the sun that was setting in crimson splendour -were touching the bright leaves of the silver-fir grove on one side of -the ravine traversing the slope of the great peaked hill which makes -the highest point of Table Mountain, but the other side was shadowy. The -flat face of the precipice beneath the long ridge of the mountain was -full of fantastic gleams of red in its many crevices, and far away a -thin waterfall seemed a shimmering band of satin floating downwards -through a dark bed of rocks. Table Bay was lying silent and with hardly' -a sparkle upon its ripples from where the outline of Robbin Island was -seen at one arm of its crescent to the white sand of the opposite shore. -The vineyards of the lower slope, beneath which the red road crawled, -were dim and colourless, for the sunset bands had passed away from them -and flared only upon the higher slopes. - -Upon the summit of the ridge of the silver-fir ravine Daireen Gerald sat -looking out to where the sun was losing itself among the ridges of the -distant kloof, and at her feet was Oswin Markham. Behind them rose the -rocks of the Peak with their dark green herbage. Beneath them the soft -rustle of a songless bird was heard through the foliage. - -But it remains to be told how those two persons came to be watching -together the phenomenon of sunset from the slope. - -It was Mrs. Crawford who had upon the very day after the departure of -Arthur Harwood organised one of those little luncheon parties which are -so easily organised and give promise of pleasures so abundant. She had -expressed to Mr. Harwood the grief she felt at his being compelled by -duty to depart from the midst of their circle, just as she had said to -Mr. Markham how bowed down she had been at the reflection of his leaving -the steamer at St. Helena; and Harwood had thanked her for her kind -expressions, and made a mental resolve that he would say something -sarcastic regarding the Army Boot Commission in his next communication -to the _Dominant Trumpeter_. But the hearing of the gun of the mail -steamer that was to convey the special correspondent to Natal was the -pleasantest sensation Mrs. Crawford had experienced for long. She had -been very anxious on Harwood's account for some time. She did not by -any means think highly of the arrangement which had been made by Colonel -Gerald to secure for one of his horses an amount of exercise by allowing -Mr. Harwood to ride it; for she was well aware that Mr. Harwood would -think it quite within the line of his duty to exercise the animal at -times when Miss Gerald would be riding out. She knew that most girls -liked Mr. Harwood, and whatever might be Mr. Harwood's feelings towards -the race that so complimented him, she could not doubt that he admired -to a perilous point the daughter of Colonel Gerald. If, then, the girl -would return his feeling, what would become of Mrs. Crawford's hopes for -Mr. Glaston? - -It was the constant reflection upon this question that caused the sound -of the mail gun to fall gratefully upon the ears of the major's wife. -Harwood was to be away for more than a month at any rate, and in a month -much might be accomplished, not merely by a special correspondent, but -by a lady with a resolute mind and a strategical training. So she had -set her mind to work, and without delay had organised what gave promise -of being a delightful little lunch, issuing half a dozen invitations -only three days in advance. - -Mr. Algernon Glaston had, after some persuasion, promised to join the -party. Colonel Gerald and his daughter expressed the happiness they -would have at being present, and Mr. Standish Macnamara felt certain -that nothing could interfere with his delight. Then there were the two -daughters of a member of the Legislative Council who were reported to -look with fond eyes upon the son of one of the justices of the Supreme -Court, a young gentleman who was also invited. Lastly, by what Mrs. -Crawford considered a stroke of real constructive ability, Mr. Oswin -Markham and Miss Lottie Vincent were also begged to allow themselves to -be added to the number of the party. Mrs. Crawford disliked Lottie, -but that was no reason why Lottie should not exercise the tactics Mrs. -Crawford knew she possessed, to take care of Mr. Oswin Markham for the -day. - -They would have much to talk about regarding the projected dramatic -entertainment of the young lady, so that Mr. Glaston should be left -solitary in that delightful listless after-space of lunch, unless -indeed--and the contingency was, it must be confessed, suggested to the -lady--Miss Gerald might chance to remain behind the rest of the party; -in that case it would not seem beyond the bounds of possibility that the -weight of Mr. Glaston's loneliness would be endurable. - -Everything had been carried out with that perfect skill which can be -gained only by experience. The party had driven from Mowbray for a -considerable way up the hill. The hampers had been unpacked and the -lunch partaken of in a shady nook which was supposed to be free from the -venomous reptiles that make picnics somewhat risky enjoyments in sunny -lands; and then the young people had trooped away to gather Venus-hair -ferns at the waterfall, or silver leaves from the grove, or bronze-green -lizards, or some others of the offspring of nature which have come into -existence solely to meet the requirements of collectors. Mr. Glaston and -Daireen followed more leisurely, and Mrs. Crawford's heart was happy. -The sun would be setting in an hour, she reflected, and she had great -confidence in the effect of fine sunsets upon the hearts of lovers--. -nay, upon the raw material that might after a time develop into the -hearts of lovers. She was quite satisfied seeing the young people -depart, for she was not aware how much more pleasant than Oswin Markham -Lottie Vincent had found Mr. Glaston at that judge's dinner-party a -few evenings previous, nor how much more plastic than Miss Gerald Mr. -Glaston had found Lottie Vincent upon the same occasion. - -Mrs. Crawford did not think it possible that Lottie could be so clever, -even if she had had the inclination, as to effect the separation of -the party as it had been arranged. But Lottie had by a little manouvre -waited at the head of the ravine until Mr. Glaston and Daireen had -come up, and then she had got into conversation with Mr. Glaston upon a -subject that was a blank to the others, so that they had walked quietly -on together until that pleasant space at the head of the ravine was -reached. There Daireen had seated herself to watch the west become -crimson with sunset, and at her feet Oswin had cast himself to watch her -face. - -Had Mrs. Crawford been aware of this, she would scarcely perhaps have -been so pleasant to her friend Colonel Gerald, or to her husband far -down on the slope. - -It was very silent at the head of that ravine. The delicate splash of -the water that trickled through the rocks far away was distinctly heard. -The rosy bands that had been about the edges of the silver leaves had -passed off. Daireen's face was at last left in shadow, and she turned to -watch the rays move upwards, until soon only the dark Peak was enwound -in the red light that made its forehead like the brows of an ancient -Bacchanal encircled with a rose-wreath. Then quickly the red dwindled -away, until only a single rose-leaf was upon the highest point; an -instant more and it had passed, leaving the hill dark and grim in -outline against the pale blue. - -Then succeeded that time of silent conflict between light and -darkness--a time of silence and of wonder. - -Upon the slope of the Peak it was silent enough. The girl's eyes went -out across the shadowy plain below to where the water was shining in its -own gray light, but she uttered not a word. The man leant his head upon -his hand as he looked up to her face. - -"What is the 'Ave' you are breathing to the sunset, Miss Gerald?" he -said at length, and she gave a little start and looked at him. "What is -the vesper hymn your heart has been singing all this time?" - -She laughed. "No hymn, no song." - -"I saw it upon your face," he said. "I saw its melody in your eyes; and -yet--yet I cannot understand it--I am too gross to be able to translate -it. I suppose if a man had sensitive hearing the wind upon the blades -of grass would make good music to him, but most people are dull to -everything but the rolling of barrels and such-like music." - -"I had not even a musical thought," said the girl. "I am afraid that if -all I thought were translated into words, the result would be a jumble: -you know what that means." - -"Yes. Heaven is a jumble, isn't it? A bit of wonderful blue here, and -a shapeless cloud there--a few faint breaths of music floating about a -place of green, and an odour of a field of flowers. Yes, all dreams are -jumbles." - -"And I was dreaming?" she said. "Yes, I dare say my confusion of thought -without a single idea may be called by courtesy a dream." - -"And now have you awakened?" - -"Dreams must break and dissolve some time, I suppose, Mr. Markham." - -"They must, they must," he said. "I wonder when will my awaking come." - -"Have you a dream?" she asked, with a laugh. - -"I am living one," he answered. - -"Living one?" - -"Living one. My life has become a dream to me. How am I beside you? How -is it possible that I could be beside you? Either of two things must -be a dream--either my past life is a dream, or I am living one in this -life." - -"Is there so vast a difference between them?" she asked, looking at him. -His eyes were turned away from her. - -"Vast? Vast?" he repeated musingly. Then he rose to his feet and looked -out oceanwards. "I don't know what is vast," he said. Then he looked -down to her. "Miss Gerald, I don't believe that my recollection of my -past is in the least correct. My memory is a falsehood utterly. For it -is quite impossible that this body of mine--this soul of mine--could -have passed through such a change as I must have passed through if -my memory has got anything of truth in it. My God! my God! The -recollections that come to me are, I know, impossible." - -"I don't understand you, Mr. Markham," said Daireen. - -Once more he threw himself on the short tawny herbage beside her. - -"Have you not heard of men being dragged back when they have taken a -step beyond the barrier that hangs between life and death--men who have -had one foot within the territory of death?" - -"I have heard of that." - -"And you know it is not the same old life that a man leads when he -is brought from that dominion of death. He begins life anew. He knows -nothing of the past. He laughs at the faces that were once familiar to -him; they mean nothing to him. His past is dead. Think of me, child. -Day by day I suffered all the agonies of death and hell, and shall I not -have granted to me that most righteous gift of God? Shall not my past -be utterly blotted out? Yes, these vague memories that I have are the -memories of a dream. God has not been so just to me as to others, for -there are some realities of the past still with me I know, and thus I am -at times led to think it might be possible that all my recollections are -true--but no, it is impossible--utterly impossible." Again he leapt to -his feet and clasped his hands over his head. "Child--child, if you knew -all, you would pity me," he said, in a tone no louder than a whisper. - -She had never heard anything so pitiful before. Seeing the agony of the -man, and hearing him trying to convince himself of that at which his -reason rebelled, was terribly pitiful to her. She never before that -moment knew how she felt towards this man to whom she had given life. - -"What can I say of comfort to you?" she said. "You have all the sympathy -of my heart. Why will you not ask me to help you? What is my pity?" - -He knelt beside her. "Be near me," he said. "Let me look at you now. Is -there not a bond between us?--such a bond as binds man to his God? You -gave me my life as a gift, and it will be a true life now. God had no -pity for me, but you have more than given me your pity. The life you -have given me is better than the life given me by God." - -"Do not say that," she said. "Do not think that I have given you -anything. It is your God who has changed you through those days of -terrible suffering." - -"Yes, the suffering is God's gift," he cried bitterly. "Torture of days -and nights, and then not utter forgetfulness. After passing through -the barrier of death, I am denied the blessings that should come with -death." - -"Why should you wish to forget anything of the past?" she asked. "Has -everything been so very terrible to you?" - -"Terrible?" he said, clasping his hands over one of his knees and gazing -out to the conflict of purple and shell-pink in the west. "No, nothing -was terrible. I am no Corsair with a hundred romantic crimes to give -me so much remorseful agony as would enable me to act the part of Count -Lara with consistency. I am no Lucifer encircled with a halo of splendid -wickedness. It is only the change that has passed over me since I felt -myself looking at you that gives me this agony of thought. Wasted time -is my only sin--hours cast aside--years trampled upon. I lived for -myself as I had a chance--as thousands of others do, and it did not seem -to me anything terrible that I should make my father's days miserable to -him. I did not feel myself to be the curse to him that I now know myself -to have been. I was a curse to him. He had only myself in the world--no -other son, and yet I could leave him to die alone--yes, and to die -offering me his forgiveness--offering it when it was not in my power -to refuse to accept it. This is the memory that God will not take away. -Nay, I tell you it seems that instead of being blotted out by my days of -suffering it is but intensified." - -He had bowed down his face upon his hands as he sat there. Her eyes were -full of tears of sympathy and compassion--she felt with him, and his -sufferings were hers. - -"I pity you--with all my soul I pity you," she said, laying her hand -upon his shoulder. - -He turned and took her hand, holding it not with a fervent grasp; but in -his face that looked up to her tearful eyes there was a passion of love -and adoration. - -"As a man looks to his God I look to you," he said. "Be near me that the -life you have given me may be good. Let me think of you, and the dead -Past shall bury its dead." - -What answer could she make to him? The tears continued to come to her -eyes as she sat while he looked into her face. - -"You know," she said--"you know I feel for you. You know that I -understand you." - -"Not all," he said slowly. "I am only beginning to understand myself; I -have never done so in all my life hitherto." - -Then they watched the delicate shadowy dimness--not gray, but full of -the softest azure--begin to swathe the world beneath them. The waters -of the bay were reflecting the darkening sky, and out over the ocean -horizon a single star was beginning to breathe through the blue. - -"Daireen," he said at length, "is the bond between us one of love?" - -There was no passion in his voice, nor was his hand that held hers -trembling as he spoke. She gave no start at his words, nor did she -withdraw her hand. Through the silence the splash of the waterfall above -them was heard clearly. She looked at him through the long pause. - -"I do not know," she said. "I cannot answer you yet----No, not yet--not -yet." - -"I will not ask," he said quietly. "Not yet--not yet." And he dropped -her hand. - -Then he rose and looked out to that star, which was no longer smothered -in the splendid blue of the heavens, but was glowing in passion until -the waters beneath caught some of its rays. - -There was a long pause before a voice sounded behind them on the -slope--the musical voice of Miss Lottie Vincent. - -"Did you ever see such a sentimental couple?" she cried, raising her -hands with a very pretty expression of mock astonishment. "Watching the -twilight as if you were sitting for your portraits, while here we have -been searching for you over hill and dale. Have we not, Mr. Glaston?" - -Mr. Glaston thought it unnecessary to corroborate a statement made with -such evident ingenuousness. - -"Well, your search met with its reward, I hope, Miss Vincent," said -Oswin. - -"What, in finding you?" - -"I am not so vain as to fancy it possible that you should accept that as -a reward, Miss Vincent," he replied. - -The young lady gave him a glance that was meant to read his inmost soul. -Then she laughed. - -"We must really hasten back to good Mamma Crawford," she said, with a -seriousness that seemed more frivolous than her frivolity. "Every one -will be wondering where we have been." - -"Lucky that you will be able to tell them," remarked Oswin. - -"How?" she said quickly, almost apprehensively. - -"Why, you know you can say 'Over hill, over dale,' and so satisfy even -the most sceptical in a moment." - -Miss Lottie made a little pause, then laughed again; she did not think -it necessary to make any reply. - -And so they all went down by the little track along the edge of the -ravine, and the great Peak became darker above them as the twilight -dwindled into evening. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - - -````I have remembrances of yours-- - -```... words of so sweet breath composed - -```As made the things more rich.= - -``Hamlet.... You do remember all the circumstance? - -``Horatio. Remember it, my lord? - -``Hamlet. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting - -```That would not let me sleep.= - -`````... poor Ophelia, - -``Divided from herself and her fair judgment.= - -````Sleep rock thy brain, - -``And never come mischance.--_Hamlet._= - - -|MRS. Crawford was not in the least apprehensive of the safety of the -young people who had been placed under her care upon this day. She had -been accustomed in the good old days at Arradambad, when the scorching -inhabitants had lifted their eyes unto the hills, and had fled to their -cooling slopes, to organise little open-air tiffins for the benefit of -such young persons as had come out to visit the British Empire in the -East under the guidance of the major's wife, and the result of her -experience went to prove that it was quite unnecessary to be in the -least degree nervous regarding the ultimate welfare of the young persons -who were making collections of the various products of Nature. It was -much better for the young persons to learn self-dependence, she thought, -and though many of the maidens under her care had previously, through -long seasons at Continental watering-places, become acquainted with -a few of the general points to be observed in maintaining a course of -self-dependence, yet the additional help that came to them from the -hills was invaluable. - -As Mrs. Crawford now gave a casual glance round the descending party, -she felt that her skill as a tactician was not on the wane. They were -walking together, and though Lottie was of course chatting away as -flippantly as ever, yet both Markham and Mr. Glaston was very silent, -she saw, and her conclusions were as rapid as those of an accustomed -campaigner should be. Mr. Glaston had been talking to Daireen in the -twilight, so that Lottie's floss-chat was a trouble to him; while Oswin -Markham was wearied with having listened for nearly an hour to her -inanities, and was seeking for the respite of silence. - -"You naughty children, to stray away in that fashion!" she cried. "Do -you fancy you had permission to lose yourselves like that?" - -"Did we lose ourselves, Miss Vincent?" said Markham. - -"We certainly did not," said Lottie, and then Mrs. Crawford's first -suggestions were confirmed: Lottie and Markham spoke of themselves, -while Daireen and Mr. Glaston were mute. - -"It was very naughty of you," continued the matron. "Why, in India, if -you once dared do such a thing----" - -"We should do it for ever," cried Lottie. "Now, you know, my dear good -Mrs. Crawford, I have been in India, and I have had experience of -your picnics when we were at the hills--oh, the most delightful little -affairs--every one used to look forward to them." - -Mrs. Crawford laughed gently as she patted Lottie on the cheek. "Ah, -they were now and again successes, were they not? How I wish Daireen had -been with us." - -"Egad, she would not be with us now, my dear," said the major. "Eh, -George, what do you say, my boy?" - -"For shame, major," cried Mrs. Crawford, glancing towards Lottie. - -"Eh, what?" said the bewildered Boot Commissioner, who meant to be very -gallant indeed. It was some moments before he perceived how Miss Vincent -could construe his words, and then he attempted an explanation, which -made matters worse. "My dear, I assure you I never meant that your -attractions were not--not--ah--most attractive, they were, I assure -you--you were then most attractive." - -"And so far from having waned," said Colonel Gerald, "it would seem that -every year has but----" - -"Why, what on earth is the meaning of this raid of compliments on poor -little me?" cried the young lady in the most artless manner, glancing -from the major to the colonel with uplifted hands. - -"Let us hasten to the carriages, and leave these old men to talk their -nonsense to each other," said Mrs. Crawford, putting her arm about one -of the daughters of the member of the Legislative Council--a young lady -who had found the companionship of Standish Macnamara quite as pleasant -as her sister had the guidance of the judge's son up the ravine--and so -they descended to where the carriages were waiting to take them towards -Cape Town. Daireen and her father were to walk to the Dutch cottage, -which was but a short distance away, and with them, of course, Standish. - -"Good-bye, my dear child," said Mrs. Crawford, embracing Daireen, while -the others talked in a group. "You are looking pale, dear, but never -mind; I will drive out and have a long chat with you in a couple of -days," she whispered, in a way she meant to be particularly impressive. - -Then the carriage went off, and Daireen put her hand through her -father's arm, and walked silently in the silent evening to the house -among the aloes and Australian oaks, through whose leaves the fireflies -were flitting in myriads. - -"She is a good woman," said Colonel Gerald. "An exceedingly good woman, -only her long experience of the sort of girls who used to be sent out to -her at India has made her rather misjudge the race, I think." - -"She is so good," said Daireen. "Think of all the trouble she was at -to-day for our sake." - -"Yes, for our sake," laughed her father. "My dear Dolly, if you could -only know the traditions our old station retains of Mrs. Crawford, you -would think her doubly good. The trouble she has gone to for the sake of -her friends--her importations by every mail--is simply astonishing. But -what did you think of that charming Miss Van der Veldt you took such -care of, Standish, my boy? Did you make much progress in Cape Dutch?" - -But Standish could not answer in the same strain of pleasantry. He was -thinking too earnestly upon the visions his fancy had been conjuring up -during the entire evening--visions of Mr. Glaston sitting by the side -of Daireen gazing out to that seductive, though by no means uncommon, -phenomenon of sunset. He had often wished, when at the waterfall -gathering Venus-hair for Miss Van der Veldt, that he could come into -possession of the power of Joshua at the valley of Gibeon to arrest -the descent of the orb. The possibly disastrous consequences to -the planetary system seemed to him but trifling weighed against the -advantages that would accrue from the fact of Mr. Glaston's being -deprived of a source of conversation that was both fruitful and -poetical. Standish knew well, without having read Wordsworth, that the -twilight was sovereign of one peaceful hour; he had in his mind quite a -store of unuttered poetical observations upon sunset, and he felt that -Mr. Glaston might possibly be possessed of similar resources which he -could draw upon when occasion demanded such a display. The thought of -Mr. Glaston sitting at the feet of Daireen, and with her drinking in of -the glory of the west, was agonising to Standish, and so he could not -enter into Colonel Gerald's pleasantry regarding the attractive daughter -of the member of the Legislative Council. - -When Daireen had shut the door of her room that night and stood alone in -the darkness, she found the relief that she had been seeking since she -had come down from the slope of that great Peak--relief that could not -be found even in the presence of her father, who had been everything to -her a few days before. She found relief in being alone with her thoughts -in the silence of the night. She drew aside the curtains of her window, -and looked out up to that Peak which was towering amongst the brilliant -stars. She could know exactly the spot upon the edge of the ravine where -she had been sitting--where they had been sitting. What did it all mean? -she asked herself. She could not at first recollect any of the words -she had heard upon that slope, she could not even think what they should -mean, but she had a childlike consciousness of happiness mixed with -fear. What was the mystery that had been unfolded to her up there? What -was the revelation that had been made to her? She could not tell. It -seemed wonderful to her how she could so often have looked up to that -hill without feeling anything of what she now felt gazing up to its -slope. - -It was all too wonderful for her to understand. She had a consciousness -of nothing but that all was wonderful. She could not remember any of his -words except those he had last uttered. The bond between them--was it -of love? How could she tell? What did she know of love? She could not -answer him when he had spoken to her, nor was she able even now, as she -stood looking out to those brilliant stars that crowned the Peak and -studded the dark edges of the slope which had been lately overspread -with the poppy-petals of sunset. It was long before she went into her -bed, but she had arrived at no conclusion to her thoughts--all that -had happened seemed mysterious; and she knew not whether she felt happy -beyond all the happiness she had ever known, or sad beyond the sadness -of any hour of her life. Her sleep swallowed up all her perplexity. - -But the instant she awoke in the bright morning she went softly over to -the window and looked out from a corner of her blind to that slope and -to the place where they had sat. No, it was not a dream. There shone -the silver leaves and there sparkled the waterfall. It was the loveliest -hill in the world, she felt--lovelier even than the purple heather-clad -Slieve Docas. This was a terrible thought to suggest itself to her mind, -she felt all the time she was dressing, but still it remained with her -and refused to be shaken off. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - - -```Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice - -`````... her election - -```Hath sealed thee for herself.= - -```Adieu, adieu, adieu! Remember me.= - -```Yea, from the table of my memory - -```I'll wipe away all trivial fond records... - -```That youth and observation copied there, - -```And thy commandment all alone shall live - -```Unmixed with baser matter; yes, by heaven!--_Hamlet_.= - - -|COLONEL Gerald was well aware of Mrs. Crawford's strategical skill, and -he had watched its development and exercise during the afternoon of that -pleasant little luncheon party on the hill. He remembered what she had -said to him so gravely at the garden-party at Government House regarding -the responsibility inseparable from the guardianship of Daireen at the -Cape, and he knew that Mrs. Crawford had in her mind, when she organised -the party to the hill, such precepts as she had previously enunciated. -He had watched and admired her cleverness in arranging the collecting -expeditions, and he felt that her detaining of Mr. Glaston as she had -under some pretext until all the others but Daireen had gone up -the ravine was a master stroke. But at this point Colonel Gerald's -observation ended. His imagination had been much less vivid than either -Mrs. Crawford's or Standish's. He did not attribute any subtle influence -to the setting sun, nor did he conjure up any vision of Mr. Glaston -sitting at the feet of Daireen and uttering words that the magic of the -sunset glories alone could inspire. - -The fact was that he knew much better than either Mrs. Crawford or -Standish how his daughter felt towards Mr. Glaston, and he was not in -the least concerned in the result of her observation of the glowing west -by the side of the Art prophet. When Mrs. Crawford looked narrowly into -the girl's face on her descent Colonel Gerald had only laughed; he did -not feel any distressing weight of responsibility on the subject of the -guardianship of his daughter, for he had not given a single thought -to the accident of his daughter's straying up the ravine with Algernon -Glaston, nor was he impressed by his daughter's behaviour on the day -following. They had driven out together to pay some visits, and she had -been even more affectionate to him than usual, and he justified -Mrs. Crawford's accusation of his ignorance and the ignorance of men -generally, by feeling, from this fact, more assured that Daireen had -passed unscathed through the ordeal of sunset and the drawing on of -twilight on the mount. - -On the next day to that on which they had paid their visits, however, -Daireen seemed somewhat abstracted in her manner, and when her father -asked her if she would ride with him and Standish to The Flats she, for -the first time, brought forward a plea--the plea of weariness--to be -allowed to remain at home. - -Her father looked at her, not narrowly nor with the least glance of -suspicion, only tenderly, as he said: - -"Certainly, stay at home if you wish, Dolly. You must not overtax -yourself, or we shall have to get a nurse for you." - -He sat by her side on the chair on the stoep of the Dutch cottage and -put his arm about her. In an instant she had clasped him round the neck -and had hidden her face upon his shoulder in something like hysterical -passion. He laughed and patted her on the back in mock protest at her -treatment. It was some time before she unwound her arms and he got upon -his feet, declaring that he would not submit to such rough handling. -But all the same he saw that her eyes were full of tears; and as he rode -with Standish over the sandy plain made bright with heath, he thought -more than once that there was something strange in her action and still -stranger in her tears. - -Standish, however, felt equal to explaining everything that seemed -unaccountable. He felt there could be no doubt that Daireen was wearying -of these rides with him: he was nothing more than a brother--a dull, -wearisome, commonplace brother to her, while such fellows as Glaston, -who had made fame for themselves, having been granted the opportunity -denied to others, were naturally attractive to her. Feeling this, -Standish once more resolved to enter upon that enterprise of work which -he felt to be ennobling. He would no longer linger here in silken-folded -idleness, he would work--work--work--steadfastly, nobly, to win her who -was worth all the labour of a man's life. Yes, he would no longer -remain inactive as he had been, he would--well, he lit another cigar and -trotted up to the side of Colonel Gerald. - -But Daireen, after the departure of her father and Standish, continued -sitting upon the chair under the lovely creeping plants that twined -themselves around the lattice of the projecting roof. It was very cool -in the gracious shade while all the world outside was red with heat. The -broad leaves of the plants in the garden were hanging languidly, and the -great black bees plunged about the mighty roses that were bursting into -bloom with the first breath of the southern summer. From the brink of -the little river at the bottom of the avenue of Australian oaks the -chatter of the Hottentot washerwomen came, and across the intervening -space of short tawny grass a Malay fruitman passed, carrying his baskets -slung on each end of a bamboo pole across his shoulders. - -She looked out at the scene--so strange to her even after the weeks she -had been at this place; all was strange to her--as the thoughts that -were in her mind. It seemed to her that she had been but one day at this -place, and yet since she had heard the voice of Oswin Markham how great -a space had passed! All the days she had been here were swallowed up in -the interval that had elapsed since she had seen this man--since she had -seen him? Why, there he was before her very eyes, standing by the side -of his horse with the bridle over his arm. There he was watching her -while she had been thinking her thoughts. - -She stood amongst the blossoms of the trellis, white and lovely as a -lily in a land of red sun. He felt her beauty to be unutterably gracious -to look upon. He threw his bridle over a branch and walked up to her. - -"I have come to say good-bye," he said as he took her hand. - -These were the same words that she had heard from Harwood a few days -before and that had caused her to smile. But now the hand Markham was -not holding was pressed against her heart. Now she knew all. There -was no mystery between them. She knew why her heart became still after -beating tumultuously for a few seconds; and he, though he had not -designed the words with the same object that Harwood had, and though -he spoke them without the same careful observance of their effect, in -another instant had seen what was in the girl's heart. - -"To say good-bye?" she repeated mechanically. - -"For a time, yes; for a long time it will seem to me--for a month." - -He saw the faint smile that came to her face, and how her lips parted as -a little sigh of relief passed through them. - -"For a month?" she said, and now she was speaking in her own voice, -and sitting down. "A month is not a long time to say good-bye for, Mr. -Markham. But I am so sorry that papa is gone out for his ride on The -Flats." - -"I am fortunate in finding even you here, then," he said. - -"Fortunate! Yes," she said. "But where do you mean to spend this month?" -she continued, feeling that he was now nothing more than a visitor. - -"It is very ridiculous--very foolish," he replied. "I promised, you -know, to act in some entertainment Miss Vincent has been getting up, and -only yesterday her father received orders to proceed to Natal; but as -all the fellows who had promised her to act are in the company of the -Bayonetteers that has also been ordered off, no difference will be -made in her arrangements, only that the performance will take place at -Pietermaritzburg instead of at Cape Town. But she is so unreasonable -as to refuse to release me from my promise, and I am bound to go with -them." - -"It is a compliment to value your services so highly, is it not?" - -"I would be glad to sacrifice all the gratification I find from thinking -so for the sake of being released. She is both absurd and unreasonable." - -"So it would certainly strike any one hearing only of this," said -Daireen. "But it will only be for a month, and you will see the place." - -"I would rather remain seeing this place," he said. "Seeing that hill -above us." She flushed as though he had told her in those words that he -was aware of how often she had been looking up to that slope since they -had been there together---- - -There was a long pause, through which the voices and laughter of the -women at the river-bank were heard. - -"Daireen," said the man, who stood up bareheaded before her. "Daireen, -that hour we sat up there upon that slope has changed all my thoughts -of life. I tell you the life which you restored to me a month ago I -had ceased to regard as a gift. I had come to hope that it would end -speedily. You cannot know how wretched I was." - -"And now?" she said, looking up to him. "And now?" - -"Now," he answered. "Now--what can I tell you? If I were to be cut off -from life and happiness now, I should stand before God and say that I -have had all the happiness that can be joined to one life on earth. I -have had that one hour with you, and no God or man can take it from me: -I have lived that hour, and none can make me unlive it. I told you I -would say no word of love to you then, but I have come to say the word -now. Child, I dared not love you as I was--I had no thought worthy to -be devoted to loving you. God knows how I struggled with all my soul to -keep myself from doing you the injustice of thinking of you; but that -hour at your feet has given me something of your divine nature, and with -that which I have caught from you, I can love you. Daireen, will you -take the love I offer you? It it yours--all yours." - -He was not speaking passionately, but when she looked up and saw his -face haggard with earnestness she was almost frightened--she would -have been frightened if she had not loved him as she now knew she did. -"Speak," he said, "speak to me--one word." - -"One word?" she repeated. "What one word can I say?" - -"Tell me all that is in your heart, Daireen." - -She looked up to him again. "All?" she said with a little smile. "All? -No, I could never tell you all. You know a little of it. That is the -bond between us." - -He turned away and actually took a few steps from her. On his face was -an expression that could not easily have been read. But in an instant he -seemed to recover himself. He took her hand in his. - -"My darling," he said, "the Past has buried its dead. I shall make -myself worthy to think of you--I swear it to you. You shall have a true -man to love." He was almost fierce in his earnestness, and her hand that -he held was crushed for an instant. Then he looked into her face with -tenderness. "How have you come to answer my love with yours?" he said -almost wonderingly. "What was there in me to make you think of my -existence for a single instant?" - -She looked at him. "You were--_you_," she said, offering him the only -explanation in her power. It had seemed to her easy enough to explain as -she looked at him. Who else was worth loving with this love in all the -world, she thought. He alone was worthy of all her heart. - -"My darling, my darling," he said, "I am unworthy to have a single -thought of you." - -"You are indeed if you continue talking so," she said with a laugh, for -she felt unutterably happy. - -"Then I will not talk so. I will make myself worthy to think of you -by--by--thinking of you. For a month, Daireen,--for a month we can only -think of each other. It is better that I should not see you until the -last tatter of my old self is shred away." - -"It cannot be better that you should go away," she said. "Why should you -go away just as we are so happy?" - -"I must go, Daireen," he said. "I must go--and now. I would to God I -could stay! but believe me, I cannot, darling; I feel that I must go." - -"Because you made that stupid promise?" she said. - -"That promise is nothing. What is such a promise to me now? If I had -never made it I should still go." - -He was looking down at her as he spoke. "Do not ask me to say anything -more. There is nothing more to be said. Will you forget me in a month, -do you think?" - -Was it possible that there was a touch of anxiety in the tone of his -question? she thought for an instant. Then she looked into his face and -laughed. - -"God bless you, Daireen!" he said tenderly, and there was sadness rather -than passion in his voice. - -"God keep you, Daireen! May nothing but happiness ever come to you!" - -He held out his hand to her, and she laid her own trustfully in his. - -"Do not say good-bye," she pleaded. "Think that it is only for a -month--less than a month, it must be. You can surely be back in less -than a month." - -"I can," he replied; "I can, and I will be back within a month, and -then---- God keep you, Daireen, for ever!" - -He was holding her hand in his own with all gentleness. His face was -bent down close to hers, but he did not kiss her face, only her hand. -He crushed it to his lips, and then dropped it. She was blinded with -her tears, so that she did not see him hasten away through the avenue of -oaks. She did not even hear his horse's tread, nor could she know that -he had not once turned round to give her a farewell look. - -It was some minutes before she seemed to realise that she was alone. She -sprang to her feet and stood looking out over those deathly silent -broad leaves, and those immense aloes, that seemed to be the plants in -a picture of a strange region. She heard the laughter of the Hottentot -women at the river, and the unmusical shriek of a bird in the distance. -She clasped her hands over her head, looking wistfully through the -foliage of the oaks, but she did not utter a word. He was gone, she knew -now, for she felt a loneliness that overwhelmed every other feeling. -She seemed to be in the middle of a bare and joyless land. The splendid -shrubs that branched before her eyes seemed dead, and the silence of the -warm scented air was a terror to her. - -He was gone, she knew, and there was nothing left for her but this -loneliness. She went into her room in the cottage and seated herself -upon her little sofa, hiding her face in her hands, and she felt it good -to pray for him--for this man whom she had come to love, she knew not -how. But she knew she loved him so that he was a part of her own life, -and she felt that it would always be so. She could scarcely think what -her life had been before she had seen him. How could she ever have -fancied that she loved her father before this man had taught her what it -was to love? Now she felt how dear beyond all thought her father was to -her. It was not merely love for himself that she had learnt from Oswin -Markham, it was the power of loving truly and perfectly that he had -taught her. - -Thus she dreamed until she heard the pleasant voice of her friend Mrs. -Crawford in the hall. Then she rose and wondered if every one would not -notice the change that had passed over her. Was it not written upon her -face? Would not every touch of her hand--every word of her voice, betray -it? - -Then she lifted up her head and felt equal to facing even Mrs. Crawford, -and to acknowledging all that she believed the acute observation of that -lady would read from her face as plainly as from the page of a book. - -But it seemed that Mrs. Crawford's eyes were heavy this afternoon, -for though she looked into Daireen's face and kissed her cheek -affectionately, she made no accusation. - -"I am lucky in finding you all alone, my dear," she said. "It is so -different ashore from aboard ship. I have not really had one good chat -with you since we landed. George is always in the way, or the major, you -know--ah, you think I should rather say the colonel and Jack, but indeed -I think of your father only as Lieutenant George. And you enjoyed our -little lunch on the hill, I hope? I thought you looked pale when you -came down. Was it not a most charming sunset?" - -"It was indeed," said Daireen, straining her eyes to catch a glimpse -through the window of the slope where the red light had rested. - -"I knew you would enjoy it, my dear. Mr. Glaston is such good -company--ah, that is, of course, to a sympathetic mind. And I don't -think I am going too far, Daireen, when I say that I am sure he was in -company with a sympathetic mind the evening before last." - -Mrs. Crawford was smiling as one smiles passing a graceful compliment. - -"I think he was," said Daireen. "Miss Vincent and he always seemed -pleased with each other's society." - -"Miss Vincent?--Lottie Vincent?" cried the lady in a puzzled but -apprehensive way. "What do you mean, Daireen? Lottie Vincent?" - -"Why, you know Mr. Glaston and Miss Vincent went away from us, among the -silver leaves, and only returned as we were coming down the hill." - -Mrs. Crawford was speechless for some moments. Then she looked at the -girl, saying, "_We_,--who were _we?_" - -"Mr. Markham and myself," replied Daireen without faltering. - -"Ah, indeed," said the other pleasantly. Then there was a pause before -she added, "That ends my association with Lottie Vincent. The artful, -designing little creature! Daireen, you have no idea what good nature it -required on my part to take any notice of that girl, knowing so much as -I do of her; and this is how she treats me! Never mind; I have done with -her." Seeing the girl's puzzled glance, Mrs. Crawford began to recollect -that it could not be expected that Daireen should understand the nature -of Lottie's offence; so she added, "I mean, you know, dear, that that -girl is full of spiteful, designing tricks upon every occasion. And -yet she had the effrontery to come to me yesterday to beg of me to take -charge of her while her father would be at Natal. But I was not quite so -weak. Never mind; she leaves tomorrow, thank goodness, and that is the -last I mean to see of her. But about Mr. Markham: I hope you do not -think I had anything to say in the matter of letting you be with him, -Daireen. I did not mean it, indeed." - -"I am sure of it," said Daireen quietly--so quietly that Mrs. Crawford -began to wonder could it be possible that the girl wished to show that -she had been aware of the plans which had been designed on her behalf. -Before she had made up her mind, however, the horses of Colonel Gerald -and Standish were heard outside, and in a moment afterwards the colonel -entered the room. - -"Papa," said Daireen almost at once, "Mr. Markham rode out to see you -this afternoon." - -"Ah, indeed? I am sorry I missed him," he said quietly. But Mrs. -Crawford stared at the girl, wondering what was coming. - -"He came to say good-bye, papa." - -Mrs. Crawford's heart began to beat again. - -"What, is he returning to England?" asked the colonel. - -"Oh, no; he is only about to follow Mr. Harwood's example and go up to -Natal." - -"Then he need not have said good-bye, anymore than Harwood," remarked -the colonel; and his daughter felt it hard to restrain herself from -throwing her arms about his neck. - -"Ah," said Mrs. Crawford, "Miss Lottie has triumphed! This Mr. Markham -will go up in the steamer with her, and will probably act with her in -this theatrical nonsense she is always getting up." - -"He is to act with her certainly," said Daireen. "Ah! Lottie has made -a success at last," cried the elder lady. "Mr. Markham will suit her -admirably. They will be engaged before they reach Algoa Bay." - -"My dear Kate, why will you always jump at conclusions?" said the -colonel. "Markham is a fellow of far too much sense to be in the least -degree led by such a girl as Lottie." - -Daireen had hold of her father's arm, and when he had spoken she turned -round and kissed him. But it was not at all unusual for her to kiss him -in this fashion on his return from a ride. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - - -```Haply the seas and countries different - -```With variable objects shall expel - -```This something-settled matter in his heart, - -```Whereon his brain still beating puts him thus - -```From fashion of himself.--_Hamlet_ - - -|HE had got a good deal to think about, this Mr. Oswin Markham, as he -stood on the bridge of the steamer that was taking him round the coast -to Natal, and looked back at that mountain whose strange shape had never -seemed stranger than it did from the distance of the Bay. - -Table Mountain was of a blue dimness, and the white walls of the houses -at its base were quite hidden; Robbin Island lighthouse had almost -dwindled out of sight; and in the water, through the bright red gold -shed from a mist in the west that the falling sun saturated with light, -were seen the black heads of innumerable seals swimming out from the -coastway of rocks. Yes, Mr. Oswin Markham had certainly a good deal -to think about as he looked back to the flat-ridged mountain, and, -mentally, upon all that had taken place since he had first seen its -ridges a few weeks before. - -He had thought it well to talk of love to that girl who had given him -the gift of the life he was at present breathing--to talk to her of love -and to ask her to love him. Well, he had succeeded; she had put her hand -trustfully in his and had trusted him with all her heart, he knew; and -yet the thought of it did not make him happy. His heart was not the -heart of one who has triumphed. It was only full of pity for the girl -who had listened to him and replied to him. - -And for himself he felt what was more akin to shame than any other -feeling--shame, that, knowing all he did of himself, he had still spoken -those words to the girl to whom he owed the life that was now his. - -"God! was it not forced upon me when I struggled against it with all my -soul?" he said, in an endeavour to strangle his bitter feeling. "Did not -I make up my mind to leave the ship when I saw what was coming upon me, -and was I to be blamed if I could not do so? Did not I rush away from -her without a word of farewell? Did not we meet by chance that night in -the moonlight? Were those words that I spoke to her thought over? -Were not they forced from me against my own will, and in spite of my -resolution?" There could be no doubt that if any one acquainted with -all the matters to which he referred had been ready to answer him, -a satisfactory reply would have been received by him to each of his -questions. But though, of course, he was aware of this, yet he seemed to -find it necessary to alter the ground of the argument he was advancing -for his own satisfaction. "I have a right to forget the wretched past," -he said, standing upright and looking steadfastly across the glowing -waters. "Have not I died for the past? Is not this life a new one? It -is God's justice that I am carrying out by forgetting all. The past is -past, and the future in all truth and devotion is hers." - -There were, indeed, some moments of his life--and the present was one of -them--when he felt satisfied in his conscience by assuring himself, as -he did now, that as God had taken away all remembrance of the past -from many men who had suffered the agonies of death, he was therefore -entitled to let his past life and its recollections drift away on that -broken mast from which he had been cut in the middle of the ocean; but -the justice of the matter had not occurred to him when he got that bank -order turned into money at the Cape, nor at the time when he had written -to the agents of his father's property in England, informing them of -his escape. He now stood up and spoke those words of his, and felt their -force, until the sun, whose outline had all the afternoon been undefined -in the mist, sank beneath the horizon, and the gorgeous colours drifted -round from his sinking place and dwindled into the dark green of the -waters. He watched the sunset, and though Lottie Vincent came to his -side in her most playful mood, her fresh and artless young nature found -no response to its impulses in him. She turned away chilled, but no more -discouraged than a little child, who, desirous of being instructed -on the secret of the creative art embodied in the transformation of a -handkerchief into a rabbit, finds its mature friend reflecting upon a -perplexing point in the theory of Unconscious Cerebration. Lottie knew -that her friend Mr. Oswin Markham sometimes had to think about matters -of such a nature as caused her little pleasantries to seem incongruous. -She thought that now she had better turn to a certain Lieutenant -Clifford, who, she knew, had no intricate mental problems to work out; -and she did turn to him, with great advantage to herself, and, no doubt, -to the officer as well. However forgetful Oswin Markham may have been -of his past life, he could still recollect a few generalities that had -struck him in former years regarding young persons of a nature similar -to this pretty little Miss Vincent's. She had insisted on his fulfilling -his promise to act with her, and he would fulfil it with a good grace; -but at this point his contract terminated; he would not be tempted into -making another promise to her which he might find much more embarrassing -to carry out with consistency. - -It had been a great grief to Lottie to be compelled, through the -ridiculous treatment of her father by the authorities in ordering him -to Natal, to transfer her dramatic entertainment from Cape Town to -Pietermaritzburg. However, as she had sold a considerable number of -tickets to her friends, she felt that "the most deserving charity," the -augmentation of whose funds was the avowed object of the entertainment, -would be benefited in no inconsiderable degree by the change of venue. -If the people of Pietermaritzburg would steadfastly decline to supply -her with so good an audience as the Cape Town people, there still would -be a margin of profit, since her friends who had bought tickets on the -understanding that the performance would take place where it was at -first intended, did not receive their money back. How could they expect -such a concession, Lottie asked, with innocent indignation; and begged -to be informed if it was her fault that her father was ordered to Natal. -Besides this one unanswerable query, she reminded those who ventured to -make a timid suggestion regarding the returns, that it was in aid of a -most deserving charity the tickets had been sold, so that it would be an -act of injustice to give back a single shilling that had been paid for -the tickets. Pursuing this very excellent system, Miss Lottie had to the -credit of the coming performance a considerable sum which would provide -against the contingencies of a lack of dramatic enthusiasm amongst the -inhabitants of Pietermaritzburg. - -It was at the garden-party at Government House that Markham had by -accident mentioned to Lottie that he had frequently taken part in -dramatic performances for such-like objects as Lottie's was designed to -succour, and though he at first refused to be a member, of her company, -yet at Mrs. Crawford's advocacy of the claims of the deserving object, -he had agreed to place his services and experience at the disposal of -the originator of the benevolent scheme. - -At Cape Town he had not certainly thrown himself very heartily into the -business of creating a part in the drama which had been selected. He was -well aware that if a good performance of the nature designed by Lottie -is successful, a bad performance is infinitely more so; and that any -attempt on the side of an amateur to strike out a new character from an -old part is looked upon with suspicion, and is generally attended with -disaster; so he had not given himself any trouble in the matter. - -"My dear Miss Vincent," he had said in reply to a pretty little -remonstrance from the young lady, "the department of study requiring -most attention in a dramatic entertainment of this sort is the -financial. Sell all the tickets you can, and you will be a greater -benefactress to the charity than if you acted like a Kemble." - -Lottie had taken his advice; but still she made up her mind that Mr. -Markham's name should be closely associated with the entertainment, and -consequently, with her own name. Had she not been at pains to put into -circulation certain stories of the romance surrounding him, and -thus disposed of an unusual number of stalls? For even if one is not -possessed of any dramatic inclinations, one is always ready to pay a -price for looking at a man who has been saved from a shipwreck, or who -has been the co-respondent in some notorious law case. - -When the fellows of the Bayonetteers, who had been indulging in a number -of surmises regarding Lottie's intentions with respect to Markham, -heard that the young lady's father had been ordered to proceed to -Natal without delay, the information seemed to give them a good deal -of merriment. The man who offered four to one that Lottie should not be -able to get any lady friend to take charge of her in Cape Town until her -father's return, could get no one to accept his odds; but his proposal -of three to one that she would get Markham to accompany her to Natal was -eagerly taken up; so that there were several remarks made at the mess -reflecting upon the acuteness of Mr. Markham's perception when it was -learned that he was going with the young lady and her father. - -"You see," remarked the man who had laid the odds, "I knew something of -Lottie in India, and I knew what she was equal to." - -"Lottie is a devilish smart child, by Jove," said one of the losers -meditatively. - -"Yes, she has probably cut her eye-teeth some years ago," hazarded -another subaltern. - -There was a considerable pause before a third of this full bench -delivered final judgment as the result of the consideration of the case. - -"Poor beggar!" he remarked; "poor beggar! he's a finished coon." - -And that Mr. Oswin Markham was, indeed, a man whose career had been -defined for him by another in the plainest possible manner, no member of -the mess seemed to doubt. - -During the first couple of days of the voyage round the coast, when Miss -Lottie would go to the side of Mr. Markham for the purpose of consulting -him on some important point of detail in the intended performance, -the shrewd young fellows of the regiment of Bayonetteers pulled their -phantom shreds of moustaches, and brought the muscles of their faces -about the eyes into play to a remarkable extent, with a view of assuring -one another of the possession of an unusual amount of sagacity by -the company to which they belonged. But when, after the third day -of rehearsals. Lottie's manner of gentle persuasiveness towards them -altered to nasty bitter upbraidings of the young man who had committed -the trifling error of overlooking an entire scene here and there in -working out the character he was to bring before the audience, and to a -most hurtful glance of scorn at the other aspirant who had marked off in -the margin of his copy of the play all the dialogue he was to speak, -but who, unfortunately, had picked up a second copy belonging to a young -lady in which another part had been similarly marked, so that he had, -naturally enough, perfected himself in the dialogue of the lady's rle -without knowing a letter of his own--when, for such trifling slips as -these, Lottie was found to be so harsh, the deep young fellows made -their facial muscles suggest a doubt as to whether it might not be -possible that Markham was of a sterner and less malleable nature then -they had at first believed him. - -The fact was that since Lottie had met with Oswin Markham she had been -in considerable perplexity of mind. She had found out that he was in by -no means indigent circumstances; but even with her guileless, careless -perceptions, she was not long in becoming aware that he was not likely -to be moulded according to her desires; so, while still behaving in a -fascinating manner towards him, she had had many agreeable half-hours -with Mr. Glaston, who was infinitely more plastic, she could see; but -so soon as the order had come for her father to go up to Natal she had -returned in thought to Oswin Markham, and had smiled to see the grins -upon the expressive faces of the officers of the Bayonetteers when -she found herself by the side of Oswin Markham. She rather liked these -grins, for she had an idea--in her own simple way, of course--that there -is a general tendency on the part of young people to associate when -their names have been previously associated. She knew that the fact of -her having persuaded this Mr. Markham to accompany her to Natal would -cause his name to be joined with hers pretty frequently, and in her -innocence she had no objection to make to this. - -As for Markham himself, he knew perfectly well what remarks people would -make on the subject of his departure in the steamer with Lottie Vincent; -he knew before he had been a day on the voyage that the Bayonetteers -regarded him as somewhat deficient in firmness; but he felt that there -was no occasion for him to be utterly broken down in spirit on account -of this opinion being held by the Bayonetteers. He was not so blind but -that he caught a glimpse now and again of a facial distortion on the -part of a member of the company. He felt that it was probable these -far-seeing fellows would be disappointed at the result of their -surmises. - -And indeed the fellows of the regiment were beginning, before the voyage -was quite over, to feel that this Mr. Oswin Markham was not altogether -of the yielding nature which they had ascribed to him on the grounds of -his having promised Lottie Vincent to accompany her and her father -to Natal at this time. About Lottie herself there was but one opinion -expressed, and that was of such a character as any one disposed to -ingratiate himself with the girl by means of flattery would hardly have -hastened to communicate to her; for the poor little thing had been so -much worried of late over the rehearsals which she was daily conducting -aboard the steamer, that, failing to meet with any expression of -sympathy from Oswin Markham, she had spoken very freely to some of the -company in comment upon their dramatic capacity, and not even an amateur -actor likes to receive unreserved comment of an unfavourable character -upon his powers. - -"She is a confounded little humbug," said one of the subalterns to Oswin -in confidence on the last day of the voyage. "Hang me if I would have -had anything to say to this deuced mummery if I had known what sort of a -girl she was. By George, you should hear the stories Kirkham has on his -fingers' ends about her in India." - -Oswin laughed quietly. "It would be rash, if not cruel, to believe all -the stories that are told about girls in India," he said. "As for Miss -Vincent, I believe her to be a charming girl--as an actress." - -"Yes," said the lieutenant, who had not left his grinder on English -literature long enough to forget all that he had learned of the -literature of the past century--"yes; she is an actress among girls, and -a girl among actresses." - -"Good," said Oswin; "very good. What is it that somebody or other -remarked about Lord Chesterfield as a wit?" - -"Never mind," said the other, ceasing the laugh he had commenced. "What -I say about Lottie is true." - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - - -```This world is not for aye, nor'tis not strange - -```That even our loves should with our fortunes change; - -```For'tis a question left us yet to prove, - -```Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.= - -````Diseases desperate grown - -```By desperate appliance are relieved, - -```Or not at all. - -````... so you must take your husbands.= - -```It is our trick. Nature her custom holds - -```Let shame say what it will: when these are gone - -```The woman will be out.--_Hamlet._= - - -|OF course," said Lottie, as she stood by the side of Oswin Markham -when the small steamer which had been specially engaged to take the -field-officers of the Bayonetteers over the dreaded bar of Durban -harbour was approaching the quay--"of course we shall all go together up -to Pietermaritzburg. I have been there before, you know. We shall have a -coach all to ourselves from Durban." She looked up to his face with only -the least questioning expression upon her own. But Mr. Markham thought -that he had made quite enough promises previously: it would be unwise -to commit himself even in so small a detail as the manner of the journey -from the port of Durban to the garrison town of Pietermaritzburg, which -he knew was at a distance of upwards of fifty miles. - -"I have not the least idea what I shall do when we land," he said. "It -is probable that I shall remain at the port for some days. I may as well -see all that there is on view in this part of the colony." - -This was very distressing to the young lady. - -"Do you mean to desert me?" she asked somewhat reproachfully. - -"Desert you?" he said in a puzzled way. "Ah, those are the words in a -scene in your part, are they not?" - -Lottie became irritated almost beyond the endurance of a naturally -patient soul. - -"Do you mean to leave me to stand alone against all my difficulties, Mr. -Markham?" - -"I should be sorry to do that, Miss Vincent. If you have difficulties, -tell me what they are; and if they are of such a nature that they can be -curtailed by me, you may depend upon my exerting myself." - -"You know very well what idiots these Bayonetteers are," cried Lottie. - -"I know that most of them have promised to act in your theatricals," -replied Markham quietly; and Lottie tried to read his soul in another of -her glances to discover the exact shade of the meaning of his words, but -she gave up the quest. - -"Of course you can please yourself, Mr. Markham," she said, with a -coldness that was meant to appal him. - -"And I trust that I may never be led to do so at the expense of -another," he remarked. - -"Then you will come in our coach?" she cried, brightening up. - -"Pray do not descend to particulars when we are talking in this vague -way on broad matters of sentiment, Miss Vincent." - -"But I must know what you intend to do at once." - -"At once? I intend to go ashore, and try if it is possible to get a -dinner worth eating. After that--well, this is Tuesday, and on Thursday -week your entertainment will take place; before that day you say -you want three rehearsals, then I will agree to be by your side at -Pietermaritzburg on Saturday next." - -This business-like arrangement was not what Lottie on leaving Cape Town -had meant to be the result of the voyage to Natal. There was a slight -pause before she asked: - -"What do you mean by treating me in this way? I always thought you were -my friend. What will papa say if you leave me to go up there alone?" - -This was a very daring bit of dialogue on the part of Miss Lottie, but -they were nearing the quay where she knew Oswin would be free; aboard -the mail steamer of course he was--well, scarcely free. But Mr. Markham -was one of those men who are least discomfited by a daring stroke. He -looked steadfastly at the girl so soon as she uttered her words. - -"The problem is too interesting to be allowed to pass, Miss Vincent," he -said. "We shall do our best to have it answered. By Jove, doesn't that -man on the quay look like Harwood? It is Harwood indeed, and I thought -him among the Zulus." - -The first man caught sight of on the quay was indeed the special -correspondent of the _Dominant Trumpeter_. Lottie's manner changed -instantly on seeing him, and she gave one of her girlish laughs on -noticing the puzzled expression upon his face as he replied to her -salutations while yet afar. She was very careful to keep by the side -of Oswin until the steamer was at the quay; and when at last Harwood -recognised the features of the two persons who had been saluting him, -she saw him look with a little smile first to herself, then to Oswin, -and she thought it prudent to give a small guilty glance downwards and -to repeat her girlish laugh. - -Oswin saw Harwood's glance and heard Lottie's laugh. He also heard the -young lady making an explanation of certain matters, to which Harwood -answered with a second little smile. - -"Kind? Oh, exceedingly kind of him to come so long a distance for the -sake of assisting you. Nothing could be kinder." - -"I feel it to be so indeed," said Miss Vincent. "I feel that I can never -repay Mr. Markham." - -Again that smile came to Mr. Harwood as he said: "Do not take such a -gloomy view of the matter, my dear Miss Vincent; perhaps on reflection -some means may be suggested to you." - -"What can you mean?" cried the puzzled little thing, tripping away. - -"Well, Harwood, in spite of your advice to me, you see I am here not -more than a week behind yourself." - -"And you are looking better than I could have believed possible for any -one in the condition you were in when I left," said Harwood. "Upon my -word, I did not expect much from you as I watched you go up the stairs -at the hotel after that wild ride of yours to and from no place in -particular. But, of course, there are circumstances under which fellows -look knocked up, and there are others that combine to make them seem -quite the contrary; now it seems to me you are subject to the influence -of the latter just at present." He glanced as if by accident over to -where Lottie was making a pleasant little fuss about some articles of -her luggage. - -"You are right," said Markham--"quite right. I have reason to be -particularly elated just now, having got free from that steamer and my -fellow-passengers." - -"Why, the fellows of the Bayonetteers struck me as being particularly -good company," said Harwood. - -"And so they were. Now I must look after this precious portmanteau of -mine." - -"And assist that helpless little creature to look after hers," muttered -Harwood when the other had left him. "Poor little Lottie! is it possible -that you have landed a prize at last? Well, no one will say that you -don't deserve something for your years of angling." - -Mr. Harwood felt very charitably inclined just at this instant, for his -reflections on the behaviour of Markham during the last few days they -had been at the same hotel at Cape Town had not by any means been -quieted since they had parted. He was sorry to be compelled to leave -Cape Town without making any discovery as to the mental condition of -Markham. Now, however, he knew that Markham had been strong enough to -come on to Natal, so that the searching out of the problem of his former -weakness would be as uninteresting as it would be unprofitable. If -there should chance to be any truth in that vague thought which had been -suggested to him as to the possibility of Markham having become attached -to Daireen Gerald, what did it matter now? Here was Markham, having -overcome his weakness, whatever it may have been, by the side of Lottie -Vincent; not indeed appearing to be in great anxiety regarding the -welfare of the young lady's luggage which was being evil-treated, but -still by her side, and this made any further thought on his behalf -unnecessary. - -Mr. Markham had given his portmanteau into the charge of one of the -Natal Zulus, and then he turned to Harwood. - -"You don't mind my asking you what you are doing at Durban instead of -being at the other side of the Tugela?" he said. - -"The Zulus of this province require to be treated of most carefully -in the first instance, before the great question of Zulus in their own -territory can be fully understood by the British public," replied the -correspondent. "I am at present making the Zulu of Durban my special -study. I suppose you will be off at once to Pietermaritzburg?" - -"No," said Markham. "I intend remaining at Durban to study the--the Zulu -characteristics for a few days." - -"But Lottie--I beg your pardon--Miss Vincent is going on at once." - -There was a little pause, during which Markham stared blankly at his -friend. - -"What on earth has that got to say to my remaining here?" he said. - -Harwood looked at him and felt that Miss Lottie was right, even on -purely artistic grounds, in choosing Oswin Markham as one of her actors. - -"Nothing--nothing of course," he replied to Markham's question. - -But Miss Lottie had heard more than a word of this conversation. She -tripped up to Mr. Harwood. - -"Why don't you make some inquiry about your old friends, you most -ungrateful of men?" she cried. "Oh, I have such a lot to tell you. -Dear old Mrs. Crawford was in great grief about your going away, you -know--oh, such great grief that she was forced to give a picnic the -second day after you left, for fear we should all have broken down -utterly." - -"That was very kind of Mrs. Crawford," said Harwood; "and it only -remains for me to hope fervently that the required effect was produced." - -"So far as I was concerned, it was," said Lottie. "But it would never do -for me to speak for other people." - -"Other people?" - -"Yes, other people--the charming Miss Gerald, for instance; I cannot -speak for her, but Mr. Markham certainly can, for he lay at her feet -during the entire of the afternoon when every one else had wandered -away up the ravine. Yes, Mr. Markham will tell you to a shade what her -feelings were upon that occasion. Now, bye-bye. You will come to our -little entertainment next week, will you not? And you will turn up on -Saturday for rehearsal?" she added, smiling at Oswin, who was looking -more stern than amused. "Don't forget--Saturday. You should be very -grateful for my giving you liberty for so long." - -Both men went ashore together without a word; nor did they fall at once -into a fluent chat when they set out for the town, which was more than -two miles distant; for Mr. Harwood was thinking out another of the -problems which seemed to suggest themselves to him daily from the fact -of his having an acute ear for discerning the shades of tone in which -his friends uttered certain phrases. He was just now engaged linking -fancy unto fancy, thinking if it was a little impulse of girlish -jealousy, meant only to give a mosquito-sting to Oswin Markham, that had -caused Miss Lottie Vincent to make that reference to Miss Gerald, or if -it was a piece of real bitterness designed to wound deeply. It was -an interesting problem, and Mr. Harwood worked at its solution very -patiently, weighing all his recollections of past words and phrases that -might tend to a satisfactory result. - -But the greatest amount of satisfaction was not afforded to Mr. Harwood -by the pursuit of the intricacies of the question he had set himself -to work out, but by the reflection that at any rate Markham's being at -Natal and not within easy riding distance of a picturesque Dutch cottage -at Mowbray, was a certain good. What did it signify now if Markham had -previously been too irresolute to tear himself away from the association -of that cottage? Had he not afterwards proved himself sufficiently -strong? And if this strength had come to him through any conversation -he might have had with Miss Gerald on the hillside to which Lottie -had alluded, or elsewhere, what business was it to anybody? Here was -Markham--there was Durban, and this was satisfactory. Only--what did -Lottie mean exactly by that little bit of spitefulness or bitterness? - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - - -``_Polonius_. The actors are come hither, my lord.= - -``_Hamlet_. Buz, buz.= - -``_Polonius_. Upon my honour.= - -``_Hamlet. Then came each actor on his ass._= - -``_Polonious_. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, -history, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, scene individable or -poem unlimited... these are the only men.= - -```Being thus benetted round with villanies,-- - -```Or I could make a prologue to my brains, - -```They had begun the play,--I sat me down. - -````... Wilt thou know - -```The effect...?--_Hamlet_.= - - -|UPON the evening of the Thursday week after the arrival of that -steamer with two companies of the Bayonetteers at Durban, the town of -Pietermaritzburg was convulsed with the prospect of the entertainment -that was to take place in its midst, for Miss Lottie Vincent had not -passed the preceding week in a condition of dramatic abstraction. -She was by no means so wrapped up in the part she had undertaken -to represent as to be unable to give the necessary attention to the -securing of an audience. - -It would seem to a casual _entrepreneur_ visiting Pietermaritzburg that -a large audience might be assured for an entertainment possessing even -the minimum of attractiveness, for the town appears to be of an immense -size--that is, for a South African town. The colonial Romulus and -Remus have shown at all times very lordly notions on the subject of -boundaries, and, being subject to none of those restrictions as to -the cost of every square foot of territory which have such a cramping -influence upon the founders of municipalities at home, they exercise -their grand ideas in the most extensive way. The streets of an early -colonial town are broad roads, and the spaces between the houses are so -great as almost to justify the criticism of those narrow-minded visitors -who call the town straggling. At one time Pietermaritzburg may have been -straggling, but it certainly did not strike Oswin Markham as being so -when he saw it now for the first time on his arrival. He felt that it -had got less of a Dutch look about it than Cape Town, and though that -towering and overshadowing impression which Table Mountain gives to Cape -Town was absent, yet the circle of hills about Pietermaritzburg seemed -to him--and his fancy was not particularly original--to give the town -almost that nestling appearance which by tradition is the natural -characteristic of an English village. - -But if an _entrepreneur_ should calculate the probable numerical value -of an audience in Pietermaritzburg from a casual walk through the -streets, he would find that his assumption had been founded upon -an erroneous basis. The streets are long and in fact noble, but the -inhabitants available for fulfilling the duties of an audience at a -dramatic entertainment are out of all proportion few. Two difficulties -are to be contended with in making up audiences in South Africa: the -first is getting the people in, and the second is keeping people out. As -a rule the races of different colour do not amalgamate with sufficient -ease to allow of a mixed audience being pervaded with a common sympathy. -A white man seated between a Hottentot and a Kafir will scarcely be -brought to admit that he has had a pleasant evening, even though the -performance on the stage is of a choice character. A single Zulu will -make his presence easily perceptible in a room full of white people, -even though he should remain silent and in a secluded corner; while a -Hottentot, a Kafir, and a Zulu constitute a _bouquet d'Afrique_, the -savour of which is apt to divert the attention of any one in their -neighbourhood from the realistic effect of a garden scene upon the -stage. - -Miss Lottie, being well aware that the audience-forming material in the -town was small in proportion to the extent of the streets, set herself -with her usual animation about the task of disposing of the remaining -tickets. She fancied that she understood something of the system to be -pursued with success amongst the burghers. She felt it to be her duty to -pay a round of visits to the houses where she had been intimate in the -days of her previous residence at the garrison; and she contrived to -impress upon her friends that the ties of old acquaintance should be -consolidated by the purchase of a number of her tickets. She visited -several families who, she knew, had been endeavouring for a long time -to work themselves into the military section of the town's society, and -after hinting to them that the officers of the Bayonetteers would -remain in the lowest spirits until they had made the acquaintance of the -individual members of each of those families, she invariably disposed of -a ticket to the individual member whose friendship was so longed for at -the garrison. As for the tradesmen of the town, she managed without any -difficulty, or even without forgetting her own standing, to make them -aware of the possible benefits that would accrue to the business of the -town under the patronage of the officers of the Bayonetteers; and so, -instead of having to beg of the tradesmen to support the deserving -charity on account of which she was taking such a large amount of -trouble, she found herself thanked for the permission she generously -accorded to these worthy men to purchase places for the evening. - -She certainly deserved well of the deserving charity, and the old -field-officers, who rolled their eyes and pulled their moustaches, -recollecting the former labours of Miss Lottie, had got as imperfect -a knowledge of the proportions of her toil and reward as the less -good-natured of their wives who alluded to the trouble she was taking as -if it was not wholly disinterested. Lottie certainly took a vast amount -of trouble, and if Oswin Markham only appeared at the beginning of each -rehearsal and left at the conclusion, the success of the performance was -not at all jeopardised by his action. - -For the entire week preceding the evening of the performance little -else was talked about in all sections of Maritzburgian society but the -prospects of its success. The ladies in the garrison were beginning -to be wearied of the topic of theatricals, and the colonel of the -Bayonetteers was heard to declare that he would not submit any longer to -have the regimental parades only half-officered day by day, and that -the plea of dramatic study would be insufficient in future to excuse -an absentee. But this vigorous action was probably accelerated by the -report that reached him of a certain lieutenant, who had only four lines -to speak in the play, having escaped duty for the entire week on the -grounds of the necessity for dramatic study. - -At last the final nail was put in the fastenings of the scenery on the -stage, which a number of the Royal Engineers, under the guidance of -two officers and a clerk of the works, had erected; the footlights were -after considerable difficulty coaxed into flame. The officers of the -garrison and their wives made an exceedingly good front row in the -stalls, and a number of the sergeants and privates filled up the back -seats, ready to applaud, without reference to their merits at the -performance, their favourite officers when they should appear on the -stage; the intervening seats were supposed to be booked by the general -audience, and their punctuality of attendance proved that Lottie's -labours had not been in vain. - -Mr. Harwood having tired of Durban, had been some days in the town, and -he walked from the hotel with Markham; for Mr. Markham, though the part -he was to play was one of most importance in the drama, did not think -it necessary to hang about the stage for the three hours preceding the -lifting of the curtain, as most of the Bayonetteers who were to act -believed to be prudent. Harwood took a seat in the second row of stalls, -for he had promised Lottie and one of the other young ladies who was -in the cast, to give each of them a candid opinion upon their -representations. For his own part he would have preferred giving his -opinion before seeing the representations, for he knew what a strain -would be put upon his candour after they were over. - -When the orchestra--which was a great feature of the performance--struck -up an overture, the stage behind the curtain was crowded with figures -in top-boots and with noble hats encircled with ostrich feathers--the -element of brigandage entering largely into the construction of the -drama of the evening. Each of the figures carried a small pamphlet which -he studied every now and again, for in spite of the many missed parades, -a good deal of uncertainty as to the text of their parts pervaded the -minds of the histrionic Bayonetteers. Before the last notes of the -overture had crashed, Lottie Vincent, radiant in pearl powder and -pencilled eyebrows, wearing a plain muslin dress and white satin shoes, -her fair hair with a lovely white rose shining amongst its folds, -tripped out. Her character in the first act being that of a simple -village maiden, she was dressed with becoming consistency, every detail -down to those white satin shoes being, of course, in keeping with the -ordinary attire of simple village maidens wherever civilisation has -spread. - -"For goodness' sake leave aside your books," she said to the young men -as she came forward. "Do you mean to bring them out with you and read -from them? Surely after ten rehearsals you might be perfect." - -"Hang me, if I haven't a great mind not to appear at all in this rot," -said one of the gentlemen in the top-boots to his companions. He had -caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror a minute previously and he did -not like the picture. "If it was not for the sake of the people who have -come I'd cut the whole affair." - -"She has done nothing but bully," remarked a second of these desperadoes -in top-boots. - -"All because that fellow Markham has shown himself to be no idiot," said -a third. - -"Count Rodolph loves her, but I'll spare him not: he dies to-night," -remarked another, but he was only refreshing his memory on the dialogue -he was to speak. - -When the gentleman who was acting as prompter saw that the stage was -cleared, he gave the signal for the orchestra to play the curtain up. At -the correct moment, and with a perfection of stage management that would -have been creditable to any dramatic establishment in the world, as -one of the Natal newspapers a few days afterwards remarked with great -justice, the curtain was raised, and an excellent village scene was -disclosed to the enthusiastic audience. Two of the personages came on -at once, and so soon as their identity was clearly established, the -soldiers began to applaud, which was doubtless very gratifying to -the two officers, from a regimental standpoint, though it somewhat -interfered with the progress of the scene. The prompter, however, -hastened to the aid of the young men who had lost themselves in that -whirlwind of applause, and the dialogue began to run easily. - -Lottie had made for herself a little loophole in the back drop-scene -through which she observed the audience. She saw that the place was -crowded to the doors--English-speaking and Dutch-speaking burghers -were in the central seats; she smiled as she noticed the aspirants to -garrison intimacies crowding up as close as possible to the officers' -wives in the front row, and she wondered if it would be necessary to -acknowledge any of them for longer than a week. Then she saw Harwood -with the faintest smile imaginable upon his face, as the young men on -the stage repeated the words of their parts without being guilty either -of the smallest mistake or the least dramatic spirit; and this time she -wondered if, when she would be going through her part and she would look -towards Harwood, she should find the same sort of smile upon his face. -She rather thought not. Then, as the time for her call approached, she -hastened round to her entrance, waiting until the poor stuff the two -young men were speaking came to an end; then, not a second past her -time, she entered, demure and ingenuous as all village maidens in satin -slippers must surely be. - -She was not disappointed in her reception by the audience. The ladies -in the front stalls who had spoken, it might be, unkindly of her in -private, now showed their good nature in public, and the field officers -forgot all the irregularities she had caused in the regiment and -welcomed her heartily; while the tradesmen in the middle rows made their -applause a matter of business. The village maiden with the satin shoes -smiled in the timid, fluttered, dovelike way that is common amongst the -class, and then went on with her dialogue. She felt altogether happy, -for she knew that the young lady who was to appear in the second scene -could not possibly meet with such an expression of good feeling as she -had obtained from the audience. - -And now the play might be said to have commenced in earnest. It was by -no means a piece of French frivolity, this drama, but a genuine work of -English art as it existed thirty years ago, and it was thus certain to -commend itself to the Pietermaritzburghers who liked solidity even when -it verged upon stolidity. - -_Throne or Spouse_ was the title of the play, and if its incidents were -somewhat improbable and its details utterly impossible, it was not the -less agreeable to the audience. The two young men who had appeared in -top-boots on the village green had informed each other, the audience -happily overhearing, that they had been out hunting with a certain -Prince, and that they had got separated from their companions. - -They embraced the moment as opportune for the discussion of a few court -affairs, such as the illness ot the monarch, and the Prince's prospects -of becoming his successor, and then they thought it would be as well to -try and find their way back to the court; so off they went. Then Miss -Vincent came on the village green and reminded herself that her name was -Marie and that she was a simple village maiden; she also recalled the -fact that she lived alone with her mother in Yonder Cottage. It seemed -to give her considerable satisfaction to reflect that, though poor, she -was, and she took it upon her to say that her mother was also, strictly -virtuous, and she wished to state in the most emphatic terms that though -she was wooed by a certain Count Rodolph, yet, as she did not love him, -she would never be his. Lottie was indeed very emphatic at this part, -and her audience applauded her determination as Marie. Curiously enough, -she had no sooner expressed herself in this fashion than one of the -Bayonetteers entered, and at the sight of him Lottie called out, "Ah, -he is here! Count Rodolph!" This the audience felt was a piece of subtle -constructive art on the part of the author. Then the new actor replied, -"Yes, Count Rodolph is here, sweet Marie, where he would ever be, by the -side of the fairest village maiden," etc. - -The new actor was attired in one of the broad hats of the -period--whatever it may have been--with a long ostrich feather. He had -an immense black moustache, and his eyebrows were exceedingly heavy. He -also wore top-boots, a long sword, and a black cloak, one fold of which -he now and again threw over his left shoulder when it worked its way -down his arm. It was not surprising that further on in the drama -the Count was found to be a dissembler; his costume fostered any -proclivities in this way that might otherwise have remained dormant. - -The village maiden begged to know why the Count persecuted her with his -attentions, and he replied that he did so on account of his love for -her. She then assured him that she could never bring herself to look -on him with favour; and this naturally drew from him the energetic -declaration of his own passion for her. He concluded by asking her to be -his: she cried with emphasis, "Never!" He repeated his application, and -again she cried "Never!" and told him to begone. "You shall be mine," he -cried, catching her by the arm. "Wretch, leave me," she said, in all her -village-maiden dignity; he repeated his assertion, and clasped her round -the waist with ardour. Then she shrieked for help, and a few simple -villagers rushed hurriedly on the stage, but the Count drew his sword -and threatened with destruction any one who might advance. The simple -villagers thought it prudent to retire. "Ha! now, proud Marie, you are -in my power," said the Count. "Is there no one to save me?" shrieked -Marie. "Yes, here is some one who will save you or perish in the -attempt," came a voice from the wings, and with an agitation pervading -the sympathetic orchestra, a respectable young man in a green -hunting-suit with a horn by his side and a drawn sword in his hand, -rushed on, and was received with an outburst of applause from the -audience who, in Pietermaritzburg, as in every place else, are ever on -the side of virtue. This new actor was Oswin Markham, and it seemed that -Lottie's stories regarding the romance associated with his appearance -were successful, for not only was there much applause, but a quiet hum -of remark was heard amongst the front stalls, and it was some moments -before the business of the stage could be proceeded with. - -So soon as he was able to speak, the Count wished to know who was the -intruder that dared to face one of the nobles of the land, and the -intruder replied in general terms, dwelling particularly upon the -fact that only those were noble who behaved nobly. He expressed an -inclination to fight with the Count, but the latter declined to -gratify him on account of the difference there was between their social -standing, and he left the stage saying, "Farewell, proud beauty, we -shall meet again." Then he turned to the stranger, and, laying his hand -on his sword-hilt after he had thrown his cloak over his shoulder, he -cried, "We too shall meet again." - -The stranger then made some remarks to himself regarding the manner in -which he was stirred by Marie's beauty. He asked her who she was, and -she replied, truthfully enough, that she was a simple village maiden, -and that she lived in Yonder Cottage. He then told her that he was a -member of the Prince's retinue, and that he had lost his way at the -hunt; and he begged the girl to conduct him to Yonder Cottage. The girl -expressed her pleasure at being able to show him some little attention, -but she remarked that the stranger would find Yonder Cottage very -humble. She assured him, however, of the virtue of herself, and again -went so far as to speak for her mother. The stranger then made a nice -little speech about the constituents of true nobility, and went out with -Marie as the curtain fell. - -The next scene was laid in Yonder Cottage; the virtuous mother being -discovered knitting, and whiling away the time by talking to herself -of the days when she was nurse to the late Queen. Then Marie and the -stranger entered, and there was a pleasant family party in Yonder -Cottage. The stranger was evidently struck with Marie, and the scene -ended by his swearing to make her his wife. The next act showed the -stranger in his true character as the Prince; his royal father has heard -of his attachment to Marie, and not being an enthusiast on the subject -of simple village maidens becoming allied to the royal house, he -threatens to cut off the entail of the kingdom--which it appeared he -had power to do--if the Prince does not relinquish Marie, and he dies -leaving a clause in his will to this effect. - -The Prince rushes to Yonder Cottage--hears that Marie is carried off -by the Count--rescues her--marries her--and then the virtuous mother -confesses that the Prince is her own child, and Marie is the heiress to -the throne. No one appeared to dispute the story--Marie is consequently -Queen and her husband King, having through his proper treatment of the -girl gained the kingdom; and the curtain falls on general happiness, -Count Rodolph having committed suicide. - -"Nothing could have been more successful," said Lottie, all tremulous -with excitement, to Oswin, as they went off together amid a tumult of -applause, which was very sweet to her ears. - -"I think it went off very well indeed," said Oswin. "Your acting was -perfection, Miss Vincent." - -"Call me Marie," she said playfully. "But we must really go before the -curtain; hear how they are applauding." - -"I think we have had enough of it," said Oswin. - -"Come along," she cried; "I dislike it above all things, but there is -nothing for it." - -The call for Lottie and Oswin was determined, so after the soldiers had -called out their favourite officers, Oswin brought the girl forward, and -the enthusiasm was very great. Lottie then went off, and for a few -moments Markham remained alone upon the stage. He was most heartily -applauded, and, after acknowledging the compliment, he was just stepping -back, when from the centre of the seats a man's voice came, loud and -clear: - -"Bravo, old boy! you're a trump wherever you turn up." - -There was a general moving of heads, and some laughter in the front -rows. - -But Oswin Markham looked from where he was standing on the stage down -to the place whence that voice seemed to come. He neither laughed nor -smiled, only stepped back behind the curtain. - -The stage was now crowded with the actors and their friends; everybody -was congratulating everybody else. Lottie was in the highest spirits. - -"Could anything have been more successful?" she cried again to Oswin -Markham. He looked at her without answering for some moments. "I don't -know," he said at last. "Successful? perhaps so." - -"What on earth do you mean?" she asked; "are you afraid of the Natal -critics?" - -"No, I can't say I am." - -"Of what then?" - -"There is a person at the door who wishes to speak to you, Mr. Markham," -said one of the servants coming up to Oswin. "He says he doesn't carry -cards, but you will see his name here," and he handed Oswin an envelope. - -Oswin Markham read the name on the envelope and crushed it into his -pocket, saying to the servant: - -"Show the--gentleman up to the room where I dressed." - -So Miss Lottie did not become aware of the origin of Mr. Markham's doubt -as to the success of the great drama _Throne or Spouse_. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - - -``Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do surely bar the -door upon your own liberty if you deny your griefs to your friend.= - -````... tempt him with speed aboard; - -```Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night.= - -````Indeed this counsellor - -```Is now most still, most secret, and most grave, - -```Who was in life a foolish prating knave.= - -```This sudden sending him away must seem - -```Deliberate.--_Hamlet._= - - -|IN the room where he had assumed the dress of the part he had just -played, Oswin Markham was now standing idle, and without making any -attempt to remove the colour from his face or the streaks from his -eyebrows. He was still in the dress of the Prince when the door was -opened and a man entered the room eagerly. - -"By Jingo! yes, I thought you'd see me," he cried before he had closed -the door. All the people outside--and there were a good many--who -chanced to hear the tone of the voice knew that the speaker was the man -who had shouted those friendly words when Oswin was leaving the stage. -"Yes, old fellow," he continued, slapping Markham on the back and -grasping him by the hand, "I thought I might venture to intrude upon -you. Right glad I was to see you, though, by heavens! I thought I should -have shouted out when I saw you--you, of all people, here. Tell us how -it comes, Oswin. How the deuce do you appear at this place? Why, what's -the matter with you? Have you talked so much in that tall way on the -boards that you haven't a word left to say here? You weren't used to be -dumb in the good old days---good old nights, my boy." - -"You won't give me a chance," said Oswin; and he did not even smile in -response to the other's laughter. - -"There then, I've dried up," said the stranger. "But, by my soul, I tell -you I'm glad to see you. It seems to me, do you know, that I'm drunk -now, and that when I sleep off the fit you'll be gone. I've fancied -queer things when I've been drunk, as you well know. But it's you -yourself, isn't it?" - -"One need have no doubt about your identity," said Oswin. "You talk in -the same infernally muddled way that ever Harry Despard used to talk." - -"That's like yourself, my boy," cried the man, with a loud laugh. "I'm -beginning to feel that it's you indeed, though you are dressed up like -a Prince--by heavens! you played the part well. I couldn't help shouting -out what I did for a lark. I wondered what you'd think when you heard -my voice. But how did you manage to turn up at Natal? tell me that. You -left us to go up country, didn't you?" - -"It's a long story," replied Oswin. "Very long, and I am bound to change -this dress. I can't go about in this fashion for ever." - -"No more you can," said the other. "And the sooner you get rid of those -togs the better, for by God, it strikes me that they give you a wrong -impression about yourself. You're not so hearty by a long way as you -used to be. I'll tell you what I'll do; I'll go on to the hotel and -wait there until you are in decent rig. I'll only be in this town until -to-morrow evening, and we must have a night together." - -For the first time since the man had entered the room Oswin brightened -up. - -"Only till to-morrow night, Hal?" he cried. "Then we must have a few -jolly hours together before we part. I won't let you even go to the -hotel now. Stay here while I change, like a decent fellow." - -"Now that sounds like your old form, my boy; hang me if I don't stay -with you. Is that a flask in the portmanteau? It is, by Jingo, and -if it's not old Irish may I be--and cigars too. Yes, I will stay, old -fellow, for auld langsyne. This is like auld langsyne, isn't it? Why, -where are you off to?" - -"I have to give a message to some one in another room," said Oswin, -leaving the man alone. He was a tall man, apparently about the same age -as Markham. So much of his face as remained unconcealed by a shaggy, -tawny beard and whiskers was bronzed to a copper colour. His hair -was short and tawny, and his mouth was very coarse. His dress was not -shabby, but the largeness of the check on the pattern scarcely argued -the possession of a subdued taste on the part of the wearer. - -He had seated himself upon a table in the room though there were plenty -of chairs, and when Oswin went out he filled the flask cup and emptied -it with a single jerk of his head; then he snatched up the hat which had -been worn by Oswin on the stage; he threw it into the air and caught it -on one of his feet, then with a laugh he kicked it across the floor. - -But Oswin had gone to the room where Captain Howard, who had acted as -stage manager, was smoking after the labours of the evening. "Howard," -Said Markham, "I must be excused from your supper to-night." - -"Nonsense," said Howard. "It would be too ridiculous for us to have -a supper if you who have done the most work to-night should be away. -What's the matter? Have you a doctor's certificate?" - -"The fact is a--a--sort of friend of mine--a man I knew pretty -intimately some time ago, has turned up here most unexpectedly." - -"Then bring your sort of friend with you." - -"Quite impossible," said Markham quickly. "He is not the kind of man who -would make the supper agreeable either to himself or to any one else. -You will explain to the other fellows how I am compelled to be away." - -"But you'll turn up some time in the course of the night, won't you?" - -"I am afraid to say I shall. The fact is, my friend requires a good deal -of attention to be given to him in the course of a friendly night. If I -can manage to clear myself of him in decent time I'll be with you." - -"You must manage it," said Howard as Oswin went back to the room, where -he found his friend struggling to pull on the green doublet in which the -Prince had appeared in the opening scene of the play. - -"Hang me if I couldn't do the part like one o'clock," he cried; "the -half of it is in the togs. You weren't loud enough, Oswin, when you came -on; you wouldn't have brought down the gods even at Ballarat. This is -how you should have done it: 'I'll save you or----'" - -"For Heaven's sake don't make a fool of yourself, Hal." - -"I was only going to show you how it should be done to rouse the people; -and as for making a fool of myself----" - -"You have done that so often you think it not worth the caution. Come -now, stuff those things into the portmanteau, and I'll have on my mufti -in five minutes." - -"And then off to the hotel, and you bet your pile, as we used to say at -Chokeneck Gulch, we'll have more than a pint bottle of Bass. By the way, -how about your bronze; does the good old governor still stump up?" - -"My allowance goes regularly to Australia," said Os win, with a stern -look coming to his face. - -"And where else should it go, my boy? By the way, that's a tidy female -that showed what neat ankles she had as Marie. By my soul, I envied you -squeezing her. 'What right has he to squeeze her?' I said to myself, and -then I thought if----" - -"But you haven't told me how you came here," said Oswin, interrupting -him. - -"No more I did. It's easily told, my lad. It was getting too warm for me -in Melbourne, and as I had still got some cash I thought I'd take a run -to New York city--at least that's what I made up my mind to do when I -awoke one fine morning in the cabin of the _Virginia_ brig a couple -of hundred miles from Cape Howe. I remembered going into a saloon one -evening and finding a lot of men giving general shouts, but beyond that -I had no idea of anything." - -"That's your usual form," said Oswin. "So you are bound for New York?" - -"Yes, the skipper of the _Virginia_ had made Natal one of his ports, -and there we put in yesterday, so I ran up to this town, under what you -would call an inspiration, or I wouldn't be here now ready to slip the -tinsel from as many bottles of genuine Mot as you choose to order. But -you--what about yourself?" - -"I am here, my Hal, to order as many bottles as you can slip the tinsel -off," cried Oswin, his face flushed more deeply than when it had been -rouged before the footlights. - -"Spoken in your old form, by heavens!" cried the other, leaping from the -table. "You always were a gentleman amongst us, and you never failed -us in the matter of drink. Hang me if I don't let the _Virginia_ -brig--go--to--to New York without me; I'll stay here in company of my -best friend." - -"Come along," said Oswin, leaving the room. "Whether you go or stay -we'll have a night of it at the hotel." - -They passed out together and walked up to the hotel, hearing all the -white population discussing the dramatic performance of the evening, for -it had created a considerable stir in the town. There was no moon, but -the stars were sparkling over the dark blue of the hills that almost -encircle the town. Tall Zulus stood, as they usually do after dark, -talking at the corners in their emphatic language, while here and there -smaller white men speaking Cape Dutch passed through the streets smoking -their native cigars. - -"Just what you would find in Melbourne or in the direction of Geelong, -isn't it, Oswin?" said the stranger, who had his arm inside Markham's. - -"Yes, with a few modifications," said Oswin. - -"Why, hang it all, man," cried the other. "You aren't getting -sentimental, are you? A fellow would think from the way you've been -talking in that low, hollow, parson's tone that you weren't glad I -turned up. If you're not, just say so. You won't need to give Harry -Despard a nod after you've given him a wink." - -"What an infernal fool you do make of yourself," said Oswin. "You know -that I'm glad to have you beside me again, old fellow,--yes, devilish -glad. Confound it, man, do you fancy I've no feeling--no recollection? -Haven't we stood by each other in the past, and won't we do it in the -future?" - -"We will, by heavens, my lad! and hang me if I don't smash anything -that comes on the table tonight except the sparkling. And look here, the -_Virginia_ brig may slip her cable and be off to New York. I'll stand by -you while you stay here, my boy. Yes, say no more, my mind is made up." - -"Spoken like a man!" cried Oswin, with a sudden start. "Spoken like a -man! and here we are at the hotel. We'll have one of our old suppers -together, Hal----" - -"Or perish in the attempt," shouted the other. - -The stranger went upstairs, while Oswin remained below to talk to the -landlord about some matters that occupied a little time. - -Markham and Harwood had a sitting-room for their exclusive use in the -hotel, but it was not into this room that Oswin brought his guest, it -was into another apartment at a different quarter of the house. The -stranger threw his hat into a corner and himself down upon a sofa with -his legs upon a chair that he had tilted back. - -"Now we'll have a general shout," he said. "Ask all the people in the -house what they'll drink. If you acted the Prince on the stage to-night, -I'll act the part here now. I've got the change of a hundred samples of -the Sydney mint, and I want to ease myself of them. Yes, we'll have a -general shout." - -"A general shout in a Dutchman's house? My boy, this isn't a Ballarat -saloon," said Oswin. "If we hinted such a thing we'd be turned into -the street. Here is a bottle of the sparkling by way of opening the -campaign." - -"I'll open the champagne and you open the campaign, good! The sight of -you, Oswin, old fellow--well, it makes me feel that life is a joke. -Fill up your glass and we'll drink to the old times. And now tell me all -about yourself. How did you light here, and what do you mean to do? Have -you had another row in the old quarter?" - -Oswin had drained his glass of champagne and had stretched himself upon -the second sofa. His face seemed pale almost to ghastliness, as persons' -faces do after the use of rouge. He gave a short laugh when the other -had spoken. - -"Wait till after supper," he cried. "I haven't a word to throw to a dog -until after supper." - -"Curse that Prince and his bluster on the stage; you're as hoarse as a -rook now, Oswin," remarked the stranger. - -In a brief space the curried crayfish and penguins' eggs, which form -the opening dishes of a Cape supper, appeared; and though Oswin's friend -seemed to have an excellent appetite, Markham himself scarcely ate -anything. It did not, however, appear that the stranger's comfort was -wholly dependent upon companionship. He ate and drank and talked loudly -whether Oswin fasted or remained mute; but when the supper was removed -and he lighted a cigar, he poured out half a bottle of champagne into a -tumbler, and cried: - -"Now, my gallant Prince, give us all your eventful history since you -left Melbourne five months ago, saying you were going up country. Tell -us how you came to this place, whatever its infernal Dutch name is." - -And Oswin Markham, sitting at the table, told him. - -But while this _tte--tte_ supper was taking place at the hotel, the -messroom of the Bayonetteers was alight, and the regimental cook had -excelled himself in providing dishes that were wholly English, without -the least colonial flavour, for the officers and their guests, among -whom was Harwood. - -Captain Howard's apology for Markham was not freely accepted, more -especially as Markham did not put in an appearance during the entire of -the supper. Harwood was greatly surprised at his absence, and the story -of a friend having suddenly turned up he rejected as a thing devised as -an excuse. He did not return to the hotel until late--more than an -hour past midnight. He paused outside the hotel door for some moments, -hearing the sound of loud laughter and a hoarse voice singing snatches -of different songs. - -"What is the noisy party upstairs?" he asked of the man who opened the -door. - -"That is Mr. Markham and his friend, sir. They have taken supper -together," said the servant. - -Harwood did not express the surprise he felt. He took his candle, and -went to his own room, and, as he smoked a cigar before going to bed, he -heard the intermittent sounds of the laughter and the singing. - -"I shall have a talk with this old friend of Mr. Markham's in the -morning," he said, after he had stated another of his problems to sleep -over. - -Markham and he had been accustomed to breakfast together in their -sitting-room since they had come up from Durban; but when Harwood awoke -the next morning, and came in to breakfast, he found only one cup upon -the table. - -"Why is there not a cup for Mr. Markham?" he asked of the servant. - -"Mr. Markham, sir, left with his friend for Durban at four o'clock this -morning," said the man. - -"What, for Durban?" - -"Yes, sir. Mr. Markham had ordered a Cape cart and team to be here at -that time. I thought you might have awakened as they were leaving." - -"No, I did not," said Mr. Harwood quietly; and the servant left the -room. - -Here was something additional for the special correspondent of the -_Dominant Trumpeter_ to ponder over and reduce to the terms of a -problem. He reflected upon his early suspicions of Oswin Markham. Had -he not even suggested that Markham's name was probably something very -different from what he had called himself? Mr. Harwood knew well that -men have a curious tendency to call themselves by the names of the -persons to whom bank orders are made payable, and he believed that such -a subtle sympathy might exist between the man who had been picked up at -sea and the document that was found in his possession. Yes, Mr. Harwood -felt that his instincts were not perhaps wholly in error regarding Mr. -Oswin Markham, cleverly though he had acted the part of the Prince in -that stirring drama on the previous evening. - -On the afternoon of the following day, however, Oswin Markham entered -the hotel at Pietermaritzburg and walked into the room where Harwood -was working up a letter for his newspaper, descriptive of life among the -Zulus. - -"Good heavens!" cried the "special," starting up; "I did not expect you -back so soon. Why, you could only have stayed a few hours at the port." - -"It was enough for me," said Oswin, a smile lighting up his pale face; -"quite enough for me. I only waited to see the vessel with my friend -aboard safely over the bar. Then I returned." - -"You went away from here in something of a hurry, did you not, Markham?" - -Oswin laughed as he threw himself into a chair. - -"Yes, something of a hurry. My friend is--let us say, eccentric. We left -without going to bed the night before last. Never mind, Harwood, -old fellow; he is gone, and here I am now, ready for anything -you propose--an excursion across the Tugela or up to the -Transvaal--anywhere--anywhere--I'm free now and myself again." - -"Free?" said Harwood curiously. "What do you mean by free?" - -Oswin looked at him mutely for a moment, then he laughed, saying: - -"Free--yes, free from that wretched dramatic affair. Thank Heaven, it's -off my mind!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. - - -``_Horatio_. My lord, the King your father. - -``_Hamlet_. The King--my father? - -``_Horatio_. Season your admiration for a while.= - -```In what particular thought to work I know not; - -```But in the gross and scope of mine opinion - -```This bodes some strange eruption to our state.= - -````Our last King, - -```Whose image even but now appear'd to us, - -````... by a sealed compact - -```Did forfeit... all those his lands - -```Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror.= - -`````_Hamlet._= - - -|MY son," said The Macnamara, "you ought to be ashamed of your -threatment of your father. The like of your threatment was never known -in the family of the Macnamaras, or, for that matter, of the O'Dermots. -A stain has been thrown upon the family that centuries can't wash out." - -"It is no stain either upon myself or our family for me to have set -out to do some work in the world," said Standish proudly, for he felt -capable of maintaining the dignity of labour. "I told you that I would -not pass my life in the idleness of Innishdermot. I-----------" - -"It's too much for me, Standish O'Dermot Macnamara--to hear you talk -lightly of Innishdermot is too much for the blood of the representative -of the ancient race. Don't, my boy, don't." - -"I don't talk lightly of it; when you told me it was gone from us I felt -it as deeply as any one could feel it." - -"It's one more wrong added to the grievances of our thrampled counthry," -cried the hereditary monarch of the islands with fervour. "And yet you -have never sworn an oath to be revenged. You even tell me that you -mean to be in the pay of the nation that has done your family this -wrong--that has thrampled The Macnamara into the dust. This is the -bitterest stroke of all." - -"I have told you all," said Standish. "Colonel Gerald was kinder to me -than words could express. He is going to England in two months, but only -to remain a week, and then he will leave for the Castaway Islands. -He has already written to have my appointment as private secretary -confirmed, and I shall go at once to have everything ready for his -arrival. It's not much I can do, God knows, but what I can do I will for -him. I'll work my best." - -"Oh, this is bitter--bitter--to hear a Macnamara talk of work; and just -now, too, when the money has come to us." - -"I don't want the money," said Standish indignantly. - -"Ye're right, my son, so far. What signifies fifteen thousand pounds -when the feelings of an ancient family are outraged?" - -"But I can't understand how those men had power to take the land, if you -did not wish to give it to them, for their railway and their hotel." - -"It's more of the oppression, my son--more of the thrampling of our -counthry into the dust. I rejected their offers with scorn at first; -but I found out that they could get power from the oppressors of our -counthry to buy every foot of the ground at the price put on it by a man -they call an arbithrator--so between thraitors and arbithrators I knew -I couldn't hold out. With tears in my eyes I signed the papers, and now -all the land from the mouth of Suangorm to Innishdermot is in the hands -of the English company--all but the castle--thank God they couldn't -wrest that from me. If you'd only been by me, Standish, I would -have held out against them all; but think of the desolate old man -sitting amongst the ruins of his home and the tyrants with the gold--I -could do nothing." - -"And then you came out here. Well, father, I'm glad to see you, and -Colonel Gerald will be so too, and--Daireen." - -"Aye," said The Macnamara. "Daireen is here too. And have you been -talking to the lovely daughter of the Geralds, my boy? Have you been -confessing all you confessed to me, on that bright day at Innishdermot? -Have you----" - -"Look here, father," said Standish sternly; "you must never allude to -anything that you forced me to say then. It was a dream of mine, and now -it is past." - -"You can hold your head higher than that now, my boy," said The -Macnamara proudly. "You're not a beggar now, Standish; money's in the -family." - -"As if money could make any difference," said Standish. - -"It makes all the difference in the world, my boy," said The Macnamara; -but suddenly recollecting his principles, he added, "That is, to some -people; but a Macnamara without a penny might aspire to the hand of -the noblest in the land. Oh, here she comes--the bright snowdhrop of -Glenmara--the arbutus-berry of Craig-Innish; and her father too--oh, why -did he turn to the Saxons?" - -The Macnamara, Prince of Innishdermot, Chief of the Islands and Lakes, -and King of all Munster, was standing with his son in the coffee-room of -the hotel, having just come ashore from the steamer that had brought him -out to the Cape. The patriot had actually left his land for the first -time in his life, and had proceeded to the colony in search of his son, -and he found his son waiting for him at the dock gates. - -That first letter which Standish received from his father had indeed -been very piteous, and if the young man had not been so resolute in his -determination to work, he would have returned to Innishdermot once more, -to comfort his father in his trials. But the next mail brought a second -communication from The Macnamara to say that he could endure no longer -the desolation of the lonely hearth of his ancestral castle, but would -set out in search of his lost offspring through all the secret places -of the earth. Considering that he had posted this letter to the definite -address of his offspring, the effect of the vagueness of his expressed -resolution was somewhat lessened. - -Standish received the letter with dismay, and Colonel Gerald himself -felt a little uneasiness at the prospect of having The Macnamara -quartered upon him for an uncertain period. He was well aware of the -largeness of the ideas of The Macnamara on many matters, and in regard -to the question of colonial hospitality he felt that the views of the -hereditary prince would be liberal to an inconvenient degree. It was -thus with something akin to consternation that he listened to the -eloquent letter which Standish read with flushed face and trembling -hands. - -"We shall be very pleased to see The Macnamara here," said Colonel -Gerald; and Daireen laughed, saying she could not believe that -Standish's father would ever bring himself to depart from his kingdom. -It was on the next day that Colonel Gerald had an interview of -considerable duration with Standish on a matter of business, he said; -and when it was over and the young man's qualifications had been judged -of, Standish found himself in a position either to accept or decline the -office of private secretary to the new governor of the lovely Castaway -group. With tears he left the presence of the governor, and went to -his room to weep the fulness from his mind and to make a number of firm -resolutions as to his future of hard work; and that very evening Colonel -Gerald had written to the Colonial Office nominating Standish to the -appointment; so that the matter was considered settled, and Standish -felt that he did not fear to face his father. - -But when Standish had met The Macnamara on the arrival of the mail -steamer a week after he had received that letter stating his intentions, -the young man learned, what apparently could not be included in a letter -without proving harassing to its eloquence, that the extensive lands -along the coastway of the lough had been sold to an English company of -speculators who had come to the conclusion that a railway made through -the picturesque district would bring a fortune to every one who might be -so fortunate as to have money invested in the undertaking. So a railway -was to be made, and a gigantic hotel built to overlook the lough. The -shooting and fishing rights--in fact every right and every foot of -ground, had been sold for a large sum to the company by The Macnamara. -And though Standish had at first felt the news as a great blow to him, -he subsequently became reconciled to it, for his father's appearance at -the Cape with several thousand pounds was infinitely more pleasing to -him than if the representative of The Macnamaras had come in his former -condition, which was simply one of borrowing powers. - -"It's the snowdhrop of Glenmara," said The Macnamara, kissing the hand -of Daireen as he met her at the door of the room. "And you, George, my -boy," he continued, turning to her father; "I may shake hands with you -as a friend, without the action being turned to mean that I forgive the -threatment my counthry has received from the nation whose pay you are -still in. Yes, only as a friend I shake hands with you, George." - -"That is a sufficient ground for me, Macnamara," said the colonel. "We -won't go into the other matters just now." - -"I cannot believe that this is Cape Town," said Daireen. "Just think of -our meeting here to-day. Oh, if we could only have a glimpse of the dear -old Slieve Docas!" - -"Why shouldn't you see it, white dove?" said The Macnamara in Irish to -the girl, whose face brightened at the sound of the tongue that brought -back so many pleasant recollections to her. "Why shouldn't you?" he -continued, taking from one of the boxes of his luggage an immense bunch -of purple heather in gorgeous bloom. "I gathered it for you from the -slope of the mountain. It brings you the scent of the finest hill in the -world." - -The girl caught the magnificent bloom in both her hands and put her face -down to it. As the first breath of the hill she loved came to her in -this strange land they saw her face lighten. Then she turned away and -buried her head in the scents of the hills--in the memories of the -mountains and the lakes, while The Macnamara spoke on in the musical -tongue that lived in her mind associated with all the things of the land -she loved. - -"And Innishdermot," said Colonel Gerald at length, "how is the seat of -our kings?" - -"Alas, my counthry! thrampled on--bethrayed--crushed to the ground!" -said The Macnamara. "You won't believe it, George--no, you won't. They -have spoiled me of all I possessed--they have driven me out of the -counthry that my sires ruled when the oppressors were walking about in -the skins of wild beasts. Yes, George, Innishdermot is taken from me and -I've no place to shelter me." - -Colonel Gerald began to look grave and to feel much graver even than he -looked. The Macnamara shelterless was certainly a subject for serious -consideration. - -"Yes," said Standish, observing the expression on his face, "you would -wonder how any company could find it profitable to pay fifteen thousand -pounds for the piece of land. That is what the new railway people paid -my father." - -Once more the colonel's face brightened, but The Macnamara stood up -proudly, saying: - -"Pounds! What are pounds to the feelings of a true patriot? What can -money do to heal the wrongs of a race?" - -"Nothing," said the colonel; "nothing whatever. But we must hasten out -to our cottage. I'll get a coolie to take your luggage to the railway -station. We shall drive out. My dear Dolly, come down from yonder -mountain height where you have gone on wings of heather. I'll take out -the bouquet for you." - -"No," said Daireen. "I'll not let any one carry it for me." - -And they all went out of the hotel to the carriage. - -The _matre d'htel_, who had been listening to the speech of The -Macnamara in wonder, and had been finally mystified by the Celtic -language, hastened to the visitors' book in which The Macnamara had -written his name; but this last step certainly did not tend to make -everything clear, for in the book was written: - -"Macnamara, Prince of the Isles, Chief of Innish-dermot and the Lakes, -and King of Munster." - -"And with such a nose!" said the _matre d'htel_. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. - - -```Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, - -```To give these... duties to your father.= - -```In that and all things we show our duty.= - -``_King_. What wouldst thou beg, Laertes? - -```What wouldst thou have?= - -``_Laertes_. Your leave and favour to ret urn--_Hamlet_.= - - -|TO these four exiles from Erin sitting out on the stoep of the Dutch -cottage after dinner very sweet it was to dream of fatherland. The soft -light through which the broad-leaved, motionless plants glimmered was, -of course, not to be compared with the long dwindling twilights that -were wont to overhang the slopes of Lough Suangorm; and that mighty peak -which towered above them, flanked by the long ridge of Table Mountain, -was a poor thing in the eyes of those who had witnessed the glories of -the heather-swathed Slieve Docas. - -The cries ot the bullock wagoners, which were faintly heard from the -road, did not interfere with the musings of any of the party, nor with -the harangue of The Macnamara. - -Very pleasant it was to hear The Macnamara talk about his homeless -condition as attributable to the long course of oppression persisted -in by the Saxon Monarchy--at least so Colonel Gerald thought, for in a -distant colony a harangue on the subject of British tyranny in Ireland -does not sound very vigorous, any more than does a burning revolutionary -ode when read a century or so after the revolution has taken place. - -But poor Standish, who had spent a good many years of his life breathing -in of the atmosphere of harangue, began to feel impatient at his sire's -eloquence. Standish knew very well that his father had made a hard -bargain with the railway and hotel company that had bought the land; -nay, he even went so far as to conjecture that the affectionate yearning -which had caused The Macnamara to come out to the colony in search -of his son might be more plainly defined as an impulse of prudence -to escape from certain of his creditors before they could hear of his -having received a large sum of money. Standish wondered how Colonel -Gerald could listen to all that his father was saying when he could not -help being conscious of the nonsense of it all, for the young man was -not aware of the pleasant memories of his youth that were coming back to -the colonel under the influence of The Macnamara's speech. - -The next day, however, Standish had a conversation of considerable -length with his father, and The Macnamara found that he had made rapid -progress in his knowledge of the world since he had left his secluded -home. In the face of his father he insisted on his father's promising to -remove from the Dutch cottage at the end of a few days. The Macnamara's -notions of hospitality were very large, and he could not see why Colonel -Gerald should have the least feeling except of happiness in entertaining -a shelterless monarch; but Standish was firm, and Colonel Gerald did not -resist so stoutly as The Macnamara felt he should have done; so that at -the end of the week Daireen and her father were left alone for the first -time since they had come together at the Cape. - -They found it very agreeable to be able to sit together and ride -together and talk without reserve. Standish Macnamara was, beyond doubt, -very good company, and his father was even more inclined to be sociable, -but no one disputed the wisdom of the young man's conduct in curtailing -his visit and his father's to the Dutch cottage. The Macnamara had his -pockets filled with money, and as Standish knew that this was a strange -experience for him, he resolved that the weight of responsibility -which the preservation of so large a sum was bound to entail, should be -reduced; so he took a cottage at Rondebosch for his father and himself, -and even went the length of buying a horse. The lordliness of the ideas -of the young man who had only had a few months' experience of the world -greatly impressed his father, and he paid for everything without a -murmur. - -Standish had, at the intervals of his father's impassioned discourses, -many a long and solitary ride and many a lengthened reverie amongst the -pines that grow beside The Flats. The resolutions he made as to his life -at the Castaway group were very numerous, and the visions that floated -before his eyes were altogether very agreeable. He was beginning to feel -that he had accomplished a good deal of that ennobling hard work in -the world which he had resolved to set about fulfilling. His previous -resolutions had not been made carelessly: he had grappled with adverse -Fate, he felt, and was he not getting the better of this contrary power? - -But not many days after the arrival of The Macnamara another personage -of importance made his appearance in Cape Town. The Bishop of the -Calapash Islands and Metropolitan of the Salamander Archipelago had at -last found a vessel to convey him to where his dutiful son was waiting -for him. - -The prelate felt that he had every reason to congratulate himself upon -the opportuneness of his arrival, for Mr. Glaston assured his father, -after the exuberance of their meeting had passed away, that if the -vessel had not appeared within the course of another week, he would -have been compelled to defer the gratification of his filial desires for -another year. - -"A colony is endurable for a week," said Mr. Glaston; "it is wearisome -at the end of a fortnight; but a month spent with colonists has got a -demoralising effect that years perhaps may fail to obliterate." - -The bishop felt that indeed he had every reason to be thankful that -unfavourable winds had not prolonged the voyage of his vessel. - -Mrs. Crawford was, naturally enough, one of the first persons at the -Cape to visit the bishop, for she had known him years before--she had -indeed known most Colonial celebrities in her time--and she took the -opportunity to explain to him that Colonel Gerald had been counting the -moments until the arrival of the vessel from the Salamanders, so great -was his anxiety to meet with the Metropolitan of that interesting -archipelago, with whom he had been acquainted a good many years before. -This was very gratifying to the bishop, who liked to be remembered by -his friends; he had an idea that even the bishop of a distant colony -runs a chance of being forgotten in the world unless he has written an -heretical book, so he was glad when, a few days after his arrival at -Cape Town, he received a visit from Colonel Gerald and an invitation to -dinner. - -This was very pleasing to Mrs. Crawford, for, of course, Algernon -Glaston was included in the invitation, and she contrived without any -difficulty that he should be seated by the side of Miss Gerald. Her -skill was amply rewarded, she felt, when she observed Mr. Glaston -and Daireen engaged in what sounded like a discussion on the musical -landscapes of Liszt; to be engaged--even on a discussion of so subtle a -nature--was something, Mrs. Crawford thought. - -In the course of this evening, she herself, while the bishop was smiling -upon Daireen in a way that had gained the hearts, if not the souls, -of the Salamanderians, got by the side of Mr. Glaston, intent upon -following up the advantage the occasion offered. - -"I am so glad that the bishop has taken a fancy to Daireen," she said. -"Daireen is a dear good girl--is she not?" - -Mr. Glaston raised his eyebrows and touched the extreme point of -his moustache before he answered a question so pronounced. "Ah, she -is--improving," he said slowly. "If she leaves this place at once she -may improve still." - -"She wants some one to be near her capable of moulding her tastes--don't -you think?" - -"She _needs_ such a one. I should not like to say _wants,_" remarked Mr. -Glaston. - -"I am sure Daireen would be very willing to learn, Mr. Glaston; she -believes in you, I know," said Mrs. Crawford, who was proceeding on -an assumption of the broad principles she had laid down to Daireen -regarding the effect of flattery upon the race. But her words did not -touch Mr. Glaston deeply: he was accustomed to be believed in by girls. - -"She has taste--some taste," he replied, though the concession was not -forced from him by Mrs. Crawford's revelation to him. "Yes; but of what -value is taste unless it is educated upon the true principles of Art?" - -"Ah, what indeed?" - -"Miss Gerald's taste is as yet only approaching the right tracks of -culture. One shudders, anticipating the effect another month of life -in such a place as this may have upon her. For my own part, I do not -suppose that I shall be myself again for at least a year after I return. -I feel my taste utterly demoralised through the two months of my stay -here; and I explained to my father that it will be necessary for him -to resign his see if he wishes to have me near him at all. It is quite -impossible for me to come out here again. The three months' absence from -England that my visit entails is ruinous to me." - -"I have always thought of your self-sacrifice as an example of true -filial duty, Mr. Glaston. I know that Daireen thinks so as well." - -But Mr. Glaston did not seem particularly anxious to talk of Daireen. - -"Yes; my father must resign his see," he continued. - -"The month I have just passed has left too terrible recollections behind -it to allow of my running a chance of its being repeated. The only -person I met in the colony who was not hopelessly astray was that Miss -Vincent." - -"Oh!" cried Mrs. Crawford, almost shocked. "Oh, Mr. Glaston! you surely -do not mean that! Good gracious!--Lottie Vincent!" - -"Miss Vincent was the only one who, I found, had any correct idea of -Art; and yet, you see, how she turned out." - -"Turned out? I should think so indeed. Lottie Vincent was always turning -out since the first time I met her." - -"Yes; the idea of her acting in company of such a man as this Markham--a -man who had no hesitation in going to view a picture by candlelight--it -is too distressing." - -"My dear Mr. Glaston, I think they will get on very well together. You -do not know Lottie Vincent as I know her. She has behaved with the most -shocking ingratitude towards me. But we are parted now, and I shall take -good care she does not impose upon me again." - -"It scarcely matters how one's social life is conducted if one's -artistic life is correct," said Mr. Glaston. - -At this assertion, which she should have known to be one of the articles -of Mr. Glaston's creed, Mrs. Crawford gave a little start. She thought -it better, however, not to question its soundness. As a matter of fact, -the bishop himself, if he had heard his son enunciate such a precept, -would not have questioned its soundness; for Mr. Glaston spake as one -having authority, and most people whose robustness was not altogether -mental, believed his Gospel of Art. - -"No doubt what you say is--ah--very true," said Mrs. Crawford. "But I -do wish, Mr. Glaston, that you could find time to talk frequently to -Daireen on these subjects. I should be so sorry if the dear child's -ideas were allowed to run wild. Your influence might work wonders with -her. There is no one here now who can interfere with you." - -"Interfere with me, Mrs. Crawford?" - -"I mean, you know, that Mr. Harwood, with his meretricious cleverness, -might possibly--ah--well, you know how easily girls are led." - -"If there would be a possibility of Miss Gerald's being influenced in a -single point by such a man as that Mr. Harwood, I fear not much can be -hoped for her," said Mr. Glaston. - -"We should never be without hope," said Mrs. Crawford. "For my own -part, I hope a great deal--a very great deal--from your influence over -Daireen; and I am exceedingly happy that the bishop seems so pleased -with her." - -The good bishop was indeed distributing his benedictory smiles freely, -and Daireen came in for a share of his favours. Her father wondered at -the prodigality of the churchman's smiles; for as a chaplain he was not -wont to be anything but grave. The colonel did not reflect that while -smiling may be a grievous fault in a chaplain, it can never be anything -but ornamental to a bishop. - -A few days afterwards Mrs. Crawford called upon the bishop, and had an -interesting conversation with him on the subject of his son's future--a -question to which of late the bishop himself had given a good deal -of thought; for in the course of his official investigations on the -question of human existence he had been led to believe that the -duration of life has at all times been uncertain; he had more than -once communicated this fact to dusky congregations, and by reducing the -application of the painful truth, he had come to feel that the life of -even a throned bishop is not exempt from the fatalities of mankind. - -As the bishop's son was accustomed to spend half of the revenues of -his father's see, his father was beginning to have an anxiety about the -future of the young man; for he did not think that his successor to -the prelacy of the Calapash Islands would allow Mr. Glaston to draw, -as usual, upon the income accruing to the office. The bishop was not -so utterly unworldly in his notions but that he knew there exist other -means of amassing wealth than by writing verses in a pamphlet-magazine, -or even composing delicate impromptus in minor keys for one's own -hearing, His son had not felt it necessary to occupy his mind with any -profession, so that his future was somewhat difficult to foresee with -any degree of clearness. - -Mrs. Crawford, however, spoke many comforting words to the bishop -regarding a provision for his son's future. Daireen Gerald, she assured -him, besides being one of the most charming girls in the world, was -the only child of her father, and her father's estates in the South of -Ireland were extensive and profitable. - -When Mrs. Crawford left him, the bishop felt glad that he had smiled -so frequently upon Miss Gerald. He had heard that no kindly smile was -bestowed in vain, but the truth of the sentiment had never before so -forced itself upon his mind. He smiled again in recollection of his -previous smiles. He felt that indeed Miss Gerald was a charming girl, -and Mrs. Crawford was most certainly a wonderful woman; and it can -scarcely be doubted that the result of the bishop's reflections proved -the possession on his part of powerful mental resources, enabling him to -arrive at subtle conclusions on questions of perplexity. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. - - -```Too much of water had'st thou, poor Ophelia.= - -```How can that be unless she drowned herself?= - -``If the man go to this water... it is, will he, nill he, he goes; mark -you that.--_Hamlet_.= - - -|STANDISH Macnamara had ridden to the Dutch cottage, but he found it -deserted. Colonel Gerald, one of the servants informed him, had early in -the day driven to Simon's Town, and had taken Miss Gerald with him, but -they would both return in the evening. Sadly the young man turned away, -and it is to be feared that his horse had a hard time of it upon The -Flats. The waste of sand was congenial with his mood, and so was the -rapid motion. - -But while he was riding about in an aimless way, Daireen and her father -were driving along the lovely road that runs at the base of the low -hills which form a mighty causeway across the isthmus between Table -Bay and Simon's Bay. Colonel Gerald had received a message that the -man-of-war which had been stationed at the chief of the Castaway group -had called at Simon's Bay; he was anxious to know how the provisional -government was progressing under the commodore of those waters whose -green monotony is broken by the gentle cliff's of the Castaways, and -Daireen had been allowed to accompany her father to the naval station. - -The summer had not yet advanced sufficiently far to make tawny the dark -green coarse herbage of the hillside, and the mass of rich colouring -lent by the heaths and the prickly-pear hedges made Daireen almost -jealous for the glories of the slopes of Glenmara. For some distance -over the road the boughs of Australian oaks in heavy foilage were -leaning; but when Constantia and its evenly set vineyards were passed -some distance, Daireen heard the sound of breaking waves, and in an -instant afterwards the road bore them down to the water's edge at Kalk -Bay, a little rocky crescent enclosing green sparkling waves. Upon a -pebbly beach a few fishing-boats were drawn up, and the outlying spaces -were covered with drying nets, the flavour of which was much preferable -to that of the drying fish that were near. - -On still the road went until it lost itself upon the mighty beaches of -False Bay. Down to the very brink of the great green waves that burst -in white foam and clouds of mist upon the sand the team of the wagonette -was driven, and on along the snowy curve for miles until Simon's Bay -with its cliffs were reached, and the horses were pulled up at the hotel -in the single street of Simon's Town at the base of the low ridge of the -purple hill. - -"You will not be lonely, Dolly," said Colonel Gerald as he left the -hotel after lunch to meet the commander of the man-of-war of which the -yellow-painted hull and long streaming pennon could be seen from the -window, opposite the fort at the farthest arm of the bay. - -"Lonely?" said the girl. "I hope I may, for I feel I would like a little -loneliness for a change. I have not been lonely since I was at Glenmara -listening to Murrough O'Brian playing a dirge. Run away now, papa, and -you can tell me when we are driving home what the Castaways are really -like." - -"I'll make particular inquiries as to the possibilities of lawn-tennis," -said her father, as he went down the steps to the red street. - -Daireen saw a sergeant's party of soldiers carry arms to the colonel, -though he wore no uniform and had not been at this place for years; but -even less accustomed observers than the men would have known that he was -a soldier. Tall, straight, and with bright gray eyes somewhat hollower -than they had been twenty years before, he looked a soldier in every -point--one who had served well and who had yet many years of service -before him. - -How noble he looked, Daireen thought, as he kissed his hand up to her. -And then she thought how truly great his life had been. Instead of -coming home after his time of service had expired, he had continued at -his post in India, unflinching beneath the glare of the sun overhead -or from the scorching of the plain underfoot; and here he was now, not -going home to rest for the remainder of his life, but ready to face -an arduous duty on behalf of his country. She knew that he had -been striving through all these years to forget in the work he was -accomplishing the one grief of his life. She had often seen him gazing -at her face, and she knew why he had sighed as he turned away. - -She had not meant to feel lonely in her father's absence, but her -thoughts somehow were not of that companionable kind which, coming to -one when alone, prevent one's feeling lonely. - -She picked up the visitors' book and read all the remarks that had been -written in English for the past years; but even the literature of an -hotel visitor's book fails at some moments to relieve a reader's mind. -She turned over the other volumes, one of which was the Commercial -Code of Signals, and the other a Dutch dictionary. She read one of Mr. -Harwood's letters in a back number of the _Dominant Trumpeter_, and she -found that she could easily recall the circumstances under which, in -various conversations, he had spoken to her every word of that column -and a quarter. She wondered if special correspondents write out every -night all the remarks that they have heard during the day. But even the -attempt to solve this problem did not make her feel brisk. - -What was the thought which was hovering about her, and which she was -trying to avoid by all the means in her power? She could not have -defined it. The boundaries of that thought were too vague to be outlined -by words. - -She glanced out of the window for a while, and then walked to the door -and looked over the iron balcony at the head of the steps. Only a few -people were about the street. Gazing out seawards, she saw a signal -flying from the peak of the man-of-war, and in a few minutes she saw a -boat put off and row steadily for the shore near the far-off fort at the -headland. She knew the boat was to convey her father aboard the vessel. -She stood there watching it until it had landed and was on its way back -with her father in the stern. - -Then she went along the road until she had left the limits of the town, -and was standing between the hill and the sea. Very lovely the sea -looked from where it was breaking about the rocks beneath her, out to -the horizon which was undefined in the delicate mist that rose from the -waters. - -She stood for a long time tasting of the freshness of the breeze. She -could see the man-of-war's boat making its way through the waves until -it at last reached the ship, and then she seemed to have lost the object -of her thoughts. She turned off the road and got upon the sloping beach -along which she walked some distance. - -She had met no one since she had left the hotel, and the coast of the -Bay round to the farthest headland seemed deserted; but somehow her -mood of loneliness had gone from her as she stood at the brink of those -waters whose music was as the sound of a song of home heard in a strange -land. What was there to hinder her from thinking that she was standing -at the uttermost headland of Lough Suangorm, looking out once more upon -the Atlantic? - -She crossed a sandy hollow and got upon a ledge of rocks, up to which -the sea was beating. Here she seated herself, and sent her eyes out -seawards to where the war-ship was lying, and then that thought which -had been near her all the day came upon her. It was not of the Irish -shore that the glad waters were laving. It was only of some words that -had been spoken to her. "For a month we will think of each other," were -the words, and she reflected that now this month had passed. The month -that she had promised to think of him had gone, but it had not taken -with it her thoughts of the man who had uttered those words. - -She looked out dreamily across the green waves, wondering if he had -returned. Surely he would not let a day pass without coming to her side -to ask her if she had thought of him during the month. And what answer -would she give him? She smiled. - -"Love, my love," she said, "when have I ceased to think of you? When -shall I cease to think of you?" - -The tears forced themselves into her eyes with the pure intensity of -her passion. She sat there dreaming her dreams and thinking her thoughts -until she seemed only to hear the sound of the waters of the distance; -the sound of the breaking waves seemed to have passed away. It was this -sudden consciousness that caused her to awake from her reverie. She -turned and saw that the waves were breaking on the beach _behind -her_--the rock where she was sitting was surrounded with water, and -every plunge of the advancing tide sent a swirl of water through the -gulf that separated the rocks from the beach. - -In an instant she had started to her feet. She saw the death that was -about her. She looked to the rock where she was standing. The highest, -ledge contained a barnacle. She knew it was below the line of high -water, and now not more than a couple of feet of the ledge were -uncovered. A little cry of horror burst from her, and at the same -instant the boom of a gun came across the water from the man-of-war; -she looked and saw that the boat was on its way to the shore again. In -another half-minute a second report sounded, and she knew that they were -firing a salute to her father. They were doing this while his daughter -was gazing at death in the face. - -Could they see her from the boat? It seemed miles away, but she took off -her white jacket and standing up waved it. Not the least sign was made -from the boat. The report of the guns echoed along the shore mingling -with her cries. But a sign was given from the water: a wave flung its -spray clear over the rock. She knew what it meant. - -She saw in a moment what chance she had of escape. The water between the -rock and the shore was not yet very deep. If she could bear the brunt of -the wild rush of the waves that swept into the hollow she could make her -way ashore. - -In an instant she had stepped down to the water, still holding on by the -rocks. A moment of stillness came and she rushed through the waves, but -that sand--it sank beneath her first step, and she fell backwards, then -came another swirl of eddying waves that plunged through the gulf and -swept her away with their force, out past the rock she had been on. One -cry she gave as she felt herself lost. - -The boom of the saluting gun doing honour to her father was the sound -she heard as the cruel foam flashed into her face. - -But at her cry there started up from behind a rock far ashore the figure -of a man. He looked about him in a bewildered way. Then he made a rush -for the beach, seeing the toy the waves were heaving about. He plunged -in up to his waist. - -"Damn the sand!" he cried, as he felt it yield. He bent himself against -the current and took advantage of every relapse of the tide to rush -a few steps onward. He caught the rock and swung himself round to the -seaward side. Then he waited until the next wave brought that helpless -form near him. He did not leave his hold of the rock, but before the -backward sweep came he clutched the girl's dress. Then came a struggle -between man and wave. The man conquered. He had the girl on one of his -arms, and had placed her upon the rock for an instant. Then he swung -himself to the shoreward side, caught her up again, and stumbling, -and sinking, and battling with the current, he at last gained a sound -footing. - -Daireen was exhausted but not insensible. She sat upon the dry sand -where the man had placed her, and she drew back the wet hair from her -face. Then she saw the man stand by the edge of the water and shake his -fist at it. - -"It's not the first time I've licked you singlehanded," he said, "and -it'll not be the last. Your bullying roar won't wash here." Then he -seemed to catch sight of something on the top of a wave. "Hang me if -you'll get even her hat," he said, and once more he plunged in. The -hat was farther out than the girl had been, and he had more trouble in -securing it. Daireen saw that his head was covered more than once, and -she was in great distress. At last, however, he struggled to the beach -with the hat in his hand. It was very terrible to the girl to see him -turn, squeezing the water from his hair, and curse the sea and all that -pertained to it. - -Suddenly, however, he looked round and walked up to where she was now -standing. He handed her the hat as though he had just picked it up from -the sand. Then he looked at her. - -"Miss," he said, "I believe I'm the politest man in this infernal -colony; if I was rude to you just now I ask your pardon. I'm afraid I -pulled you about." - -"You saved me from drowning," said Daireen. "If you had not come to me I -should be dead now." - -"I didn't do it for your sake," said the man. "I did it because that's -my enemy"--he pointed to the sea--"and I wouldn't lose a chance of -having a shy at him. It's my impression he's only second best this time -again. Never mind. How do you feel, miss?" - -"Only a little tired," said Daireen. "I don't think I could walk back to -the hotel." - -"You won't need," said the man. "Here comes a Cape cart and two ancient -swells in it. If they don't give you a seat, I'll smash the whole -contrivance." - -"Oh!" cried Daireen joyfully; "it is papa--papa himself." - -"Not the party with the brass buttons?" said the man. "All right, I'll -hail them." - -Colonel Gerald sprang from the Cape cart in which he was driving with -the commodore of the naval station. - -"Good God, Daireen, what does this mean?" he cried, looking from the -girl to the man beside her. - -But Daireen, regardless of her dripping condition, threw herself into -his arms, and the stranger turned away whistling. He reached the road -and shook his head confidentially at the commodore, who was standing -beside the Cape cart. - -"Touching thing to be a father, eh, Admiral?" he said. - -"Stop, sir," said the commodore. "You must wait till this is explained." - -"Must I?" said the man. "Who is there here that will keep me?" - -"What can I say to you, sir?" cried Colonel Gerald, coming up and -holding out his hand to the stranger. "I have no words to thank you." - -"Well, as to that, General," said the man, "it seems to me the less -that's said the better. Take my advice and get the lady something to -drink--anything that teetotallers won't allow is safe to be wholesome." - -"Come to my house," said the commodore. "Miss Gerald will find -everything there." - -"You bet you'll find something in the spirituous way at the admiral's -quarters, miss," remarked the stranger, as Daireen was helped into the -vehicle. "No, thank you, General, I'll walk to the hotel where I put -up." - -"Pray let me call upon you before I leave," said Colonel Gerald. - -"Delighted to see you, General; if you come within the next two hours, -I'll slip the tinsel off a bottle of Mot with you. Now, don't wait -here. If you had got a pearly stream of salt water running down your -spine you wouldn't wait; would they, miss? Aw revaw." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. - - -``I shall, first asking your pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of -my sudden and more strange return.= - -```O limd soul, that, struggling to be free, - -```Art more engaged.= - -``Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be.--_Hamlet._= - - -|QUITE three hours had passed before Colonel Gerald was able to return -to the hotel. The stranger was sitting in the coffee-room with a tumbler -and a square bottle of cognac in front of him as the colonel entered. - -"Ah, General," cried the stranger, "you are come. I was sorry I said -two hours, you know, because, firstly, I might have known that at the -admiral's quarters the young lady would get as many doses as would make -her fancy something was the matter with her; and, secondly, because I -didn't think that they would take three hours to dry a suit of tweed -like this. You see it, General; this blooming suit is a proof of the low -state of morality that exists in this colony. The man I bought it from -took an oath that it wouldn't shrink, and yet, just look at it. It's a -wicked world this we live in, General. I went to bed while the suit -was being dried, and I believe they kept the fire low so that they may -charge me with the bed. And how is the young lady?" - -"I am happy to say that she has quite recovered from the effects of -her exhaustion and her wetting," said Colonel Gerald. "Had you not been -near, and had you not had that brave heart you showed, my daughter -would have been lost. But I need not say anything to you--you know how I -feel." - -"We may take it for granted," said the man. - -"Nothing that either of us could say would make it plainer, at any rate. -You don't live in this city, General?" - -"No, I live near Cape Town, where I am now returning with my daughter," -said Colonel Gerald. - -"That's queer," said the man. "Here am I too not living here and just -waiting to get the post-cart to bring me to Cape Town." - -"I need scarcely say that I should be delighted if you would accept a -seat with me," remarked the colonel. - -"Don't say that if there's not a seat to spare, General." - -"But, my dear sir, we have two seats to spare. Can I tell my man to put -your portmanteau in?" - -"Yes, if he can find it," laughed the stranger. "Fact is, General, I -haven't any property here except this tweed suit two sizes too small for -me now. But these trousers have got pockets, and the pockets hold a good -many sovereigns without bursting. I mean to set up a portmanteau in Cape -Town. Yes, I'll take a seat with you so far." - -The stranger was scarcely the sort of man Colonel Gerald would have -chosen to accompany him under ordinary circumstances, but now he felt -towards the rough man who had saved the life of his daughter as he would -towards a brother. - -The wagonette drove round to the commodore's house for Daireen, and the -stranger expressed very frankly the happiness he felt at finding her -nothing the worse for her accident. - -And indeed she did not seem to have suffered greatly; she was a -little paler, and the commodore's people insisted on wrapping her up -elaborately. - -"It was so very foolish of me," she said to the stranger, when they -had passed out of Simon's Town and were going rapidly along the road to -Wynberg. "It was so very foolish indeed to sit down upon that rock and -forget all about the tide. I must have been there an hour." - -"Ah, miss," said the man, "I'll take my oath it wasn't of your pa you -were thinking all that time. Ah, these young fellows have a lot to -answer for." - -This was not very subtle humour, Colonel Gerald felt; he found himself -wishing that his daughter had owed her life to a more refined man; but -on the whole he was just as glad that a man of sensitiveness had not -been in the place of this coarse stranger upon that beach a few hours -before. - -"I don't think I am wrong in believing that you have travelled a good -deal," said Colonel Gerald, in some anxiety lest the stranger might -pursue his course of humorous banter. - -"Travelled?" said the stranger. "Perhaps I have. Yes, sir, I have -travelled, not excursionised. I've knocked about God's footstool since -I was a boy, and yet it seems to me that I'm only beginning my travels. -I've been----" - -And the stranger continued telling of where he had been until the oak -avenue at Mowbray was reached. He talked very freshly and frankly of -every place both in the Northern and Southern hemispheres. The account -of his travels was very interesting, though perhaps to the colonel's -servant it was the most entertaining. - -"I have taken it for granted that you have no engagement in Cape Town," -said Colonel Gerald as he turned the horses down the avenue. "We shall -be dining in a short time, and I hope you will join us." - -"I don't want to intrude, General," said the man. "But I allow that -I could dine heartily without going much farther. As for having an -appointment in Cape Town--I don't know a single soul in the colony--not -a soul, sir--unless--why, hang it all, who's that standing on the walk -in front of us?--I'm a liar, General; I do know one man in the colony; -there he stands, for if that isn't Oswin Markham I'll eat him with -relish." - -"It is indeed Markham," said Colonel Gerald. "And you know him?" - -"Know him?" the stranger laughed. "Know him?" Then as the wagonette -pulled up beside where Markham was standing in front of the house, the -stranger leapt down, saying, as he clapped Oswin on the shoulder, "The -General asks me if I know you, old boy; answer for me, will you?" - -But Oswin Markham was staring blankly from the man to Daireen and her -father. - -"You told me you were going to New York," he said at last. - -"And so I was when you packed me aboard the _Virginia_ brig so neatly -at Natal, but the _Virginia_ brig put into Simon's Bay and cut her cable -one night, leaving me ashore. It's Providence, Oswin--Providence." - -Oswin had allowed his hand to be taken by the man, who was the same that -had spent the night with him in the hotel at Pietermaritzburg. Then he -turned as if from a fit of abstraction, to Daireen and the colonel. - -"I beg your pardon a thousand times," he said. "But this meeting with -Mr. Despard has quite startled me." - -"Mr. Despard," said the colonel, "I must ever look on as one of my best -friends, though we met to-day for the first time. I owe him a debt that -I can never repay--my daughter's life." - -Oswin turned and grasped the hand of the man whom he had called Mr. -Despard, before they entered the house together. - -Daireen went in just before Markham; they had not yet exchanged a -sentence, but when her father and Despard had entered one of the rooms, -she turned, saying: - -"A month--a month yesterday." - -"More," he answered; "it must be more." - -The girl laughed low as she went on to her room. But when she found -herself apart from every one, she did not laugh. She had her own -preservation from death to reflect upon, but it occupied her mind less -than the thought that came to her shaping itself into the words, "He has -returned." - -The man of whom she was thinking was standing pale and silent in a room -where much conversation was floating, for Mr. Harwood had driven out -with Markham from Cape Town, and he had a good deal to say on the Zulu -question, which was beginning to be no question. The Macnamara had also -come to pass the evening with Colonel Gerald, and he was not silent. -Oswin watched Despard and the hereditary monarch speaking together, and -he saw them shake hands. Harwood was in close conversation with Colonel -Gerald, but he was not so utterly absorbed in his subject but that he -could notice how Markham's eyes were fixed upon the stranger. The terms -of a new problem were suggesting themselves to Mr. Harwood. - -Then Daireen entered the room, and greeted Mr. Harwood courteously--much -too courteously for his heart's desire. He did not feel so happy as he -should have done, when she laughed pleasantly and reminded him of her -prophecy as to his safe return. He felt as he had done on that morning -when he had said good-bye to her: his time had not yet come. But what -was delaying that hour he yearned for? She was now standing beside -Markham, looking up to his face as she spoke to him. She was not smiling -at him. What could these things mean? Harwood asked himself--Lottie -Vincent's spiteful remark with reference to Daireen at the lunch that -had taken place on the hillside in his absence--Oswin's remark about not -being strong enough to leave the associations of Cape Town--this quiet -meeting without smiles or any of the conventionalities of ordinary -acquaintance--what did all these mean? Mr. Harwood felt that he had at -last got before him the terms of a question the working out of which was -more interesting to him than any other that could be propounded. And -he knew also that this man Despard was an important auxiliary to its -satisfactory solution. - -"Dove of Glenmara, let me look upon your sweet face again, and say that -you are not hurt," cried The Macnamara, taking the girl by both her -hands and looking into her face. "Thank God you are left to be the pride -of the old country. We are not here to weep over this new sorrow. What -would life be worth to us if anything had happened to the pulse of our -hearts? Glenmara would be desolate and Slieve Docas would sit in ashes." - -The Macnamara pressed his lips to the girl's forehead as a condescending -monarch embraces a favoured subject. - -"Bravo, King! you'd make a fortune with that sort of sentiment on the -boards; you would, by heavens!" said Mr. Despard with an unmodulated -laugh. - -The Macnamara seemed to take this testimony as a compliment, for he -smiled, though the remark did not appear to strike any one else as being -imbued with humour. Harwood looked at the man curiously; but Markham was -gazing in another direction without any expression upon his face. - -In the course of the evening the Bishop of the Calapash Islands dropped -in. His lordship had taken a house in the neighbourhood for so long as -he would be remaining in the colony; and since he had had that interview -with Mrs. Crawford, his visits to his old friend Colonel Gerald were -numerous and unconventional. He, too, smiled upon Dairecn in his very -pleasantest manner, and after hearing from the colonel--who felt -perhaps that some little explanation of the stranger's presence might -be necessary--of Daireen's accident, the bishop spoke a few words to Mr. -Despard and shook hands with him--an honour which Mr. Despard sustained -without emotion. - -In spite of these civilities, however, this evening was unlike any that -the colonel's friends had spent at the cottage. The bishop only remained -for about an hour, and Harwood and Markham soon afterwards took their -departure. - -"I'll take a seat with you, Oswin, my boy," said Despard. "We'll be at -the same hotel in Cape Town, and we may as well all go together." - -And they did all go together. - -"Fine fellow, the colonel, isn't he?" remarked Despard, before they had -got well out of the avenue. "I called him general on chance when I -saw him for the first time to-day--you're never astray in beginning at -general and working your way down, with these military nobs. And the -bishop is a fine old boy too--rather too much palm-oil and glycerine -about him, though--too smooth and shiny for my taste. I expect he does -a handsome trade amongst the Salamanders. A smart bishop could make a -fortune there, I know. And then the king--the Irish king as he calls -himself--well, maybe he's the best of the lot." - -There did not seem to be anything in Mr. Despard's opening speech -that required an answer. There was a considerable pause before Harwood -remarked quietly: "By the way, Mr. Despard, I think I saw you some time -ago. I have a good recollection for faces." - -"Did you?" said Despard. "Where was it? At 'Frisco or Fiji? South -Carolina or South Australia?" - -"I am not recalling the possibilities of such faraway memories," said -Harwood. "But if I don't mistake, you were the person in the audience at -Pietermaritzburg who made some remark complimentary to Markham." - -The man laughed. "You are right, mister. I only wonder I didn't shout -out something before, for I never was so taken aback as when I saw him -come out as that Prince. A shabby trick it was you played on me the next -morning, Oswin--I say it was infernally shabby. You know what he did, -mister: when I had got to the outside of more than one bottle of Mot, -and so wasn't very clear-headed, he packed me into one of the carts, -drove me to Durban before daylight, and sent me aboard the _Virginia_ -brig that I had meant to leave. That wasn't like friendship, was it?" - -But upon this delicate question Mr. Harwood did not think it prudent to -deliver an opinion. Markham himself was mute, yet this did not seem to -have a depressing effect upon Mr. Despard. He gave a _rsum_ of -the most important events in the voyage of the _Virginia_ brig, and -described very graphically how he had unfortunately become insensible -to the fact that the vessel was leaving Simon's Bay on the previous -morning; so that when he awoke, the _Virginia_ brig was on her way to -New York city, while he was on a sofa in the hotel surrounded by empty -bottles. - -When Markham was alone with this man in a room at the hotel at Cape -Town, Despard became even more talkative. - -"By heavens, Oswin," he said, "you have changed your company a bit since -you were amongst us; generals, bishops, and kings--kings, by Jingo--seem -to be your chums here. Well, don't you think that I don't believe you to -be right. You were never of our sort in Australia--we all felt you to be -above us, and treated you so--making a pigeon of you now and again, but -never looking on ourselves as your equal. By heavens, I think now that I -have got in with these people and seem to get on so well with them, I'll -turn over a new leaf." - -"Do you mean to stay here longer than this week?" asked Oswin. - -"This week? I'll not leave for another month--another six months, maybe. -I've money, my boy, and--suppose we have something to drink--something -that will sparkle?" - -"I don't mean to drink anything," Oswin replied. - -"You must have something," Despard insisted. "You must admit that though -the colonel is a glorious old boy, he didn't do the hospitable in the -liquid way. But I'll keep in with the lot of them. I'll go out to see -the colonel and his pretty daughter now and again. Ah, by George, that -pretty daughter seems to have played the mischief with some of the young -fellows about here. 'Sir,' says the king of Ireland to me, 'I fale more -than I can till ye: the swate girl ye saved is to be me sonn's broide.' -This looked well enough for the king, and we got very great friends, as -you saw. But then the bishop comes up to me and, says he, 'Sir, allow me -to shake you by the hand. You do not know how I feel towards that young -lady who owes her life to your bravery.' I looked at him seriously: -'Bishop,' said I, 'I can't encourage this sort of thing. You might be -her father.' Well, my boy, you never saw anything so flustered as that -bishop became; it was more than a minute before he could tell me that it -was his son who had the tender heart about the girl. That bishop didn't -ask me to dine with him; though the king did, and I'm going out to him -to-morrow evening." - -"You are going to him?" said Markham. - -"To be sure I am. He agreed with me about the colonel's hospitality in -the drink way. 'You'll find it different in my house,' said the king; -and I think you know, Oswin, that the king and me have one point in -common." - -"Good-night," said Markham, going to the door. "No, I told you I did not -mean to drink anything." - -He left Mr. Despard on the sofa smoking the first of a box of cigars he -had just ordered. - -"He's changed--that boy is," said Despard. "He wouldn't have gone out in -that fashion six months ago. But what the deuce has changed him? -that's what I'd like to know. He wants to get me away from here--that's -plain--plain? by George, it's ugly. But here I am settled for a few -months at least if--hang that waiter, is he never going to bring me that -bottle of old Irish?" - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII. - - -Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play -upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart -of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my -compass....'S blood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a -pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you -cannot play upon me.--_Hamlet_. - - -|OSWIN Markham sat in his own room in the hotel. The window was open, -and through it from the street below came the usual sounds of Cape -Town--terrible Dutch mingling with Malay and dashed with Kafir. It was -not the intensity of a desire to listen to this polyglot mixture that -caused Markham to go upon the balcony and stand looking out to the -night. - -He reflected upon what had passed since he had been in this place a -month before. He had gone up to Natal, and in company of Harwood he had -had a brief hunting expedition. He had followed the spoor of the gemsbok -over veldt and through kloof, sleeping in the house of the hospitable -boers when chance offered; but all the time he had been possessed of -one supreme thought--one supreme hope that made his life seem a joyous -thing--he had looked forward to this day--the day when he would have -returned, when he would again be able to look into the face that moved -like a phantom before him wherever he went. And he had returned--for -this--this looking, not into her face, but into the street below him, -while he thought if it would not be better for him to step out beyond -the balcony--out into the blank that would follow his casting of himself -down. - -He came to the conclusion that it would not be better to step beyond -the balcony. A thought seemed to strike him as he stood out there. He -returned to his chamber and threw himself on his bed, but he did not -remain passive for long; once more he stepped into the air, and now he -had need to wipe his forehead with his handkerchief. - -It was an hour afterwards that he undressed himself; but the bugle at -the barracks had sounded a good many times before he fell asleep. - -Mr. Harwood, too, had an hour of reflection when he went to his room; -but his thoughts were hardly of the excitable type of Markham's; they -had, however, a definite result, which caused him to seek out Mr. -Despard in the morning. - -Mr. Despard had just finished a light and salutary breakfast consisting -of a glass of French brandy in a bottle of soda-water, and he was -smoking another sample of that box of cigars on the balcony. - -"Good-morning to you, mister," he said, nodding as Harwood came, as if -by chance, beside him. - -"Ah, how do you do?" said Harwood. "Enjoying your morning smoke, I see. -Well, I hope you are nothing the worse for your plunge yesterday." - -"No, sir, nothing; I only hope that Missy out there will be as sound. I -don't think they insisted on her drinking enough afterwards." - -"Ah, perhaps not. Your friend Markham has not come down yet, they tell -me." - -"He was never given to running ties with the sun," said Mr. Despard. - -"He told me you were a particular friend of his in Australia?" continued -Mr. Harwood. - -"Yes, men very soon get to be friends out there; but Oswin and myself -were closer than brothers in every row and every lark." - -"Of which you had, no doubt, a good many? - -"A good few, yes; a few that wouldn't do to be printed specially as -prizes for young ladies' boarding-schools--not but what the young ladies -would read them if they got the chance." - -"Few fellows would care to write their autobiographies and go into the -details of their life," said Harwood. "I suppose you got into trouble -now and again?" - -"Trouble? Well, yes, when the money ran short, and there was no balance -at the bank; that's real trouble, let me tell you." - -"It certainly is; but I mean, did you not sometimes need the friendly -offices of a lawyer after a wild few days?" - -"Sir," said Despard, throwing away the end of his cigar, "if your idea -of a wild few days is housebreaking or manslaughter, it wasn't ours, I -can tell you. No, my boy, we never took to bushranging; and though -I've had my turn with Derringer's small cannons when I was at Chokeneck -Gulch, it was only because it was the custom of the country. No, sir; -Oswin, though he seems to have turned against me here, will still have -my good word, for I swear to you he never did anything that made the -place too hot for him, though I don't suppose that if he was in a -competitive examination for a bishopric the true account of his life in -Melbourne would help him greatly." - -"There are none of us here who mean to be bishops," laughed Harwood. -"But I understood from a few words Markham let fall that--well, never -mind, he is a right good fellow, as I found when we went up country -together a couple of weeks ago. By the way, do you mean to remain here -long, Mr. Despard?" - -"Life is short, mister, and I've learned never to make arrangements very -far in advance. I've about eighty sovereigns with me, and I'll stay here -till they're spent." - -"Then your stay will be proportionate to your spending powers." - -"In an inverse ratio, as they used to say at school," said Despard. - -When Mr. Harwood went into the room he reflected that on the whole -he had not gained much information from Mr. Despard; and Mr. Despard -reflected that on the whole Mr. Harwood had not got much information by -his system of leading questions. - -About half an hour afterwards Markham came out upon the balcony, and -gave a little unaccountable start on seeing its sole occupant. - -"Hallo, my boy! have you turned up at last?" cried Despard. "Our good -old Calapash friend will tell you that unless you get up with the lark -you'll never do anything in the world. You should have been here a short -time ago to witness the hydraulic experiments." - -"The what?" said Markham. - -"Hydraulic experiments. The patent pump of the _Dominant Trumpeter_ was -being tested upon me. Experiments failed, not through any incapacity -of the pump, but through the contents of the reservoir worked upon not -running free enough in the right direction." - -"Was Mr. Harwood here?" - -"He was, my boy. And he wanted to know all about how we lived in -Melbourne." - -"And you told him----" - -"To get up a little earlier in the morning when he wants to try his -pumping apparatus. But what made you give that start? Don't you know -that all I could tell would be some of our old larks, and he wouldn't -have thought anything the worse of you on account of them? Hang it -all, you don't mean to say you're going into holy orders, that you mind -having any of the old times brought back? If you do, I'm afraid that -it will be awkward for you if I talk in my ordinary way. I won't bind -myself not to tell as many of our larks as chime in with the general -conversation. I only object on principle to be pumped." - -"Talk away," said Oswin spasmodically. "Tell of all our larks. How could -I be affected by anything you may tell of them?" - -"Bravo! That's what I say. Larks are larks. There was no manslaughter -nor murder. No, there was no murder." - -"No, there was no murder," said Markham. - -The other burst into a laugh that startled a Malay in the street below. - -"By heavens, from the way you said that one would fancy there had been a -murder," he cried. - -Then there was a long pause, which was broken by Markham. - -"You still intend to go out to dine with that man you met yesterday?" he -said. - -"Don't call him a man, Oswin; you wouldn't call a bishop a man, and why -call a king one. Yes, I have ordered a horse that is said to know the -way across those Flats without a pocket compass." - -"Where did you say the house was?" - -"It's near a place called Rondebosch. I remember the locality well, -though it's ten years since I was there. The shortest way back is -through a pine-wood at the far end of The Flats--you know that place, of -course." - -"I know The Flats. And you mean to come through the pine-wood?" - -"I do mean it. It's a nasty place to ride through, but the horse always -goes right in a case like that, and I'll give him his head." - -"Take care that you have your own at that time," said Markham. "The -house of the Irishman is not like Colonel Gerald's." - -"I hope not, for a more thirsty evening I never spent than at your -friend's cottage. The good society hardly made up for the want of drink. -It put me in mind of the story of the man that found the pearls when he -was starving in the desert. What are bishops and kings to a fellow if he -is thirsty?" - -"You will leave the house to return here between eleven and twelve, I -suppose?" said Oswin. - -"Well, I should say that about eleven will see me on my way." - -"And you will go through the pine-wood?" - -"I will, my boy, and across The Flats until I pass the little -river--it's there still, I suppose. And now suppose I buy you a drink?" - -But Oswin Markham declined to be the object of such a purchase. He went -back to his own room, and threw himself on his bed, where he remained -for more than an hour. Then he rose and wiped his forehead. - -He pulled down some books that he had bought, and tried to read bits of -one or two. He sat diligently down as if he meant to go through a day's -reading, but he did not appear to be in the mood for applying himself to -anything. He threw the books aside and turned over some newspapers; but -these did not seem to engross him any more than the books had done. He -lay back in his chair, and after a while his restlessness subsided: he -had fallen asleep. - -It was the afternoon before he awoke with a sudden start. He heard the -sound of voices in the street below his window. He went forward, and, -looking out, was just in time to see Harry Despard mounting his horse at -the hotel door. - -"I will be back about midnight," he said to the porter of the hotel, and -then he trotted off. - -Markham heard the sound of the horse's hoofs die away on the street, and -he repeated the man's words: "About midnight." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. - - -```To desperation turn my trust and hope.= - -````What if this cursed hand - -```Were thicker than itself with brother's blood, - -```Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens - -```To wash it white as snow?= - -````I'll have prepared him - -```A chalice for the nonce whereon but sipping - -`````... he... - -````Chaunted snatches of old tunes, - -```As one incapable.= - -```The drink--the drink--... the foul practice - -```Hath turned itself on me; lo, here I lie... - -```I can no more: the King--the King's to blame.--_Hamlet_.= - - -|OSWIN Markham dined at the hotel late in the evening, and when he was -in the act Harwood came into the room dressed for a dinner-party at -Greenpoint to which he had been invited. - -"Your friend Mr. Despard is not here?" said Harwood, looking around -the room. "I wanted to see him for a moment to give him a few words of -advice that may be useful to him. I wish to goodness you would speak to -him, Markham; he has been swaggering about in a senseless way, talking -of having his pockets full of sovereigns, and in the hearing of every -stranger that comes into the hotel. In the bar a few hours ago he -repeated his boast to the Malay who brought him his horse. Now, for -Heaven's sake, tell him that unless he wishes particularly to have a -bullet in his head or a khris in his body some of these nights, he had -better hold his tongue about his wealth--that is what I meant to say to -him." - -"And you are right," cried Oswin, starting up suddenly. "He has been -talking in the hearing of men who would do anything for the sake of a -few sovereigns. What more likely than that some of them should follow -him and knock him down? That will be his end, Harwood." - -"It need not be," replied Harwood. "If you caution him, he will most -likely regard what you say to him." - -"I will caution him--if I see him again," said Markham; then Harwood -left the room, and Markham sat down again, but he did not continue -his dinner. He sat there staring at his plate. "What more likely?" he -muttered. "What more likely than that he should be followed and murdered -by some of these men? If his body should be found with his pockets -empty, no one could doubt it." - -He sat there for a considerable time--until the streets had become -dark; then he rose and went up to his own room for a while, and finally -he put on his hat and left the hotel. - -He looked at his watch as he walked to the railway station, and saw that -he would be just in time to catch a train leaving for Wynberg. He took -a ticket for the station on the Cape Town side of Mowbray, where he got -out. - -He walked from the station to the road and again looked at his watch: -it was not yet nine o'clock; and then he strolled aside upon a little -foot-track that led up the lower slopes of the Peak above Mowbray. The -night was silent and moonless. Upon the road only at intervals came the -rumbling of bullock wagons and the shouts of the Kafir drivers. The hill -above him was sombre and untouched by any glance of light, and no breeze -stirred up the scents of the heath. He walked on in the silence until he -had come to the ravine of silver firs. He passed along the track at the -edge and was soon at the spot where he had sat at the feet of Daireen a -month before. He threw himself down on the short coarse grass just as -he had done then, and every moment of the hour they had passed together -came back to him. Every word that had been spoken, every thought that -had expressed itself upon that lovely face which the delicate sunset -light had touched--all returned to him. - -What had he said to her? That the past life he had lived was blotted out -from his mind? Yes, he had tried to make himself believe that; but now -how Fate had mocked him! He had been bitterly forced to acknowledge -that the past was a part of the present. His week so full of bitterest -suffering had not formed a dividing line between the two lives he -fancied might be his. - -"Is this the justice of God?" he cried out now to the stars, clasping -his hands in agony above his head. "It is unjust. My life would have -been pure and good now, if I had been granted my right of forgetfulness. -But I have been made the plaything of God." He stood with his hands -clasped on his head for long. Then he gave a laugh. "Bah!" he said; "man -is master of his fate. I shall do myself the justice that God has denied -me." - -He came down from that solemn mount, and crossed he road at a nearer -point than the Mowbray avenue. - -He soon found himself by the brink of that little river which flowed -past Rondebosch and Mowbray. He got beneath the trees that bordered its -banks, and stood for a long time in the dead silence of the night. The -mighty dog-lilies were like pictures beneath him; and only now and again -came some of those mysterious sounds of night--the rustling of certain -leaves when all the remainder were motionless, the winnowing of the -wings of some night creature whose form remained invisible, the sudden -stirring of ripples upon the river without a cause being apparent--the -man standing there heard all, and all appeared mysterious to him. He -wondered how he could have so often been by night in places like this, -without noticing how mysterious the silence was--how mysterious the -strange sounds. - -He walked along by the bank of the slow river, until he was just -opposite Mowbray. A little bridge with rustic rails was, he knew, at -hand, by which he would cross the stream--for he must cross it. But -before he had reached it, he heard a sound. He paused. Could it be -possible that it was the sound of a horse's hoofs? There he waited until -something white passed from under the trees and reached the bridge, -standing between him and the other side of the river--something that -barred his way. He leant against the tree nearest to him, for he seemed -to be falling to the ground, and then through the stillness of the night -the voice of Daireen came singing a snatch of song--his song. She was on -the little bridge and leaning upon the rail. In a few moments she stood -upright, and listlessly walked under the trees where he was standing, -though she could not see him. - -"Daireen," he said gently, so that she might not be startled; and she -was not startled, she only walked backwards a few steps until she was -again at the bridge. - -"Did any one speak?" she said almost in a whisper. And then he stood -before her while she laughed with happiness. - -"Why do you stand there?" he said in a tone of wonder. "What was it sent -you to stand there between me and the other side of that river?" - -"I said to papa that I would wait for him here. He went to see Major -Crawford part of the way to the house where the Crawfords are staying; -but what can be keeping him from returning I don't know. I promised not -to go farther than the avenue, and I have just been here a minute." - -He looked at her standing there before him. "Oh God! oh God!" he said, -as he reflected upon what his own thoughts had been a moment before. -"Daireen, you are an angel of God--that angel which stood between the -living and the dead. Stay near me. Oh, child! what do I not owe to you? -my life--the peace of my soul for ever and ever. And yet--must we speak -no word of love together, Daireen?" - -"Not one--here," she said. "Not one--only--ah, my love, my love, why -should we speak of it? It is all my life--I breathe it--I think it--it -is myself." - -He looked at her and laughed. "This moment is ours," he said with -tremulous passion. "God cannot pluck it from us. It is an immortal -moment, if our souls are immortal. Child, can God take you away from -me before I have kissed you on the mouth?" He held her face between his -hands and kissed her. "Darling, I have taken your white soul into mine," -he said. - -Then they stood apart on that bridge. - -"And now," she said, "you must never frighten me with your strange words -again. I do not know what you mean sometimes, but then that is because -I don't know very much. I feel that you are good and true, and I have -trusted you." - -"I will be true to you," he said gently. "I will die loving you better -than any hope man has of heaven. Daireen, never dream, whatever may -happen, that I shall not love you while my soul lives." - -"I will believe you," she said; and then voices were heard coming down -the lane of aloes at the other side of the river--voices and the sound -of a horse's hoofs. Colonel Gerald and Major Crawford were coming along -leading a horse, across whose saddle lay a black mass. Oswin Markham -gave a start. Then Daireen's father hastened forward to where she was -standing. - -"Child," he said quickly, "go back--go back to the house. I will come to -you in a few minutes." - -"What is the matter, papa?" she asked. "No one is hurt?--Major Crawford -is not hurt?" - -"No, no, he is here; but go, Daireen--go at once." - -She turned and went up the avenue without a word. But she saw that Oswin -was not looking at her--that he was grasping the rail of the bridge -while he gazed to where the horse with its burden stood a few yards away -among the aloes. - -"I am glad you chance to be here, Markham," said Colonel Gerald -hurriedly. "Something has happened--that man Despard----" - -"Not dead--not murdered!" gasped Oswin, clutching the rail with both -hands. - -"Murdered? no; how could he be murdered? he must have fallen from his -horse among the trees." - -"And he is dead--he is dead?" - -"Calm yourself, Markham," said the colonel; "he is not dead." - -"Not in that sense, my boy," laughed Major Crawford. "By gad, if we -could leave the brute up to the neck in the river here for a few hours I -fancy he would be treated properly. Hold him steady, Markham." - -Oswin put his hand mechanically to the feet of the man who was lying -helplessly across the saddle. - -"Not dead, not dead," he whispered. - -"Only dead drunk, unless his skull is fractured, my boy," laughed the -major. "We'll take him to the stables, of course, George?" - -"No, no, to the house," said Colonel Gerald. - -"Run on and get the key of the stables, George," said the major -authoritatively. "Don't you suppose in any way that your house is to be -turned into an hospital for dipsomaniacs. Think of the child." - -Colonel Gerald made a little pause, and then hastened forward to awaken -the groom to get the key of the stables, which were some distance from -the cottage. - -"By gad, Markham, I'd like to spill the brute into that pond," whispered -the major to Oswin, as they waited for the colonel's return. - -"How did you find him? Did you see any accident?" asked Oswin. - -"We met the horse trotting quietly along the avenue without a rider, -and when we went on among the trees we found the fellow lying helpless. -George said he was killed, but I knew better. Irish whisky, my boy, was -what brought him down, and you will find that I am right." - -They let the man slide from the saddle upon a heap of straw when the -stable door was opened by the half-dressed groom. - -"Not dead, Jack?" said Colonel Gerald as a lantern was held to the man's -face. Only the major was looking at the man; Markham could not trust -himself even to glance towards him. - -"Dead?" said the major. "Why, since we have laid him down I have heard -him frame three distinct oaths. Have you a bucket of water handy, my -good man? No, it needn't be particularly clean. Ah, that will do. Now, -if you don't hear a choice selection of colonial blasphemy, he's dead -and, by gad, sir, so am I." - -The major's extensive experience of the treatment of colonial complaints -had, as the result proved, led him to form a correct if somewhat hasty -diagnosis of the present case. Not more than a gallon of the water had -been thrown upon the man before he recovered sufficient consciousness -to allow of his expressing himself with freedom on the subject of his -treatment. - -"I told you so," chuckled the major. "Fill the bucket again, my man." - -Colonel Gerald could only laugh now that his fears had been dispelled. -He hastened to the house to tell Daireen that there was no cause for -alarm. - -By the time the second bucketful had been applied, in pursuance of the -major's artless system of resuscitation, Despard was sitting up talking -of the oppressions under which a certain nation was groaning. He was -sympathetic and humorous in turn; weeping after particular broken -sentences, and chuckling with laughter after other parts of his speech. - -"The Irish eloquence and the Irish whisky have run neck and neck for the -fellow's soul," said the major. "If we hadn't picked him up he would -be in a different state now. Are you going back to Cape Town to-night, -Markham?" - -"I am," said Oswin. - -"That's lucky. You mustn't let George have his way in this matter. This -brute would stay in the cottage up there for a month." - -"He must not do that," cried Markham eagerly. - -"No, my boy; so you will drive with him in the Cape cart to the hotel. -He will give you no trouble if you lay him across the floor and keep -your feet well down upon his chest. Put one of the horses in, my man," -continued the major, turning to the groom. "You will drive in with Mr. -Markham, and bring the cart back." - -Before Colonel Gerald had returned from the house a horse was harnessed -to the Cape cart, Despard had been lifted up and placed in an easy -attitude against one of the seats. And only a feeble protest was offered -by the colonel. - -"My dear Markham," he said, "it was very lucky you were passing where my -daughter saw you. You know this man Despard--how could I have him in my -house?" - -"In your house!" cried Markham. "Thank God I was here to prevent that." - -The Cape cart was already upon the avenue and the lamps were lighted. -But a little qualm seemed to come to the colonel. - -"Are you sure he is not injured--that he has quite recovered from any -possible effects?" he said. - -Then came the husky voice of the man. - -"Go'night, king, go'night. I'm alright--horse know's way. We're -tram'led on, king--'pressed people--but wormil turn--wormil turn--never -mind--Go save Ireland--green flag litters o'er us--tread th' land that -bore us--go'night." - -The cart was in motion before the man's words had ceased. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX. - - -````Look you lay home to him: - -```Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with.= - -```What to ourselves in passion we propose, - -```The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.= - -````I must leave thee, love... - -```And thou shalt live in this fair world behind, - -```Honour'd, belov'd, and haply one as kind - -```For husband shalt thou--= - -```Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife.--_Hamlet_.= - - -|OSWIN Markham lay awake nearly all that night after he had reached the -hotel. His thoughts were not of that even nature whose proper sequence -is sleep. He thought of all that had passed since he had left the -room he was lying in now. What had been on his mind on leaving this -room--what had his determination been? - -"For her," he said; "for her. It would have been for her. God keep -me--God pity me!" - -The morning came with the sound of marching soldiers in the street -below; with the cry of bullock-wagon-drivers and the rattle of the rude -carts; with the morning and the sounds of life--the breaking of the -deadly silence of the night--sleep came to the man. - -It was almost midday before he awoke, and for some time after opening -his eyes he was powerless to recollect anything that had happened during -the night; his awakening now was as his return to consciousness on board -the _Cardwell Castle_,--a great blank seemed to have taken place in his -life--the time of unconsciousness was a gulf that all his efforts of -memory could not at first bridge. - -He looked around the room, and his first consciousness was the -recollection of what his thoughts of the previous evening had been when -he had slept in the chair before the window and had awakened to see -Despard ride away. He failed at once to remember anything of the -interval of night; only with that one recollection burning on his brain -he looked at his right hand. - -In a short time he remembered everything. He knew that Despard was in -the hotel. He dressed himself and went downstairs, and found Harwood in -the coffee-room, reading sundry documents with as anxious an expression -of countenance as a special correspondent ever allows himself to assume. - -"What is the news?" Markham asked, feeling certain that something -unusual had either taken place or was seen by the prophetical vision of -Harwood to be looming in the future. - -"War," said Harwood, looking up. "War, Markham. I should never have left -Natal. They have been working up to the point for the last few months, -as I saw; but now there is no hope for a peaceful settlement." - -"The Zulu chief is not likely to come to terms now?" said Markham. - -"Impossible," replied the other. "Quite impossible. In a few days there -will, no doubt, be a call for volunteers." - -"For volunteers?" Markham repeated. "You will go up country at once, I -suppose?" he added. - -"Not quite as a volunteer, but as soon as I receive my letters by the -mail that arrives in a few days, I shall be off to Durban, at any rate." - -"And you will be glad of it, no doubt. You told me you liked doing -war-correspondence." - -"Did I?" said Harwood; and after a little pause he added slowly: "It's -a tiring life this I have been leading for the past fifteen years, -Markham. I seem to have cut myself off from the sympathies of life. I -seem to have been only a looker-on in the great struggles--the great -pleasures--of life. I am supposed to have no more sympathies than -Babbage's calculator that records certain facts without emotion, and -I fancied I had schooled myself into this cold apathy in looking at -things; but I don't think I have succeeded in cutting myself off from -all sympathies. No, I shall not be glad of this war. Never mind. By the -way, are you going out to Dr. Glaston's to-night?" - -"I have got a card for his dinner, but I cannot tell what I may do. I am -not feeling myself, just now." - -"You certainly don't look yourself, Markham. You are haggard, and -as pale as if you had not got any sleep for nights. You want the -constitution of your friend Mr. Despard, who is breakfasting in the -bar." - -"What, is it possible he is out of his room?" cried Markham, in -surprise. - -"Why, he was waiting here an hour ago when I came down, and in the -meantime he had been buying a suit of garments, he said, that gallant -check of his having come to grief through the night." - -Harwood spoke the words at the door and then he left the room. - -Oswin was not for long left in solitary occupation, however, for in -a few moments the door was flung open, and Despard entered with a -half-empty tumbler in his hand. He came forward with a little chuckling -laugh and stood in front of Oswin without speaking. He looked with his -blood-shot eyes into Oswin's cold pale face, and then burst into a laugh -so hearty that he was compelled to leave the tumbler upon the table, -not having sufficient confidence in his ability to grasp it under the -influence of his excitement. Then he tapped Markham on the shoulder, -crying: - -"Well, old boy, have you got over that lark of last night? Like the old -times, wasn't it? You did the fatherly by me, I believe, though hang -me if I remember what happened after I had drunk the last glass of old -Irish with our friend the king. How the deuce did I get in with the -teetotal colonel who, the boots has been telling me, lent me his cart? -That's what I should like to know. And where were you, my boy, all the -night?" - -"Despard," said Markham, "I have borne with your brutal insults long -enough. I will not bear them any longer. When you have so disgraced both -yourself and me as you did last night, it is time to bring matters to a -climax. I cannot submit to have you thrust yourself upon my friends as -you have done. You behaved like a brute." - -Despard seated himself and wiped his eyes. "I did behave like a brute," -he said. "I always do, I know--and you know too, Oswin. Never mind. Tell -me what you want--what am I to do?" - -"You must leave the colony," said Oswin quickly, almost eagerly. "I -will give you money, and a ticket to England to-day. You must leave this -place at once." - -"And so I will--so I will," said the man from behind his handkerchief. -"Yes, yes, Oswin, I'll leave the colony--I will--when I become a -teetotaller." He took down his handkerchief, and put it into his pocket -with a hoarse laugh. "Come, my boy," he said in his usual voice, "come; -we've had quite enough of that sort of bullying. Don't think you're -talking to a boy, Master Oswin. Who looks on a man as anything the worse -for getting drunk now and again? You don't; you can't afford to. How -often have I not helped you as you helped me? Tell me that." - -"In the past--the accursed past," said Oswin, "I may have made myself a -fool--yes, I did, but God knows that I have suffered for it. Now all is -changed. I was willing to tolerate you near me since we met this time, -hoping that you would think fit, when you were in a new place and -amongst new people, to change your way of life. But last night showed -me that I was mistaken. You can never be received at Colonel Gerald's -again." - -"Indeed?" said the man. "You should break the news gently to a fellow. -You might have thrown me into a fit by coming down like that. Hark you -here, Mr. Markham. I know jolly well that I will be received there and -welcomed too. I'll be received everywhere as well as you, and hang me, -if I don't go everywhere. These people are my friends as well as yours. -I've done more for them than ever you did, and they know that." - -"Fool, fool!" said Oswin bitterly. - -"We'll see who's the fool, my boy. I know my advantage, don't you be -afraid. The Irish king has a son, hasn't he? well, I was welcome with -him last night. The Lord Bishop of Calapash has another blooming male -offspring, and though he hasn't given me an invite to his dinner this -evening, yet, hang me, if he wouldn't hug me if I went with the rest of -you swells. Hang me, if I don't try it at any rate--it will be a lark at -least. Dine with a bishop--by heaven, sir, it would be a joke--I'll go, -oh, Lord, Lord!" Oswin stood motionless looking at him. "Yes," continued -Despard, "I'll have a jolly hour with his lordship the bishop. I'll -fill up my glass as I did last night, and we'll drink the same toast -together--we'll drink to the health of the Snowdrop of Glenmara, as the -king called her when he was very drunk; we'll drink to the fair Daireen. -Hallo, keep your hands off!--Curse you, you're choking me! There!" -Oswin, before the girl's name had more than passed the man's lips, had -sprung forward and clutched him by the throat; only by a violent effort -was he cast off, and now both men stood trembling with passion face to -face. - -"What the deuce do you mean by this sort of treatment?" cried Despard. - -"Despard," said Oswin slowly, "you know me a little, I think. I tell you -if you ever speak that name again in my presence you will repent it. You -know me from past experience, and I have not utterly changed." - -The man looked at him with an expression that amounted to wonderment -upon his face. Then he threw himself back in his chair, and an -uncontrollable fit of laughter seized him. He lay back and almost yelled -with his insane laughter. When he had recovered himself and had wiped -the tears from his eyes, he saw Oswin was gone. And this fact threw him -into another convulsive fit. It was a long time before he was able to -straighten his collar and go to the bar for a glass of French brandy. - -The last half-hour had made Oswin Markham very pale. He had eaten no -breakfast, and he was reminded of this by the servant to whom he had -given directions to have his horse brought to the door. - -"No," he said, "I have not eaten anything. Get the horse brought round -quickly, like a good fellow." - -He stood erect in the doorway until he heard the sound of hoofs. Then -he went down the steps and mounted, turning his horse's head towards -Wynberg. He galloped along the red road at the base of the hill, and -only once he looked up, saying, "For the last time--the last." - -He reached the avenue at Mowbray and dismounted, throwing the bridle -over his arm as he walked slowly between the rows of giant aloes. In -another moment he came in sight of the Dutch cottage. He paused under -one of the Australian oaks, and looked towards the house. "Oh, God, God, -pity me!" he cried in agony so intense that it could not relieve itself -by any movement or the least motion. - -He threw the bridle over a low branch and walked up to the house. His -step was heard. She stood before him in the hall--white and flushed in -turn as he went towards her. He was not flushed; he was still deadly -white. He had startled her, he knew, for the hand she gave him was -trembling like a dove's bosom. - -"Papa is gone part of the way back to Simon's Town with the commodore -who was with us this morning," she said. "But you will come in and wait, -will you not?" - -"I cannot," he said. "I cannot trust myself to go in--even to look at -you, Daireen." - -"Oh, God!" she said, "you are ill--your face--your voice----" - -"I am not ill, Daireen. I have an hour of strength--such strength as is -given to men when they look at Death in the face and are not moved at -all. I kissed you last night----" - -"And you will now," she said, clasping his arm tenderly. "Dearest, do -not speak so terribly--do not look so terrible--so like--ah, that night -when you looked up to me from the water." - -"Daireen, why did I do that? Why did you pluck me from that death to -give me this agony of life--to give yourself all the bitterness that can -come to any soul? Daireen, I kissed you only once, and I can never kiss -you again. I cannot be false to you any longer after having touched -your pure spirit. I have been false to you--false, not by my will--but -because to me God denied what He gave to others--others to whom His gift -was an agony--that divine power to begin life anew. My past still clings -to me, Daireen--it is not past--it is about and around me still--it is -the gulf that separates us, Daireen." - -"Separates us?" she said blankly, looking at him. - -"Separates us," he repeated, "as heaven and hell are separated. We have -been the toys--the playthings, of Fate. If you had not looked out of -your cabin that night, we should both be happy now. And then how was -it we came to love each other and to know it to be love? I struggled -against it, but I was as a feather upon the wind. Ah, God has given us -this agony of love, for I am here to look on you for the last time--to -beseech of you to hate me, and to go away knowing that you love me." - -"No, no, not to go away--anything but that. Tell me all--I can forgive -all." - -"I cannot bring my lips to frame my curse," he said after a little -pause. "But you shall hear it, and, Daireen, pity me as you pitied me -when I looked to God for hope and found none. Child--give me your eyes -for the last time." - -She held him clasped with her white hands, and he saw that her passion -made her incapable of understanding his words. She looked up to him -whispering, "The last time--no, no--not the last time--not the last." - -She was in his arms. He looked down upon her face, but he did not kiss -it. He clenched his teeth as he unwound her arms from him. - -"One word may undo the curse that I have bound about your life," -he said. "Take the word, Daireen--the blessed word for you and -me--_Forget_. Take it--it is my last blessing." - -She was standing before him. She saw his face there, and she gave a -cry, covering her own face with her hands, for the face she saw was that -which had looked up to her from the black waters. - -Was he gone? - -From the river bank came the sounds of the native women, from the -garden the hum of insects, and from the road the echo of a horse's hoofs -passing gradually away. - -Was it a dream--not only this scene of broad motionless leaves, and -these sounds she heard, but all the past months of her life? - -Hours went by leaving her motionless in that seat, and then came the -sound of a horse--she sprang up. He was returning--it was a dream that -had given her this agony of parting. - -"Daireen, child, what is the matter?" asked her father, whose horse it -was she had heard. - -She looked up to his face. - -"Papa," she said very gently, "it is over--all--all over--for ever--I -have only you now." - -"My dear little Dolly, tell me all that troubles you." - -"Nothing troubles me now, papa. I have you near me, and I do not mind -anything else." - -"Tell me all, Daireen." - -"I thought I loved some one else, papa--Oswin--Oswin Markham. But he is -gone now, and I know you are with me. You will always be with me." - -"My poor little Dolly," said Colonel Gerald, "did he tell you that he -loved you?" - -"He did, papa; but you must ask me no more. I shall never see him -again!" - -"Perfectly charming!" said Mrs. Crawford, standing at the door. "The -prettiest picture I have seen for a long time--father and daughter in -each other's arms. But, my dear George, are you not yet dressed for the -bishop's dinner? Daireen, my child, did you not say you would be ready -when I would call for you? I am quite disappointed, and I would be angry -only you look perfectly lovely this evening--like a beautiful lily. The -dear bishop will be so charmed, for you are one of his favourites. Now -do make haste, and I entreat of you to be particular with your shades of -gray." - - - - -CHAPTER XL. - - -````... A list of... resolutes - -```For food and diet, to some enterprise - -```That hath a stomach in't.= - -```My news shall be the fruit to that great feast.= - -```Why, let the stricken deer go weep, - -````The hart ungalld play; - -```For some must watch, while some must sleep; - -````Thus runs the world away.--_Hamlet_.= - - -|THE Bishop of the Calapash Islands and Metropolitan of the Salamander -Archipelago was smiling very tranquilly upon his guests as they arrived -at his house, which was about two miles from Mowbray. But the son of the -bishop was not smiling--he, in fact, seldom smiled; there was a certain -breadth of expression associated with such a manifestation of feeling -that was inconsistent with his ideas of subtlety of suggestion. He was -now endeavouring to place his father's guests at ease by looking only -slightly bored by their presence, giving them to understand that he -would endure them around him for his father's sake, so that there should -be no need for them to be at all anxious on his account. A dinnerparty -in a colony was hardly that sort of social demonstration which Mr. -Glaston would be inclined to look forward to with any intensity of -feeling; but the bishop, having a number of friends at the Cape, -including a lady who was capable of imparting some very excellent advice -on many social matters, had felt it to be a necessity to give this -little dinnerparty, and his son had only offered such a protest against -it as satisfied his own conscience and prevented the possibility of his -being consumed for days after with a gnawing remorse. - -The bishop had his own ideas of entertaining his guests--a matter which -his son brought under his consideration after the invitations had been -issued. - -"There is not such a thing as a rising tenor in the colony, I am sure," -said Mr. Glaston, whose experience of perfect social entertainment was -limited to that afforded by London drawing-rooms. "If we had a rising -tenor, there would be no difficulty about these people." - -"Ah, no, I suppose not," said the bishop. "But I was thinking, Algernon, -that if you would allow your pictures to be hung for the evening, and -explain them, you know, it would be interesting." - -"What, by lamplight? They are not drop-scenes of a theatre, let me -remind you." - -"No, no; but you see your theories of explanation would be understood -by our good friends as well by lamplight as by daylight, and I am sure -every one would be greatly interested." Mr. Glaston promised his father -to think over the matter, and his father expressed his gratitude for -this concession. "And as for myself," continued the bishop, giving his -hands the least little rub together, "I would suggest reading a -few notes on a most important subject, to which I have devoted some -attention lately. My notes I would propose heading 'Observations on -Phenomena of Automatic Cerebration amongst some of the Cannibal Tribes -of the Salamander Archipelago.' I have some excellent specimens of -skulls illustrative of the subject." - -Mr. Glaston looked at his father for a considerable time without -speaking; at last he said quietly, "I think I had better show my -pictures." - -"And my paper--my notes?" - -"Impossible," said the young man, rising. "Utterly Impossible;" and he -left the room. - -The bishop felt slightly hurt by his son's manner. He had treasured up -his notes on the important observations he had made in an interesting -part of his diocese, and he had looked forward with anxiety to a moment -when he could reveal the result of his labours to the world, and yet his -son had, when the opportunity presented itself, declared the revelation -impossible. The bishop felt slightly hurt. - -Now, however, he had got over his grievance, and he was able to smile as -usual upon each of his guests. - -The dinner-party was small and select. There were two judges present, -one of whom brought his wife and a daughter. Then there were two members -of the Legislative Council, one with a son, the other with a daughter; -a clergyman who had attained to the dizzy ecclesiastical eminence of -a colonial deanery, and his partner in the dignity of his office. The -Macnamara and Standish were there, and Mr. Harwood, together with the -Army Boot Commissioner and Mrs. Crawford, the last of whom arrived with -Colonel Gerald and Daireen. - -Mrs. Crawford had been right. The bishop was charmed with Daireen, and -so expressed himself while he took her hand in his and gave her the -benediction of a smile. Poor Standish, seeing her so lovely as she was -standing there, felt his soul full of love and devotion. What was all -the rest of the world compared with her, he thought; the aggregate -beauty of the universe, including the loveliness of the Miss Van der -Veldt who was in the drawing-room, was insignificant by the side of a -single curl of Daireen's wonderful hair. Mr. Harwood looked towards -her also, but his thoughts were somewhat more complicated than those of -Standish. - -"Is not Daireen perfection?" whispered Mrs. Crawford to Algernon -Glaston. - -The bishop's son glanced at the girl critically. - -"I cannot understand that band of black velvet with a pearl in front of -it," he said. "I feel it to be a mistake--yes, it is an error for which -I am sorry; I begin to fear it was designed only as a bold contrast. It -is sad--very sad." - -Mrs. Crawford was chilled. She had never seen Daireen look so lovely. -She felt for more than a moment that she was all unmeet for a wife, so -child-like she seemed. And now the terrible thought suggested itself to -Mrs. Crawford: what if Mr. Glaston's opinion was, after all, fallible? -might it be possible that his judgment could be in error? The very -suggestion of such a thought sent a cold thrill of fear through her. No, -no: she would not admit such a possibility. - -The dinner was proceeded with, after the fashion of most dinners, in a -highly satisfactory manner. The guests were arranged with discrimination -in accordance with a programme of Mrs. Crawford's, and the conversation -was unlimited. - -Much to the dissatisfaction of The Macnamara the men went to the -drawing-room before they had remained more than ten minutes over their -claret. One of the young ladies of the colony had been induced to sing -with the judge's son a certain duet called "La ci darem la mano;" and -this was felt to be extremely agreeable by every one except the bishop's -son. The bishop thanked the young lady very much, and then resumed his -explanation to a group of his guests of the uses of some implements -of war and agriculture brought from the tribes of the Salamander -Archipelago. - -Three of the pictures of Mr. Glaston's collection were hung in the room, -the most important being that marvellous Aholibah: it was placed upon a -small easel at the farthest end of the room, a lamp being at each side. -A group had gathered round the picture, and Mr. Glaston with the utmost -goodnature repeated the story of its creation. Daireen had glanced -towards the picture, and again that little shudder came over her. - -She was sitting in the centre of the room upon an ottoman beside Mrs. -Crawford and Mr. Harwood. Standish was in a group at the lower end, -while his father was demonstrating how infinitely superior were the -weapons found in the bogs of Ireland to the Salamander specimens. The -bishop moved gently over to Daireen and explained to her the pleasure -it would be giving every one in the room if she would consent to sing -something. - -At once Daireen rose and went to the piano. A song came to her lips as -she laid her hand upon the keys of the instrument, and her pure earnest -voice sang the words that came back to her:--= - -```From my life the light has waned: - -````Every golden gleam that shone - -````Through the dimness now has gone: - -```Of all joys has one remained? - -````Stays one gladness I have known? - -```Day is past; I stand, alone, - -```Here beneath these darkened skies, - -```Asking--"Doth a star arise?"= - -She ended with a passion that touched every one who heard her, and then -there was a silence for some moments, before the door of the room was -pushed open to the wall, and a voice said, "Bravo, my dear, bravo!" in -no weak tones. - -All eyes turned towards the door. Mr. Despard entered, wearing an -ill-made dress-suit, with an enormous display of shirt-front, big studs, -and a large rose in his button-hole. - -"I stayed outside till the song was over," he said. "Bless your souls, -I've got a feeling for music, and hang me if I've heard anything that -could lick that tune." Then he nodded confidentially to the bishop. -"What do you say, Bishop? What do you say, King? am I right or wrong? -Why, we're all here--all of our set--the colonel too--how are you, -Colonel?--and the editor--how we all do manage to meet somehow! Birds of -a feather--you know. Make yourselves at home, don't mind me." - -He walked slowly up the room smiling rather more broadly than the bishop -was in the habit of doing, on all sides. He did not stop until he was -opposite the picture of Aholibah on the easel. Here he did stop. He -seemed to be even more appreciative of pictorial art than of musical. He -bent forward, gazing into that picture, regardless of the embarrassing -silence there was in the room while every one looked towards him. He -could not see how all eyes were turned upon him, so absorbed had he -become before that picture. - -The bishop was now certainly not smiling. He walked slowly to the man's -side. - -"Sir," said the bishop, "you have chosen an inopportune time for a -visit. I must beg of you to retire." - -Then the man seemed to be recalled to consciousness. He glanced up from -the picture and looked into the bishop's face. He pointed with one hand -to the picture, and then threw himself back in a chair with a roar of -laughter. - -"By heavens, this is a bigger surprise than seeing Oswin himself," he -cried. "Where is Oswin?--not here?--he should be here--he must see it." - -It was Harwood's voice that said, "What do you mean?" - -"Mean, Mr. Editor?" said Despard. "Mean? Haven't I told you what I mean? -By heavens, I forgot that I was at the Cape--I thought I was still -in Melbourne! Good, by Jingo, and all through looking at that bit of -paint!" - -"Explain yourself, sir?" said Harwood. - -"Explain?" said the man. "That there explains itself. Look at that -picture. The woman in that picture is Oswin Markham's wife, the Italian -he brought to Australia, where he left her. That's plain enough. A -deucedly fine woman she is, though they never did get on together. -Hallo! What's the matter with Missy there? My God! she's going to -faint." - -But Daireen Gerald did not faint. Her father had his arm about her. - -"Papa," she whispered faintly,--"Papa, take me home." - -"My darling," said Colonel Gerald. "Do not look like that. For God's -sake, Daireen, don't look like that." They were standing outside waiting -for the carriage to come up; for Daireen had walked from the room -without faltering. - -"Do not mind me," she said. "I am strong--yes--very--very strong." - -He lifted her into the carriage, and was at the point of entering -himself, when the figure of Mrs. Crawford appeared among the palm -plants. - -"Good heavens, George! what is the meaning of this?" she said in a -whisper. - -"Go back!" cried Colonel Gerald sternly. "Go back! This is some more of -your work. You shall never see my child again!" - -He stepped into the carriage. The major's wife was left standing in the -porch thunderstruck at such a reproach coming from the colonel. Was this -the reward of her labour--to stand among the palms, listening to the -passing away of the carriage wheels? - -It was not until the Dutch cottage had been reached that Daireen, in the -darkness of the room, laid her head upon her father's shoulder. - -"Papa," she whispered again, "take me home--let us go home together." - -"My darling, you are at home now." - -"No, papa, I don't mean that; I mean home--I home--Glenmara." - -"I will, Daireen: we shall go away from here. We shall be happy together -in the old house." - -"Yes," she said. "Happy--happy." - -"What do you mean, sir?" said the _matre d'htel_, referring to a -question put to him by Despard, who had been brought away from the -bishop's house by Harwood in a diplomatically friendly manner. "What do -you mean? Didn't Mr. Markham tell you he was going?" - -"Going--where?" said Harwood. - -"To Natal, sir? I felt sure that he had told you, though he didn't speak -to us. Yes, he left in the steamer for Natal two hours ago." - -"Squaring everything?" asked Despard. - -"Sir!" said the _matre_; "Mr. Markham was a gentleman." - -"It was half a sovereign he gave you then," remarked Despard. Then -turning to Harwood, he said: "Well, Mr. Editor, this is the end of all, -I fancy. We can't expect much after this. He's gone now, and I'm -infernally sorry for him, for Oswin was a good sort. By heavens, didn't -I burst in on the bishop's party like a greased shrapnel? I had taken -a little better than a glass of brandy before I went there, so I was in -good form. Yes, Paulina is the name of his wife. He had picked her up -in Italy or thereabouts. That's what made his friends send him off to -Australia. He was punished for his sins, for that woman made his life a -hell to him. Now we'll take the tinsel off a bottle of Mot together." - -"No," said Harwood; "not to-night." - -He left the room and went upstairs, for now indeed this psychological -analyst had an intricate problem to work out. It was a long time before -he was able to sleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI. - - -CONCLUSION. - - -```What is it you would see? - -```If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.= - -***** - -```And let me speak to the yet unknowing world - -```How these things came about: so shall you hear - -```Of accidental judgments... - -`````purposes mistook.= - -```... let this same be presently performed - -````... lest more mischance - -```On plots and errors happen.--_Hamlet._= - - -|LITTLE more remains to be told to complete the story of the few months -of the lives of the people whose names have appeared in these pages in -illustration of how hardly things go right. - -Upon that night, after the bishop's little dinnerparty, every one, -except Mr. Despard, seemed to have a bitter consciousness of how -terribly astray things had gone. It seemed hopeless to think that -anything could possibly be made right again. If Mrs. Crawford had not -been a pious woman and a Christian, she would have been inclined to say -that the Fates, which had busied themselves with the disarrangement of -her own carefully constructed plans, had become inebriated with their -success and were wantoning in the confusion of the mortals who had been -their playthings. Should any one have ventured to interpret her thoughts -after this fashion, however, Mrs. Crawford would have been indignant -and would have assured her accuser that her only thought was how hardly -things go right. And perhaps, indeed, the sum of her thoughts could not -have been expressed by words of fuller meaning. - -She had been careful beyond all her previous carefulness that her plans -for the future of Daireen Gerald should be arranged so as to insure -their success; and yet, what was the result of days of thoughtfulness -and unwearying toil, she asked herself as she was driving homeward under -the heavy oak branches amongst which a million fire-flies were flitting. -This feeling of defeat--nay, even of shame, for the words Colonel -Gerald had spoken to her in his bitterness of spirit were still in her -mind--was this the result of her care, her watchfulness, her skill of -organisation? Truly Mrs. Crawford felt that she had reason for thinking -herself ill-treated. - -"Major," she said solemnly to the Army Boot Commissioner as he partook -of some simple refreshment in the way of brandy and water before -retiring for the night--"Major, listen to me while I tell you that I -wash my hands clear of these people. Daireen Gerald has disappointed me; -she has made a fool both of herself and of me; and George Gerald grossly -insulted me." - -"Did he really now?" said the major compassionately, as he added another -thimbleful of the contents of the bottle to his tumbler. "Upon my soul -it was too bad of George--a devilish deal too bad of him." Here the -major emptied his tumbler. He was feeling bitterly the wrong done to his -wife as he yawned and searched in the dimness for a cheroot. - -"I wash my hands clear of them all," continued the lady. "The bishop is -a poor thing to allow himself to be led by that son of his, and the son -is a----" - -"For God's sake take care, Kate; a bishop, you know, is not like the -rest of the people." - -"He is a weak thing, I say," continued Mrs. Crawford firmly. "And his -son is--a--puppy. But I have done with them." - -"And _for_ them," said the major, striking a light. - -Thus it was that Mrs. Crawford relieved her pent-up feelings as she went -to her bed; but in spite of the disappointment Daireen had caused her, -and the gross insult she had received from Daireen's father, before she -went to sleep she had asked herself if it might not be well to forgive -George Gerald and to beg of him to show some additional attention to Mr. -Harwood, who was, all things considered, a most deserving man, besides -being a distinguished person and a clever. Yes, she thought that this -would be a prudent step for Colonel Gerald to take at once. If Daireen -had made a mistake, it was sad, to be sure, but there was no reason -why it might not be retrieved, Mrs. Crawford felt; and she fell asleep -without any wrath in her heart against her old friend George Gerald. - -And Arthur Harwood, as he stood in his room at the hotel and looked out -to the water of Table Bay, had the truth very strongly forced upon him -that things had gone far wrong indeed, and with a facility of error -that was terrifying. He felt that he alone could fully appreciate how -terribly astray everything had gone. He saw in a single glance all of -the past; and his scrupulously just conscience did not fail to give him -credit for having at least surmised something of the truth that had -just been brought to light. From the first--even before he had seen -the man--he had suspected Oswin Markham; and, subsequently, had he not -perceived--or at any rate fancied that he perceived--something of the -feeling that existed between Markham and Daireen? - -His conscience gave him ample credit for his perception; but after all, -this was an unsatisfactory set-off against the weight of his reflections -on the subject of the general error of affairs that concerned him -closely, not the least of which was the unreasonable conduct of the -Zulu monarch who had rejected the British ultimatum, and who thus -necessitated the presence of a special correspondent in his dominions. -Harwood, seeing the position of everything at a glance, had come to the -conclusion that it would be impossible for him, until some months had -passed, to tell Daireen all that he believed was in his heart. He knew -that she had loved that man whom she had saved from death, and who had -rewarded her by behaving as a ruffian towards her; still Mr. Harwood, -like Mrs. Crawford, felt that her mistake was not irretrievable. But if -he himself were now compelled by the conduct of this wretched savage -to leave Cape Town for an indefinite period, how should he have an -opportunity of pointing out to Daireen the direction in which her -happiness lay? Mr. Harwood was not generously disposed towards the Zulu -monarch. - -Upon descending to the coffee-room in the morning, he found Mr. Despard -sitting somewhat moodily at the table. Harwood was beginning to think, -now that Mr. Despard's mission in life had been performed, there could -be no reason why his companionship should be sought. But Mr. Despard -was not at all disposed to allow his rapidly conceived friendship for -Harwood to be cut short. - -"Hallo, Mr. Editor, you're down at last, are you?" he cried. "The -colonel didn't go up to, your room, you bet, though he did to me--fine -old boy is he, by my soul--plenty of good work in him yet." - -"The colonel? Was Colonel Gerald here?" asked Harwood. - -"He was, Mr. Editor; he was here just to see me, and have a friendly -morning chat. We've taken to each other, has the colonel and me." - -"He heard that Markham had gone? You told him, no doubt?" - -"Mr. Editor, sir," said Despard, rising to his feet and keeping himself -comparatively steady by grasping the edge of the table,--"Mr. Editor, -there are things too sacred to be divulged even to the Press. There are -feelings--emotions--chords of the human heart--you know all that sort -of thing--the bond of friendship between the colonel and me is something -like that. What I told him will never be divulged while I'm sober. Oswin -had his faults, no doubt, but for that matter I have mine. Which of us -is perfect, Mr. Editor? Why, here's this innocent-looking lad that's -coming to me with another bottle of old Irish, hang me if he isn't a -walking receptacle of bribery and corruption! What, are you off?" - -Mr. Harwood was off, nor did he think if necessary to go through the -formality of shaking hands with the moraliser at the table. - -It was on the day following that Mrs. Crawford called at Colonel -Gerald's cottage at Mowbray. She gave a start when she saw that the -little hall was blocked up with packing-cases. One of them was an old -military camp-box, and upon the end of it was painted in dimly white -letters the name "Lieutenant George Gerald." Seeing it now as she had -often seen it in the days at the Indian station, the poor old campaigner -sat down on a tin uniform-case and burst into tears. - -"Kate, dear good Kate," said Colonel Gerald, laying his hand on her -shoulder. "What is the matter, my dear girl?" - -"Oh, George, George!" sobbed the lady, "look at that case there--look at -it, and think of the words you spoke to me two nights ago. Oh, George, -George!" - -"God forgive me, Kate, I was unjust--ungenerous. Oh, Kate, you do not -know how I had lost myself as the bitter truth was forced upon me. You -have forgiven me long ago, have you not?" - -"I have, George," she said, putting her hand in his. "God knows I have -forgiven you. But what is the meaning of this? You are not going away, -surely?" - -"We leave by the mail to-morrow, Kate," said the colonel. - -"Good gracious, is it so bad as that?" asked the lady, alarmed. - -"Bad? there is nothing bad now, my dear. We only feel--Dolly and -myself--that we must have a few months together amongst our native Irish -mountains before we set out for the distant Castaways." - -Mrs. Crawford looked into his face earnestly for some moments. "Poor -darling little Dolly," she said in a voice full of compassion; "she has -met with a great grief, but I pray that all may yet be well. I will -not see her now, but I will say farewell to her aboard the steamer -to-morrow. Give her my love, George. God knows how dear she is to me." - -Colonel Gerald put his arms about his old friend and kissed her -silently. - -Upon the afternoon of the next day the crowd about the stern of the mail -steamer which was at the point of leaving for England was very large. -But it is only necessary to refer to a few of the groups on the deck. -Colonel Gerald and his old friend Major Crawford were side by side, -while Daireen and the major's wife were standing apart looking together -up to the curved slopes of the tawny Lion's Head that half hid the dark, -flat face of Table Mountain. Daireen was pale almost to whiteness, and -as her considerate friend said some agreeable words to her she smiled -faintly, but the observant Standish felt that her smile was not real, -it was only a phantom of the smiles of the past which had lived upon her -face. Standish was beside his father, who had been so fortunate as to -obtain the attention of Mr. Harwood for the story of the wrongs he had -suffered through the sale of his property in Ireland. - -"What is there left for me in the counthry of my sires that bled?" -he inquired with an emphasis that almost amounted to passion. "The -sthrangers that have torn the land away from us thrample us into the -dust. No, sir, I'll never return to be thrampled upon; I'll go with my -son to the land of our exile--the distant Castaway isles, where the -flag of freedom may yet burn as a beacon above the thunderclouds of our -enemies. Return to the land that has been torn from us? Never." - -Standish, who could have given a very good guess as to the number of -The Macnamara's creditors awaiting his return with anxiety, if not -impatience, moved away quickly, and Daireen noticed his action. She -whispered a word to Mrs. Crawford, and in another instant she and -Standish were together. She gave him her hand, and each looked into the -other's face speechlessly for a few moments. On her face there was a -faint tender smile, but his was full of passionate entreaty, the force -of which made his eyes tremulous. - -"Standish, dear old Standish," she said; "you alone seem good and noble -and true. You will not forget all the happy days we have had together." - -"Forget them?" said Standish. "Oh, Daireen, if you could but know -all--if you could but know how I think of every day we have passed -together. What else is there in the world worth thinking about? Oh, -Daireen, you know that I have always thought of you only--that I will -always think of you." - -"Not yet, Standish," she whispered. "Do not say anything to me--no, -nothing--yet. But you will write every week, and tell me how the -Castaway people are getting on, until we come out to you at the -islands." - -"Daireen, do all the days we have passed together at home--on the -lough--on the mountain, go for nothing?" he cried almost sadly. "Oh, my -darling, surely we cannot part in this way. Your life is not wrecked." - -"No, no, not wrecked," she said with a start, and he knew she was -struggling to be strong. - -"You will be happy, Daireen, you will indeed, after a while. And you -will give me a word of hope now--one little word to make me happy." - -She looked at him--tearfully--lovingly. "Dear Standish, I can only give -you one word. Will it comfort you at all if I say _Hope_, Standish?" - -"My darling, my love! I knew it would come right in the end. The world I -knew could not be so utterly forsaken by God but that everything should -come right." - -"It is only one word I have given you," she said. - -"But what a word, Daireen! oh, the dearest and best word I ever heard -breathed. God bless you, darling! God bless you!" - -He did not make any attempt to kiss her: he only held her white hand -tightly for an instant and looked into her pure, loving eyes. - -"Now, my boy, good-bye," said Colonel Gerald, laying his hand upon -Standish's shoulder. "You will leave next week for the Castaways, and -you will, I know, be careful to obey to the letter the directions of -those in command until I come out to you. You must write a complete -diary, as I told you--ah, there goes the gun! Daireen, here is Mr. -Harwood waiting to shake hands with you." - -Mr. Harwood's hand was soon in the girl's. - -"Good-bye, Miss Gerald. I trust you will sometimes give me a thought," -he said quietly. - -"I shall never forget you, Mr. Harwood," she said as she returned his -grasp. - -In another instant, as it seemed to the group on the shore, the good -steamer passing out of the bay had dwindled down to that white piece of -linen which a little hand waved over the stern. - -"Mr. Harwood," said Mrs. Crawford, as the special correspondent brought -the major's wife to a wagonette,--"Mr. Harwood, I fear we have been -terribly wrong. But indeed all the wrong was not mine. You, I know, will -not blame me." - -"I blame you, Mrs. Crawford? Do not think of such a thing," said -Harwood. "No; no one is to blame. Fate was too much for both of us, Mrs. -Crawford. But all is over now. All the past days with her near us are -now no more than pleasant memories. I go round to Natal in two days, and -then to my work in the camp." - -"Oh, Mr. Harwood, what ruffians there are in this world!" said the lady -just before they parted. Mr. Harwood smiled his acquiescence. His own -experience in the world had led him to arrive unassisted at a similar -conclusion. - -Arthur Harwood kept his work and left by the steamer for Natal two -days afterwards; and in the same steamer Mr. Despard took passage -also, declaring his intention to enlist on the side of the Zulus. -Upon reaching Algoa Bay, however, he went ashore and did not put in an -appearance at the departure of the steamer from the port; so that Mr. -Harwood was deprived of his companionship, which had hitherto been -pretty close, but which promised to become even more so. As there was in -the harbour a small vessel about to proceed to Australia, the anxiety of -the special correspondent regarding the future of the man never reached -a point of embarrassment. - -The next week Standish Macnamara, accompanied by his father, left for -the Castaway Islands, where he was to take up his position as secretary -to the new governor of the sunny group. Standish was full of eagerness -to begin his career of hard and noble work in the world. He felt that -there would be a large field for the exercise of his abilities in the -Castaways, and with the word that Daireen had given him living in his -heart to inspire all his actions, he felt that there was nothing too -hard for him to accomplish, even to compelling his father to return to -Ireland before six months should have passed. - -It was on a cool afternoon towards the end of this week, that Mrs. -Crawford was walking under the trees in the gardens opposite Government -House, when she heard a pleasant little musical laugh behind her, -accompanied by the pat of dainty little high-heeled shoes. - -"Dear, good Mrs. Crawford, why will you walk so terribly fast? It quite -took away the breath of poor little me to follow you," came the voice of -Lottie Vincent Mrs. Crawford turned, and as she was with a friend, she -could not avoid allowing her stout hand to be touched by one of Lottie's -ten-buttoned gloves. "Ah, you are surprised to see me," continued the -young lady. "I am surprised myself to find myself here, but papa would -not hear of my remaining at Natal when he went on to the frontier with -the regiment, so I am staying with a friend in Cape Town. Algernon is -here, but the dear boy is distressed by the number of people. Poor Algy -is so sensitive." - -"Poor who?" cried Mrs. Crawford. - -"Oh, good gracious, what have I said?" exclaimed the artless little -thing, blushing very prettily, and appearing as tremulous as a fluttered -dove. "Ah, my dear Mrs. Crawford, I never thought of concealing it -from you for a moment. I meant to tell you the first of any one in the -world--I did indeed." - -"To tell me what?" asked the major's wife sternly. - -"Surely you know that the dear good bishop has given his consent -to--to--do help me out of my difficulty of explaining, Mrs. Crawford." - -"To your becoming the wife of his son?" - -"I knew you would not ask me to say it all so terribly plainly," said -Lottie. "Ah yes, dear Algy was too importunate for poor little me to -resist; I pitied him and promised to become his for ever. We are -devoted to each other, for there is no bond so fast as that of artistic -sympathy, Mrs. Crawford. I meant to write and thank you for your dear -good-natured influence, which, I know, brought about his proposal. It -was all due, I frankly acknowledge, to your kindness in bringing us -together upon the day of that delightful lunch we had at the grove -of silver leaves. How can I ever thank you? But there is darling Algy -looking quite bored. I must rush to him," she continued, as she saw Mrs. -Crawford about to speak. Lottie did not think it prudent to run the -risk of hearing Mrs. Crawford refer to certain little Indian affairs -connected with Lottie's residence at that agreeable station on the -Himalayas; so she kissed the tips of her gloves, and tripped away to -where Mr. Algernon Glaston was sitting on one of the garden seats. - -"She is a wicked girl," said Mrs. Crawford to her companion. "She has -at last succeeded in finding some one foolish enough to be entrapped by -her. Never mind, she has conquered--I admit that. Oh, this world, this -world!" - -And there can hardly be a doubt that Miss Lottie Vincent, all things -considered, might be said to have conquered. She was engaged to marry -Algernon Glaston, the son of the Bishop of the Calapash Islands and -Metropolitan of the Salamander Group, and this to Lottie meant conquest. - -Of Oswin Markham only a few words need be spoken to close this story, -such as it is. Oswin Markham was once more seen by Harwood. Two months -after the outbreak of the war the special correspondent, in the -exercise of his duty, was one night riding by the Tugela, where a fierce -engagement had taken place between the Zulus and the British troops. -The dead, black and white, were lying together--assagai and rifle -intermixed. Harwood looked at the white upturned faces of the dead men -that the moonlight made more ghastly, and amongst those faces he saw the -stern clear-cut features of Oswin Markham. He was in the uniform of a -Natal volunteer. Harwood gave a start, but only one; he stood above the -dead man for a long time, lost in his own thoughts. Then the pioneers, -who were burying the dead, came up. - -"Poor wretch, poor wretch!" he said slowly, standing there in the -moonlight. "Poor wretch!... If she had never seen him... if... Poor -child!" - - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Daireen, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAIREEN *** - -***** This file should be named 51937-8.txt or 51937-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/3/51937/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -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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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/51937-8.zip b/old/51937-8.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 59ef9ab..0000000 --- a/old/51937-8.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51937-h.zip b/old/51937-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index dfef882..0000000 --- a/old/51937-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51937-h/51937-h.htm b/old/51937-h/51937-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 40df923..0000000 --- a/old/51937-h/51937-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8345 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!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" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> - <title> - Daireen, by Frank Frankfort Moore - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} - .x-small {font-size: 75%;} - .small {font-size: 85%;} - .large {font-size: 115%;} - .x-large {font-size: 130%;} - .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} - .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} - .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} - .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} - .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} - .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; - font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; - text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; - border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} - .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} - span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Daireen, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -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 -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Daireen - Volume 2 of 2 - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51937] -Last Updated: March 13, 2018 - - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAIREEN *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - DAIREEN - </h1> - <h3> - Volume 2 of 2 - </h3> - <h3> - </h3> - <h2> - By Frank Frankfort Moore - </h2> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" alt="frontispiece " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/frontispiece.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> - </a> - </h5> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/titlepage1.jpg" alt="titlepage1 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/titlepage1.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> - </a> - </h5> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/titlepage2.jpg" alt="titlepage2 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/titlepage2.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> - </a> - </h5> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/titlepage3.jpg" alt="titlepage3 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/titlepage3.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> - </a> - </h5> - <blockquote> - <p> - (Transcriber's Note: Chapters XX to XXIV were taken from a print - copy of a different edition as these chapters were missing from the 1880 - print edition from which the rest of the Project Gutenberg edition was - taken. In the inserted four chapters it will be noted that the normal - double quotation marks were printed as single quote marks.) - </p> - </blockquote> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XXXIX. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XL. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XLI. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_CONC"> CONCLUSION. </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIII. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - I have heard of your paintings too. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - <i>Hamlet</i>. His form and cause conjoined, preaching to stones, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Would make them capable. Do not look upon me, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Lest... what I have to do - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Will want true colour.... - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Do you see nothing there? - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - <i>Queen</i>. No, nothing but ourselves. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - <i>Hamlet</i>. Why, look you there... - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal. - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - <i>Hamlet.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> AM so glad to be - beside some one who can tell me all I want to know' said Lottie, - looking up to Colonel Gerald's bronzed face when Mrs. Crawford and - Markham had walked on. - </p> - <p> - 'My dear Lottie, you know very well that you know as much as I do,' - he answered, smiling down at her. - </p> - <p> - 'Oh, Colonel Gerald, how can you say such a thing?' she cried - innocently. 'You know I am always getting into scrapes through my - simplicity.' - </p> - <p> - 'You have managed to get out of a good many in your time, my dear. - Is it by the same means you got out of them, Lottie-your simplicity?' - </p> - <p> - 'Oh, you are as amusing as ever,' laughed the young thing. - 'But you must not be hard upon poor little me, now that I want to - ask you so much. Will you tell me, like a dear good colonel—I know - you can if you choose—what is the mystery about this Mr. Markham?' - </p> - <p> - 'Mystery? I don't hear of any mystery about him.' - </p> - <p> - 'Why, all your friends came out in the some steamer as he did. They - must have told you. Everybody here is talking about him. That's why - I want him for our theatricals: everyone will come to see him.' - </p> - <p> - 'Well, if the mystery, whatever it may be, remains unrevealed up to - the night of the performance, you will have a house all the more crowded.' - </p> - <p> - 'But I want to know all about it for myself. Is it really true that - he had fallen overboard from another ship, and was picked up after being - several weeks at sea?' - </p> - <p> - 'You would be justified in calling that a mystery, at any rate,' - said Colonel Gerald. - </p> - <p> - 'That is what some people here are saying, I can assure you,' - she cried quickly. 'Others say that he was merely taken aboard the - steamer at St. Helena, after having been wrecked; but that is far too - unromantic.' - </p> - <p> - 'Oh, yes, far too unromantic.' - </p> - <p> - 'Then you do know the truth? Oh, please tell it to me. I have always - said I was sure it was true that a girl on the steamer saw him floating on - the horizon with an unusually powerful pilot-glass.' - </p> - <p> - 'Rather mysterious for a fellow to be floating about on the horizon - with a pilot-glass, Lottie.' - </p> - <p> - 'What a shame to make fun of me, especially as our performance is in - the cause of charity, and I want Mr. Markham's name to be the - particular attraction! Do tell me if he was picked up at sea.' - </p> - <p> - 'I believe he was.' - </p> - <p> - 'How really lovely! Floating about on a wreck and only restored - after great difficulty! Our room should be filled to the doors. But what I - can't understand, Colonel Gerald, is where he gets the money he - lives on here. He could not have had much with him when he was picked up. - But people say he is very rich.' - </p> - <p> - 'Then no doubt people have been well informed, my dear. But all I - know is that this Mr. Markham was on his way from New Zealand, or perhaps - Australia, and his vessel having foundered, he was picked up by the - “Cardwell Castle” and brought to the Cape. He had a note for a - few hundred pounds in his pocket which he told me he got cashed here - without any difficulty, and he is going to England in a short time. Here - we are at the room where these pictures are said to be hanging. Be sure - you keep up the mystery, Lottie.' - </p> - <p> - 'Ah, you have had your little chat, I hope,' said Mrs. - Crawford, waiting at the door of Government House until Colonel Gerald and - Lottie had come up. - </p> - <p> - 'A delightful little chat, as all mine with Colonel Gerald are,' - said Lottie, passing over to Mr. Markham. 'Are you going inside to - see the pictures, Mrs. Crawford?' - </p> - <p> - 'Not just yet, my dear; we must find Miss Gerald,' said Mrs. - Crawford, who had no particular wish to remain in close attachment to Miss - Vincent for the rest of the evening. - </p> - <p> - 'Mr. Markham and I are going in,' said Lottie. 'I do so - dote upon pictures, and Mr. Markham can explain them I know; so <i>au - revoir</i>.' - </p> - <p> - She kissed the dainty tips of her gloves and passed up to the small piazza - at the House, near where Major Crawford and some of the old Indians were - sitting drinking their brandy and soda and revolving many memories. - </p> - <p> - 'Let us not go in for a while, Mr. Markham,' she said. 'Let - us stay here and watch them all. Isn't it delightfully cool here? - How tell me all that that dreadful old Mrs. Crawford was saying to you - about me.' - </p> - <p> - 'Upon my word,' said Markham smiling, 'it <i>is</i> - delightfully cool up here.' - </p> - <p> - 'I know she said ever so much; she does so about everyone who has at - any time run against her and her designs. She's always designing.' - </p> - <p> - 'And you ran against her, you think?' - </p> - <p> - 'Of course I did,' cried Lottie, turning round and giving an - almost indignant look at the man beside her. 'And she has been - saying nasty things about me ever since; only of course they have never - injured me, as people get to understand her in a very short time. But what - did she say just now?' - </p> - <p> - 'Nothing, I can assure you, that was not very much in favour of the - theatrical idea I have just promised to work out with you, Miss Vincent: - she told me you were a—a capital actress.' - </p> - <p> - 'She said that, did she? Spiteful old creature! Just see how she is - all smiles and friendliness to Mr. Harwood because she thinks he will say - something about her husband's appointment and the satisfaction it is - giving in the colony in his next letter to the “Trumpeter.” - That is Colonel Gerald's daughter with them now, is it not?' - </p> - <p> - 'Yes, that is Miss Gerald,' answered Markham, looking across - the lawn to where Daireen was standing with Mr. Harwood and some of the - tennis-players as Mrs. Crawford and her companion came up with Mr. - Glaston, whom they had discovered and of whom the lady had taken - possession. The girl was standing beneath the broad leaf of a plantain - with the red sunlight falling behind her and lighting up the deep ravine - of the mountain beyond. Oswin thought he had never before seen her look so - girlishly lovely. - </p> - <p> - 'How people here do run after every novelty!' remarked Miss - Vincent, who was certainly aware that she herself was by no means a - novelty. 'Just because they never happen to have seen that girl - before, they mob her to death. Isn't it too bad? What extremes they - go to in their delight at having found something new! I actually heard a - gentleman say to-day that he thought Miss Geralds face perfect. Could - anything be more absurd, when one has only to see her complexion to know - that it is extremely defective, while her nose is—are you going in - to the pictures so soon?' - </p> - <p> - 'Well, I think so,' said Markham. 'If we don't see - them now it will be too dark presently.' - </p> - <p> - 'Why, I had no idea you were such a devotee of Art,' she - cried. 'Just let me speak to papa for a moment and I will submit - myself to your guidance.' And she tripped away to where the - surgeon-general was smoking among the old Indians. - </p> - <p> - Oswin Markham waited at the side of the balcony, and then Mrs. Crawford - with her entire party came up, Mr. Glaston following with Daireen, who - said, just as she was beside Mr. Markham, 'We are all going to view - the pictures, Mr. Markham; won't you join us?' - </p> - <p> - 'I am only waiting for Miss Vincent,' he answered. Then - Daireen and her companion passed into the room containing the four works - meant to be illustrative of that perfect conception of a subject, and of - the only true method of its treatment, which were the characteristics - assigned to themselves by a certain section of painters with whom Mr. - Glaston enjoyed communion. - </p> - <p> - The pictures had, by Mr. Glaston's direction, been hung in what - would strike an uncultured mind as being an eccentric fashion. But, of - course, there was a method in it. Each painting was placed obliquely at a - window; the natural view which was to be obtained at a glance outside - being supposed to have a powerful influence upon the mind of a spectator - in preparing him to receive the delicate symbolism of each work. - </p> - <p> - 'One of our theories is, that a painting is not merely an imitation - of a part of nature, but that it becomes, if perfectly worked out in its - symbolism, a pure creation of Nature herself,' said Mr. Glaston - airily, as he condescended to explain his method of arrangement to his - immediate circle. There were only a few people in the room when Mrs. - Crawford's party entered. Mr. Glaston knew, of course, that Harwood - was there, but he felt that he could, with these pictures about him, defy - all the criticism of the opposing school. - </p> - <p> - 'It is a beautiful idea,' said Mrs. Crawford; 'is it - not, Colonel Gerald?' - </p> - <p> - 'Capital idea,' said the colonel. - </p> - <p> - 'Rubbish!' whispered Harwood to Markham, who entered at this - moment with Lottie Vincent. - </p> - <p> - 'The absurdity—the wickedness—of hanging pictures in the - popular fashion is apparent to every thoughtful mind,' said the - prophet of Art. 'Putting pictures of different subjects in a row and - asking the public to admire them is something too terrible to think about. - It is the act of a nation of barbarians. To hold a concert and perform at - the same instant selections from Verdi, Wagner, Liszt, and the Oxford - music-hall would be as consistent with the principles of Art as these - Gallery exhibitions of pictures.' - </p> - <p> - 'How delightful!' cried Lottie, lifting up her four-buttoned - gloves in true enthusiasm. 'I have often thought exactly what he - says, only I have never had courage to express myself.' - </p> - <p> - 'It needs a good deal of courage,' remarked Harwood. - </p> - <p> - 'What a pity it is that people will continue to be stupid!' - said Mrs. Crawford. 'For my own part, I will never enter an Academy - exhibition again. I am ashamed to confess that I have never missed a - season when I had the chance, but now I see the folly of it all. What a - lovely scene that is in the small black frame! Is it not, Daireen?' - </p> - <p> - 'Ah, you perceive the Idea?' said Mr. Glaston as the girl and - Mrs. Crawford stood before a small picture of a man and a woman in a - pomegranate grove in a grey light, the man being in the act of plucking - the fruit. 'You understand, of course, the symbolism of the - pomegranate and the early dawn-light among the boughs?' - </p> - <p> - 'It is a darling picture,' said Lottie effusively. - </p> - <p> - 'I never saw such carelessness in drawing before,' said - Harwood so soon as Mr. Glaston and his friends had passed on to another - work. - </p> - <p> - 'The colour is pretty fair, but the drawing is ruffianly.' - </p> - <p> - 'Ah, you terrible critic!' cried Lottie. - </p> - <p> - 'You spoil one's enjoyment of the pictures. But I quite agree - with you; they are fearful daubs,' she added in a whisper. 'Let - us stay here and listen to the gushing of that absurd old woman; we need - not be in the back row in looking at that wonderful work they are crowding - about.' - </p> - <p> - 'I am not particularly anxious to stand either in the front or the - second row,' said Harwood. 'The pavement in the picture is - simply an atrocity. I saw the thing before.' - </p> - <p> - So Harwood, Lottie, and Markham stood together at one of the open windows, - through which were borne the brazen strains of the distant band, and the - faint sounds of the laughter of the lawn-tennis players, and the growls of - the old Indians on the balcony. Daireen and the rest of the party had gone - to the furthest window from which at an oblique angle one of the pictures - was placed. Miss Vincent and Harwood soon found themselves chatting - briskly; but Markham stood leaning against the wall behind them, with his - eyes fixed upon Daireen, who was looking in a puzzled way at the picture. - Markham wondered what was the element that called for this puzzled—almost - troubled expression upon her face, but he could not see anything of the - work. - </p> - <p> - 'How very fine, is it not, George?' said Mrs. Crawford to - Colonel Gerald as they stood back to gaze upon the painting. - </p> - <p> - 'I think I'll go out and have a smoke,' replied the - colonel smiling. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford cast a reproachful glance towards him as he turned away, but - Mr. Glaston seemed oblivious to every remark. - </p> - <p> - 'Is it not wonderful, Daireen?' whispered Mrs. Crawford to the - girl. - </p> - <p> - 'Yes,' said Daireen, 'I think it is—wonderful,' - and the expression upon her face became more troubled still. - </p> - <p> - The picture was composed of a single figure—a half-naked, - dark-skinned female with large limbs and wild black hair. She was standing - in a high-roofed oriental kiosk upon a faintly coloured pavement, gazing - with fierce eyes upon a decoration of the wall, representing a battle in - which elephants and dromedaries were taking part. Through one of the - arched windows of the building a purple hill with a touch of sunset - crimson upon its ridge was seen, while the Evening Star blazed through the - dark blue of the higher heaven. - </p> - <p> - Daireen looked into the picture, and when she saw the wild face of the - woman she gave a shudder, though she scarcely knew why. - </p> - <p> - 'All but the face,' she said. 'It is too terrible—there - is nothing of a woman about it.' - </p> - <p> - 'My dear child, that is the chief wonder of the picture,' said - Mr. Glaston. 'You recognise the subject, of course?' - </p> - <p> - 'It might be Cleopatra,' said Daireen dubiously. - </p> - <p> - 'Oh, hush, hush! never think of such a thing again,' said Mr. - Glaston with an expression that would have meant horror if it had not been - tempered with pity. 'Cleopatra is vulgar—vulgar—popular. - That is Aholibah.' - </p> - <p> - 'You remember, of course, my dear,' said Mrs. Crawford; - 'she is a young woman in the Bible—one of the old parts—Daniel - or Job or Hezekiah, you know. She was a Jewess or an Egyptian or something - of that sort, like Judith, the young person who drove a nail into somebody's - brain—they were always doing disagreeable things in those days. I - can't recollect exactly what this dreadful creature did, but I think - it was somehow connected with the head of John the Baptist.' - </p> - <p> - 'Oh, no, no,' said Daireen, still keeping her eyes fixed upon - the face of the figure as though it had fascinated her. - </p> - <p> - 'Aholibah the painter has called it,' said - </p> - <p> - Mr. Glaston. 'But it is the symbolism of the picture that is most - valuable. Wonderful thought that is of the star—Astarte, you know - —shedding the light by which the woman views the picture of one of - her lovers.' - </p> - <p> - 'Oh!' exclaimed Mrs. Crawford in a shocked way, forgetting for - the moment that they were talking on Art. Then she recollected herself and - added apologetically, 'They were dreadful young women, you know, - dear.' - </p> - <p> - 'Marvellous passion there is in that face,' continued the - young man. 'It contains a lifetime of thought—of suffering. It - is a poem—it is a precious composition of intricate harmonies.' - </p> - <p> - 'Intricate! I should think it is,' said Harwood to Lottie, in - the distant window. - </p> - <p> - 'Hush!' cried the girl, 'the high-priest is beginning to - speak.' - </p> - <p> - 'The picture is perhaps the only one in existence that may be said - to be the direct result of the three arts as they are termed, though we - prefer to think that there is not the least distinction between the - methods of painting, poetry, and music,' said Mr. Glaston. 'I - chanced to drop in to the studio of my friend who painted this, and I - found him in a sad state of despondency. He had nearly all of the details - of the picture filled in; the figure was as perfect as it is at present—all - except the expression of the face. “I have been thinking about it - for days,” said the poor fellow, and I could see that his face was - haggard with suffering; “but only now and again has the expression I - want passed across my mind, and I have been unable to catch it.” I - looked at the unfinished picture,' continued Mr. Glaston, 'and - I saw what he wanted. I stood before the picture in silence for some time, - and then I composed and repeated a sonnet which I fancied contained the - missing expression of passion. He sprang up and seized my hand, and his - face brightened with happiness: I had given him the absent idea, and I - left him painting enthusiastically. A few days after, however, I got a - line from him entreating me to come to him. I was by his side in an hour, - and I found him in his former state of despondency. “It has passed - away again,” he said, “and I want you to repeat your sonnet.” - Unfortunately I had forgotten every line of the sonnet, and when I told - him so he was in agony. But I begged of him not to despair. I brought the - picture and placed it before me on a piano. I looked at it and composed an - impromptu that I thought suggested the exact passion he wanted for the - face. The painter stood listening with his head bowed down to his hands. - When I ended he caught up the picture. “I see it all clearly,” - he cried; “you have saved me—you have saved the picture.” - Two days afterwards he sent it to me finished as it is now.' - </p> - <p> - 'Wonderful! is it not, Daireen?' said Mrs. Crawford, as the - girl turned away after a little pause. - </p> - <p> - 'The face,' said Daireen gently; 'I don't want - ever to see it again. Let us look at something else.' - </p> - <p> - They turned away to the next picture; but Markham, who had been observing - the girl's face, and had noticed that little shudder come over her, - felt strangely interested in the painting, whatever it might be, that had - produced such an impression upon her. He determined to go unobserved over - to the window where the work was hanging so soon as everyone would have - left it. - </p> - <p> - 'It requires real cleverness to compose such a story as that of Mr. - Glaston's,' said Lottie Vincent to Mr. Harwood. - </p> - <p> - 'It sounded to me all along like a clever bit of satire, and I - daresay it was told to him as such,' said Harwood. 'It only - needed him to complete the nonsense by introducing another of the fine - arts in the working out of that wonderfully volatile expression.' - </p> - <p> - 'Which is that?' said Lottie; 'do tell me, like a good - fellow,' and she laid the persuasive finger of a four-buttoned glove - upon his arm. - </p> - <p> - 'Certainly. I will finish the story for you,' said Harwood, - giving the least little imitation of the lordly manner of Mr. Glaston. - 'Yes, my friend the painter sent a telegram to me a few years after - I had performed that impromptu, and I was by his side in an hour. I found - him at least twenty years older in appearance, and he was searching with a - lighted candle in every corner of the studio for that expression of - passion which had once more disappeared. - </p> - <p> - What could I do? I had exhausted the auxiliaries of poetry and music, but - fortunately another art remained to me; you have heard of the poetry of - motion? In an instant I had mounted the table and had gone through a - breakdown of the most æsthetic design, when I saw his face lighten—his - grey hairs turned once more to black—long artistic oily black. - “I have found it,” he cried, seizing the hearthbrush and - dipping it into the paint just as I completed the final attitude: it was - found—but—what is the matter, Miss Vincent?' - </p> - <p> - 'Look!' she whispered. 'Look at Mr. Markham.' - </p> - <p> - 'Good heavens!' cried Harwood, starting up, 'is he going - to fall? No, he has steadied himself by the window. I thought he was - beside us.' - </p> - <p> - 'He went over to the picture a second ago, and I saw that pallor - come over him,' said Lottie. - </p> - <p> - Harwood hastened to where Oswin Markham was standing, his white face - turned away from the picture, and his hand clutching the rail of a - curtain. - </p> - <p> - 'What is the matter, Markham?' said Harwood quietly. 'Are - you faint?' - </p> - <p> - Markham turned his eyes upon him with a startled expression, and a smile - that was not a smile came upon his face. - </p> - <p> - 'Faint? yes,' he said. 'This room after the air. I'll - be all right. Don't make a scene, for God's sake.' - </p> - <p> - 'There is no need,' said Harwood. 'Sit down here, and I'll - get you a glass of brandy.' - </p> - <p> - 'Not here,' said Markham, giving the least little side glance - towards the picture. 'Not here, but at the open window.' - </p> - <p> - Harwood helped him over to the open window, and he fell into a seat beside - it and gazed out at the lawn-tennis players, quite regardless of Lottie - Vincent standing beside him and enquiring how he felt. - </p> - <p> - In a few minutes Harwood returned with some brandy in a glass. - </p> - <p> - 'Thanks, my dear fellow,' said the other, drinking it off - eagerly. 'I feel better now—all right, in fact.' - </p> - <p> - 'This, of course, you perceive,' came the voice of Mr. Glaston - from the group who were engrossed over the wonders of the final picture,—'This - is an exquisite example of a powerful mind endeavouring to subdue the - agony of memory. Observe the symbolism of the grapes and vine leaves.' - </p> - <p> - In the warm sunset light outside the band played on, and Miss Vincent - flitted from group to group with the news that this Mr. Markham had added - to the romance which was already associated with his name, by fainting in - the room with the pictures. She was considerably surprised and mortified - to see him walking with Miss Gerald to the colonel's carriage in - half an hour afterwards. - </p> - <p> - 'I assure you,' she said to some one who was laughing at her,—'I - assure you I saw him fall against the window at the side of one of the - pictures. If he was not in earnest, he will make our theatricals a great - success, for he must be a splendid actor.' - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIV. - </h2> - <p class="indent20"> - Rightly to be great - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Is not to stir without great argument. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - So much was our love - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - We would not understand what was most fit. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - She is so conjunctive to my life and soul - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - That, as the star moves not but in his sphere, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - I could not but by her. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - How should I your true love know - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - From another one?—<i>Hamlet</i>. - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>LL was not well - with Mr. Standish MacDermot in these days. He was still a guest at that - pleasant little Dutch cottage of Colonel Gerald's at Mowbray, and he - received invitations daily to wherever Daireen and her father were going. - This was certainly all that he could have expected to make him feel at - ease in the strange land; but somehow he did not feel at ease. He made - himself extremely pleasant everywhere he went, and he was soon a general - favourite, though perhaps the few words Mrs. Crawford now and again let - fall on the subject of his parentage had as large an influence as his own - natural charm of manner in making the young Irishman popular. Ireland was - a curious place most of the people at the Cape thought. They had heard of - its rebellions and of its secret societies, and they had thus formed an - idea that the island was something like a British colony of which the - aborigines had hardly been subdued. The impression that Standish was the - son of one of the kings of the land, who, like the Indian maharajahs, they - believed, were allowed a certain revenue and had their titles acknowledged - by the British Government, was very general; and Standish had certainly - nothing to complain of as to his treatment. But still all was not well - with Standish. - </p> - <p> - He had received a letter from his father a week after his arrival - imploring him to return to the land of his sires, for The MacDermot had - learned from the ancient bard O'Brian, in whom the young man had - confided, that Standish's destination was the Cape, and so he had - been able to write to some address. The MacDermot promised to extend his - forgiveness to his son, and to withdraw his threat of disinheritance, if - he would return; and he concluded his letter by drawing a picture of the - desolation of the neighbourhood owing to the English projectors of a - railway and a tourists' hotel having sent a number of surveyors to - the very woods of Innishdermot to measure and plan and form all sorts of - evil intentions about the region. Under these trying circumstances, The - Mac-Dermot implored his son to grant him the consolation of his society - once more. What was still more surprising to Standish was the enclosure in - the letter of an order for a considerable sum of money, for he fancied - that his father had previously exhausted every available system of - leverage for the raising of money. - </p> - <p> - But though it was very sad for Standish to hear of the old man sitting - desolate beside the lonely hearth of Innishdermot castle, he made up his - mind not to return to his home. He had set out to work in the world, and - he would work, he said. He would break loose from this pleasant life he - was at present leading, and he would work. Every night he made this - resolution, though as yet the concrete form of the thought as to what sort - of work he meant to set about had not suggested itself. He would work - nobly and manfully for her, he swore, and he would never tell her of his - love until he could lay his work at her feet and tell her that it had been - done all for her. Meantime he had gone to that garden party at Government - House and to several other entertainments, while nearly every day he had - been riding by the side of Daireen over The Flats or along the beautiful - road to Wynberg. - </p> - <p> - And all the time that Standish was resolving not to open his lips in an - endeavour to express to Daireen all that was in his heart, another man was - beginning to feel that it would be necessary to take some step to reveal - himself to the girl. Arthur Harwood had been analyzing his own heart every - day since he had gazed out to the far still ocean from the mountain above - Funchal with Daireen beside him, and now he fancied he knew every thought - that was in his heart. - </p> - <p> - He knew that he had been obliged to deny himself in his youth the luxury - of love. He had been working himself up to his present position by his own - industry and the use of the brains that he felt must be his capital in - life, and he knew he dared not even think of falling in love. But, when he - had passed the age of thirty and had made a name and a place for himself - in the world, he was aware that he might let his affections go fetterless; - but, alas, it seemed that they had been for too long in slavery: they - refused to taste the sweets of freedom, and it appeared that his nature - had become hard and unsympathetic. But it was neither, he knew in his own - soul, only he had been standing out of the world of softness and of - sympathy, and had built up for himself unconsciously an ideal whose - elements were various and indefinable, his imagination only making it a - necessity that not one of these elements of his ideal should be possible - to be found in the nature of any of the women with whom he was acquainted - and whom he had studied. - </p> - <p> - When he had come to know Daireen Gerald—and he fancied he had come - to know her—he felt that he was no longer shut out from the world of - love with his cold ideal. He had thought of her day by day aboard the - steamer as he had thought of no girl hitherto in his life, and he had - waited for her to think of him and to become conscious that he loved her. - Considering that one of the most important elements of his vague ideal was - a complete and absolute unconsciousness of any passion, it was scarcely - consistent for him now to expect that Daireen should ever perceive the - feeling of his secret heart. - </p> - <p> - He had, however, made up his mind to remain at the Cape instead of going - on to the Castaway Islands; and he had written long and interesting - letters to the newspaper which he represented, on the subject of the - attitude of the Kafir chief who, he heard, had been taking an attitude. - Then he had had several opportunities of riding the horse that Colonel - Gerald had placed at his disposal; but though he had walked and conversed - frequently with the daughter of Colonel Gerald, he felt that it would be - necessary for him to speak more directly what he at least fancied was in - his heart; so that while poor Standish was swearing every night to keep - his secret, Mr. Harwood was thinking by what means he could contrive to - reveal himself and find out what were the girl's feelings with - regard to himself. - </p> - <p> - In the firmness of his resolution Standish was one afternoon, a few days - after the garden party, by the side of Daireen on the furthest extremity - of The Flats, where there was a small wood of pines growing in a sandy - soil of a glittering whiteness. They pulled up their horses here amongst - the trees, and Daireen looked out at the white plain beyond; but poor - Standish could only gaze upon her wistful face. - </p> - <p> - 'I like it,' she said musingly. 'I like that snow. Don't - you think it is snow, Standish?' - </p> - <p> - 'It is exactly the same,' he answered. 'I can feel a - chill pass over me as I look upon it. I hate it.' - </p> - <p> - 'Oh!' cried the girl, 'don't say that when I have - said I like it.' - </p> - <p> - 'Why should that matter?' he said sternly, for he was feeling - his resolution very strong within him. - </p> - <p> - She laughed. 'Why, indeed? Well, hate it as much as you wish, - Standish, it won't interfere with my loving it, and thinking of how - I used to enjoy the white winters at home. Then, you know, I used to be - thinking of places like this—places with plants like those aloes - that the sun is glittering over.' - </p> - <p> - 'And why I hate it,' said Standish, 'is because it puts - me in mind of the many wretched winters I spent in the miserable idleness - of my home. While others were allowed some chance of making their way in - the world—making names for themselves—there was I shut up in - that gaol. I have lost every chance I might have had—everyone is - before me in the race.' - </p> - <p> - 'In what race, Standish? In the race for fame?' - </p> - <p> - 'Yes, for fame,' cried Standish; 'not that I value fame - for its own sake,' he added. 'No, I don't covet it, - except that—Daireen, I think there is nothing left for me in the - world—I am shut out from every chance of reaching anything. I was - wretched at home, but I feel even more wretched here.' - </p> - <p> - 'Why should you do that, Standish?' she asked, turning her - eyes upon him. 'I am sure everyone here is very kind.' - </p> - <p> - 'I don't want their kindness, Daireen; it is their kindness - that makes me feel an impostor. What right have I to receive their - kindness? Yes, I had better take my father's advice and return by - next mail. I am useless in the world—it doesn't want me.' - </p> - <p> - 'Don't talk so stupidly—so wickedly,' said the - girl gravely. 'You are not a coward to set out in the world and turn - back discouraged even before you have got anything to discourage you.' - </p> - <p> - 'I am no coward,' he said; 'but everything has been too - hard for me. I am a fool—a wretched fool to have set my heart—my - soul, upon an object I can never reach.' - </p> - <p> - 'What do you mean, Standish? You haven't set your heart upon - anything that you may not gain in time. You will, I know, if you have - courage, gain a good and noble name for yourself.' - </p> - <p> - 'Of what use would it be to me, Daireen? It would only be a mockery - to me—a bitter mockery unless—Oh, Daireen, it must come, you - have forced it from me—I will tell you and then leave you for ever—Daireen, - I don't care for anything in the world but to have you love me—a - little, Daireen. What would a great name be to me unless——' - </p> - <p> - 'Hush, Standish,' said the girl with her face flushed and - almost angry. 'Do not ever speak to me like this again. Why should - all our good friendship come to an end?' She had softened towards - the close of her sentence, and she was now looking at him in tenderness. - </p> - <p> - 'You have forced me to speak,' he said. 'God knows how I - have struggled to hold my secret deep down in my heart—how I have - sworn to hold it, but it forced itself out—we are not masters of - ourselves, Daireen. Now tell me to leave you—I am prepared for it, - for my dream, I knew, was bound to vanish at a touch.' - </p> - <p> - 'Considering that I am four miles from home and in a wood, I cannot - tell you to do that,' she said with a laugh, for all her anger had - been driven away. 'Besides that, I like you far too well to turn you - away; but, Standish, you must never talk so to me again. Now, let us - return.' - </p> - <p> - 'I know I must not, because I am a beggar,' he said almost - madly. 'You will love some one who has had a chance of making a name - for himself in the world. I have had no chance.' - </p> - <p> - 'Standish, I am waiting for you to return.' - </p> - <p> - 'Yes, I have seen them sitting beside you aboard the steamer,' - continued Standish bitterly, 'and I knew well how it would be.' - He looked at her almost fiercely. 'Yes, I knew it—you have - loved one of them.' - </p> - <p> - Daireen's face flushed fearfully and then became deathly pale as she - looked at him. She did not utter a word, but looked into his face steadily - with an expression he had never before seen upon hers. He became - frightened. - </p> - <p> - 'Daireen—dearest Daireen, forgive me,' he cried. I am a - fool—no, worse—I don't know what I say. Daireen, pity me - and forgive me. Don't look at me that way, for God's sake. - Speak to me.' - </p> - <p> - 'Come away,' she said gently. 'Come away, Standish.' - </p> - <p> - 'But tell me you forgive me, Daireen,' he pleaded. - </p> - <p> - 'Come away,' she said. - </p> - <p> - She turned her horse's head towards the track which was made through - that fine white sand and went on from amongst the pines. He followed her - with a troubled mind, and they rode side by side over the long flats of - heath until they had almost reached the lane of cactus leading to Mowbray. - In a few minutes they would be at the Dutch cottage, and yet they had not - interchanged a word. Standish could not endure the silence any longer. He - pulled up his horse suddenly. - </p> - <p> - 'Daireen,' he said. 'I have been a fool—a wicked - fool, to talk to you as I did. I cannot go on until you say you forgive - me.' - </p> - <p> - Then she turned round and smiled on him, holding out her hand. - </p> - <p> - 'We are very foolish, Standish,' she said. 'We are both - very foolish. Why should I think anything of what you said? We are still - good friends, Standish.' - </p> - <p> - 'God bless you!' he cried, seizing her hand fervently. 'I - will not make myself a fool again.' 'And I,' said the - girl, 'I will not be a fool again.' - </p> - <p> - So they rode back together. But though Standish had received forgiveness - he was by no means satisfied with the girl's manner. There was an - expression that he could not easily read in that smile she had given him. - He had meant to be very bitter towards her, but had not expected her to - place him in a position requiring forgiveness. She had forgiven him, it - was true, but then that smile of hers—what was that sad wistful - expression upon her face? He could not tell, but he felt that on the whole - he had not gained much by the resolutions he had made night after night. - He was inclined to be dissatisfied with the result of his morning's - ride, nor was this feeling perceptibly decreased by seeing beneath one of - the broad-leaved trees that surrounded the cottage the figure of Mr. - Arthur Harwood by the side of Colonel Gerald. - </p> - <p> - Harwood came forward as Daireen reined up on the avenue. - </p> - <p> - 'I have come to say good-bye to you,' he said, looking up to - her face. - </p> - <p> - 'Good-bye?' she answered. 'Why, you haven't said - good-morning yet.' - </p> - <p> - Mr. Harwood was a clever man and he knew it; but his faculty for reading - what was passing in another person's mind did not bring him - happiness always. He had made use of what he meant to be a test sentence - to Daireen, and the result of his observation of its effect was not wholly - pleasant to him. He had hoped for a little flush—a little trembling - of the hand, but neither had come; a smile was on her face, and the pulses - of the hand she held out to him were unruffled. He knew then that the time - had not yet come for him to reveal himself. - </p> - <p> - But why should you say good-bye?' she asked after she had greeted - him. - </p> - <p> - 'Well, perhaps I should only say <i>au revoir</i>, though, upon my - word, the state of the colony is becoming so critical that one going up - country should always say good-bye. Yes, my duties call me to leave all - this pleasant society, Miss Gerald. I am going among the Zulus for a - while.' - </p> - <p> - 'I have every confidence in you, Mr. Harwood,' she said. - 'You will return in safety. We will miss you greatly, but I know how - much the people at home will be benefited by hearing the result of your - visit; so we resign ourselves to your absence. But indeed we shall miss - you.' - </p> - <p> - 'And if a treacherous assegai should transfix me, I trust my fate - will draw a single tear,' he said. - </p> - <p> - There was a laugh as Daireen rode round to dismount and Harwood went in to - lunch. It was very pleasant chat he felt, but he was as much dissatisfied - with her laugh as Standish had been with her smile. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXV. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - Sure, He that made us with such large discourse, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Looking before and after, gave us not - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - That capability and godlike reason - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - To fust in us unused. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - Yet do I believe - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The origin and commencement of his grief - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Sprung from neglected love. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - ... he repulsed—a short tale to make— - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Fell into a sadness, then into a fast, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Thence to a lightness; and by this declension - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Into the madness.—<i>Hamlet.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE very - pleasantness of the lunch Harwood had at the Dutch cottage made his visit - seem more unsatisfactory to him. He had come up to the girl with that - sentence which should surely have sounded pathetic even though spoken with - indifference. He was beside her to say good-bye. He had given her to - understand that he was going amongst the dangers of a disturbed part of - the country, but the name of the barbarous nation had not made her cheek - pale. It was well enough for himself to make light of his adventurous - undertaking, but he did not think that her smiles in telling him that she - would miss him were altogether becoming. - </p> - <p> - Yes, as he rode towards Cape Town he felt that the time had not yet come - for him to reveal himself to Daireen Gerald. He would have to be patient, - as he had been for years. - </p> - <p> - Thus far he had found out negatively how Daireen felt towards himself: she - liked him, he knew, but only as most women liked him, because he could - tell them in an agreeable way things that they wanted to know—because - he had travelled everywhere and had become distinguished. He was not a - conceited man, but he knew exactly how he stood in the estimation of - people, and it was bitter for him to reflect that he did not stand - differently with regard to Miss Gerald. But he had not attempted to - discover what were Daireen's feelings respecting any one else. He - was well aware that Mrs. Crawford was anxious to throw Mr. Glaston in the - way of the girl as much as possible; but he felt that it would take a long - time for Mr. Glaston to make up his mind to sacrifice himself at Daireen's - feet, and Daireen was far too sensible to be imposed upon by his artistic - flourishes. As for this young Mr. Standish Macnamara, Harwood saw at once - that Daireen regarded him with a friendliness that precluded the - possibility of love, so he did not fear the occupation of the girl's - heart by Standish. But when Harwood began to think of Oswin Markham—he - heard the sound of a horse's hoofs behind him, and Oswin Markham - himself trotted up, looking dusty and fatigued. - </p> - <p> - “I thought I should know your animal,” said Markham, “and - I made an effort to overtake you, though I meant to go easily into the - town.” - </p> - <p> - Harwood looked at him and then at his horse. - </p> - <p> - “You seem as if you owed yourself a little ease,” he said. - “You must have done a good deal in the way of riding, judging from - your appearance.” - </p> - <p> - “A great deal too much,” replied Markham. “I have been - on the saddle since breakfast.” - </p> - <p> - “You have been out every morning for the past three days before I - have left my room. I was quite surprised when I heard it, after the - evidence you gave at the garden party of your weakness.” - </p> - <p> - “Of my weakness, yes,” said Markham, with a little laugh. - “It was wretchedly weak to allow myself to be affected by the change - from the open air to that room, but it felt stifling to me.” - </p> - <p> - “I didn't feel the difference to be anything considerable,” - said Harwood; “so the fact of your being overcome by it proves that - you are not in a fit state to be playing with your constitution. Where did - you ride to-day?” - </p> - <p> - “Where? Upon my word I have not the remotest idea,” said - Markham. “I took the road out to Simon's Bay, but I pulled up - at a beach on the nearer side of it, and remained there for a good while.” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing could be worse than riding about in this aimless sort of - way. Here you are completely knocked up now, as you have been for the past - three evenings. Upon my word, you seem indifferent as to whether or not - you ever leave the colony alive. You are simply trifling with yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “You are right, I suppose,” said Markham wearily. “But - what is a fellow to do in Cape Town? One can't remain inactive - beyond a certain time.” - </p> - <p> - “It is only within the past three days you have taken up this roving - notion,” said Harwood. “It is in fact only since that - Government House affair.” Markham turned and looked at him eagerly - for a moment. “Yes, since your weakness became apparent to yourself, - you have seemed bound to prove your strength to the furthest. But you are - pushing it too far, my boy. You'll find out your mistake.” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps so,” laughed the other. “Perhaps so. By the - way, is it true that you are going up country, Harwood?” - </p> - <p> - “Quite true. The fact is that affairs are becoming critical with - regard to our relations with the Zulus, and unless I am greatly mistaken, - this colony will be the centre of interest before many months have passed.” - </p> - <p> - “There is nothing I should like better than to go up with you, - Harwood.” - </p> - <p> - Harwood shook his head. “You are not strong enough, my boy,” - he said. - </p> - <p> - There was a pause before Markham said slowly: - </p> - <p> - “No, I am not strong enough.” - </p> - <p> - Then they rode into Cape Town together, and dismounted at their hotel; - and, certainly, as he walked up the stairs to his room, Oswin Markham - looked anything but strong enough to undertake a journey into the Veldt. - Doctor Campion would probably have spoken unkindly to him had he seen him - now, haggard and weary, with his day spent on an exposed road beneath a - hot sun. - </p> - <p> - “He is anything but strong enough,” said Harwood to himself as - he watched the other man; and then he recollected the tone in which - Markham had repeated those words, “I am not strong enough.” - Was it possible, he asked himself, that Markham meant that his strength of - purpose was not sufficiently great? He thought over this question for some - time, and the result of his reflection was to make him wish that he had - not thought the conduct of that defiant chief of such importance as - demanded the personal observation of the representative of the <i>Dominant - Trumpeter</i>. He felt that he would like to search out the origin of the - weakness of Mr. Oswin Markham. - </p> - <p> - But all the time these people were thinking their thoughts and making - their resolutions upon various subjects, Mr. Algernon Glaston was - remaining in the settled calm of artistic rectitude. He was awaiting with - patience the arrival of his father from the Salamander Archipelago, though - he had given the prelate of that interesting group to understand that - circumstances would render it impossible for his son to remain longer than - a certain period at the Cape, so that if he desired the communion of his - society it would be necessary to allow the mission work among the - Salamanders to take care of itself. For Mr. Glaston was by no means - unaware of the sacrifice he was in the habit of making annually for the - sake of passing a few weeks with his father in a country far removed from - all artistic centres. The Bishop of the Calapash Islands and Metropolitan - of the Salamander Archipelago had it several times urged upon him that his - son was a marvel of filial duty for undertaking this annual journey, so - that he, no doubt, felt convinced of the fact; and though this visit added - materially to the expenses of his son's mode of life, which, of - course, were defrayed by the bishop, yet the bishop felt that this - addition was, after all, trifling compared with the value of the sentiment - of filial affection embodied in the annual visit to the Cape. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Glaston had allowed his father a margin of three weeks for any - impediments that might arise to prevent his leaving the Salamanders, but a - longer space he could not, he assured his father, remain awaiting his - arrival from the sunny islands of his see. Meantime he was dining out - night after night with his friends at the Cape, and taking daily drives - and horse-exercise for the benefit of his health. Upon the evening when - Harwood and Markham entered the hotel together, Mr. Glaston was just - departing to join a dinner-party which was to assemble at the house of a - certain judge, and as Harwood was also to be a guest, he was compelled to - dress hastily. - </p> - <p> - Oswin Markham was not, however, aware of the existence of the hospitable - judge, so he remained in the hotel. He was tired almost to a point of - prostration after his long aimless ride, but a bath and a dinner revived - him, and after drinking his coffee he threw himself upon a sofa and slept - for some hours. When he awoke it was dark, and then lighting a cigar he - went out to the balcony that ran along the upper windows, and seated - himself in the cool air that came landwards from the sea. - </p> - <p> - He watched the soldiers in white uniform crossing the square; he saw the - Malay population who had been making a holiday, returning to their quarter - of the town, the men with their broad conical straw hats, the women with - marvellously coloured shawls; he saw the coolies carrying their burdens, - and the Hottentots and the Kafirs and all the races blended in the motley - population of Cape Town. He glanced listlessly at all, thinking his own - thoughts undisturbed by any incongruity of tongues or of races beneath - him, and he was only awakened from the reverie into which he had fallen by - the opening of one of the windows near him and the appearance on the - balcony of Algernon Glaston in his dinner dress and smoking a choice - cigar. - </p> - <p> - The generous wine of the generous judge had made Mr. Glaston particularly - courteous, for he drew his chair almost by the side of Markham's and - inquired after his health. - </p> - <p> - “Harwood was at that place to-night,” he said, “and he - mentioned that you were killing yourself. Just like these newspaper - fellows to exaggerate fearfully for the sake of making a sensation. You - are all right now, I think.” - </p> - <p> - “Quite right,” said Markham. “I don't feel exactly - like an elephant for vigour, but you know what it is to feel strong - without having any particular strength. I am that way.” - </p> - <p> - “Dreadfully brutal people I met to-night,” continued Mr. - Glaston reflectively. “Sort of people Harwood could get on with. - Talking actually about some wretched savage—some Zulu chief or other - from whom they expect great things; as if the action of a ruffianly - barbarian could affect any one. It was quite disgusting talk. I certainly - would have come away at once only I was lucky enough to get by the side of - a girl who seems to know something of Art—a Miss Vincent—she - is quite fresh and enthusiastic on the subject—quite a child indeed.” - </p> - <p> - Markham thought it prudent to light a fresh cigar from the end of the one - he had smoked, at the interval left by Mr. Glaston for his comment, so - that a vague “indeed” was all that came through his closed - lips. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, she seems rather a tractable sort of little thing. By the way, - she mentioned something about your having become faint at Government House - the other day, before you had seen all my pictures.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, yes,” said Markham. “The change from the open air - to that room.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, of course. Miss Vincent seems to understand something of the - meaning of the pictures. She was particularly interested in one of them, - which, curiously enough, is the most wonderful of the collection. Did you - study them all?” - </p> - <p> - “No, not all; the fact was, that unfortunate weakness of mine - interfered with my scrutiny,” said Markham. “But the single - glance I had at one of the pictures convinced me that it was a most - unusual work. I felt greatly interested in it.” - </p> - <p> - “That was the Aholibah, no doubt.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I heard your description of how if came to be painted.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, but that referred only to the marvellous expression of the face—so - saturate—so devoured—with passion. You saw how Miss Gerald - turned away from it with a shudder?” - </p> - <p> - “Why did she do that?” said Markham. - </p> - <p> - “Heaven knows,” said Glaston, with a little sneer. - </p> - <p> - “Heaven knows,” said Markham, after a pause and without any - sneer. - </p> - <p> - “She could not understand it,” continued Glaston. “All - that that face means cannot be apprehended in a glance. It has a - significance of its own—it is a symbol of a passion that withers - like a fire—a passion that can destroy utterly all the beauty of a - life that might have been intense with beauty. You are not going away, are - you?” - </p> - <p> - Markham had risen from his seat and turned away his head, grasping the - rail of the balcony. It was some moments before he started and looked - round at the other man. “I beg your pardon,” he said; “I'm - not going away, I am greatly interested. Yes, I caught a glimpse of the - expression of the face.” - </p> - <p> - “It is a miracle of power,” continued Glaston. “Miss - Gerald felt, but she could not understand why she should feel, its power.” - </p> - <p> - There was a long pause, during which Markham stared blankly across the - square, and the other leant back in his chair and watched the curling of - his cigar clouds through the still air. From the garrison at the castle - there came to them the sound of a bugle-call. - </p> - <p> - “I am greatly interested in that picture,” said Markham at - length. “I should like to know all the details of its working out.” - </p> - <p> - “The expression of the face——” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, I know all of that. I mean the scene—that hill seen - through the arch—the pavement of the oriental apartment—the—the - figure—how did the painter bring them together?” - </p> - <p> - “That is of little consequence in the study of the elements of the - symbolism,” said Mr. Glaston. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, of course it is; but still I should like to know.” - </p> - <p> - “I really never thought of putting any question to the painter about - these matters,” replied Glaston. “He had travelled in the - East, and the kiosk was amongst his sketches; as for the model of the - figure, if I do not mistake, I saw the study for the face in an old - portfolio of his he brought from Sicily.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, indeed.” - </p> - <p> - “But these are mere accidents in the production of the picture. The - symbolism is the picture.” - </p> - <p> - Again there was a pause, and the chatter of a couple of Malays in the - street became louder, and then fainter, as the speakers drew near and - passed away. - </p> - <p> - “Glaston,” said Markham at length, “did you remove the - pictures from Government House?” - </p> - <p> - “They are in one of my rooms,” said Glaston. “Would you - think it a piece of idle curiosity if I were to step upstairs and take a - look at that particular work?” - </p> - <p> - “You could not see it by lamplight. You can study them all in the - morning.” - </p> - <p> - “But I feel in the mood just now, and you know how much depends upon - the mood.” - </p> - <p> - “My room is open,” said Glaston. “But the idea that has - possessed you is absurd.” - </p> - <p> - “I dare say, I dare say, but I have become interested in all that - you have told me; I must try and—and understand the symbolism.” - </p> - <p> - He left the balcony before Mr. Glaston had made up his mind as to whether - there was a touch of sarcasm in his voice uttering the final sentence. - </p> - <p> - “Not worse than the rest of the uneducated world,” murmured - the Art prophet condescendingly. - </p> - <p> - But in Mr. Glaston's private room upstairs Oswin Markham was - standing holding a lighted lamp up to that interesting picture and before - that wonderful symbolic expression upon the face of the figure; the rest - of the room was in darkness. He looked up to the face that the lamplight - gloated over. The remainder of the picture was full of reflections of the - light. - </p> - <p> - “A power that can destroy utterly all the beauty of a life,” - he said, repeating the analysis of Mr. Glaston. He continued looking at it - before he repeated another of that gentleman's sentences—“She - felt, but could not understand, its power.” He laid the lamp on the - table and walked over to the darkened window and gazed out. But once more - he returned to the picture. “A passion that can destroy utterly all - the beauty of life,” he said again. “Utterly! that is a lie!” - He remained with his eyes upon the picture for some moments, then he - lifted the lamp and went to the door. At the door he stopped, glanced at - the picture and laughed. - </p> - <p> - In the Volsunga Saga there is an account of how a jealous woman listens - outside the chamber where a man whom she once loved is being murdered in - his wife's arms; hearing the cry of the wife in the chamber the - woman at the door laughs. A man beside her says, “Thou dost not - laugh because thy heart is made glad, or why moves that pallor upon thy - face?” - </p> - <p> - Oswin Markham left the room and thanked Mr. Glaston for having gratified - his whim. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVI. - </h2> - <p class="indent10"> - ... What he spake, though it lacked form a little, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Was not like madness. There's something in his soul - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - O'er which his melancholy sits on brood. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Purpose is but the slave to memory. - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Most necessary 'tis that we forget.—<i>Hamlet.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE long level rays - of the sun that was setting in crimson splendour were touching the bright - leaves of the silver-fir grove on one side of the ravine traversing the - slope of the great peaked hill which makes the highest point of Table - Mountain, but the other side was shadowy. The flat face of the precipice - beneath the long ridge of the mountain was full of fantastic gleams of red - in its many crevices, and far away a thin waterfall seemed a shimmering - band of satin floating downwards through a dark bed of rocks. Table Bay - was lying silent and with hardly' a sparkle upon its ripples from - where the outline of Robbin Island was seen at one arm of its crescent to - the white sand of the opposite shore. The vineyards of the lower slope, - beneath which the red road crawled, were dim and colourless, for the - sunset bands had passed away from them and flared only upon the higher - slopes. - </p> - <p> - Upon the summit of the ridge of the silver-fir ravine Daireen Gerald sat - looking out to where the sun was losing itself among the ridges of the - distant kloof, and at her feet was Oswin Markham. Behind them rose the - rocks of the Peak with their dark green herbage. Beneath them the soft - rustle of a songless bird was heard through the foliage. - </p> - <p> - But it remains to be told how those two persons came to be watching - together the phenomenon of sunset from the slope. - </p> - <p> - It was Mrs. Crawford who had upon the very day after the departure of - Arthur Harwood organised one of those little luncheon parties which are so - easily organised and give promise of pleasures so abundant. She had - expressed to Mr. Harwood the grief she felt at his being compelled by duty - to depart from the midst of their circle, just as she had said to Mr. - Markham how bowed down she had been at the reflection of his leaving the - steamer at St. Helena; and Harwood had thanked her for her kind - expressions, and made a mental resolve that he would say something - sarcastic regarding the Army Boot Commission in his next communication to - the <i>Dominant Trumpeter</i>. But the hearing of the gun of the mail - steamer that was to convey the special correspondent to Natal was the - pleasantest sensation Mrs. Crawford had experienced for long. She had been - very anxious on Harwood's account for some time. She did not by any - means think highly of the arrangement which had been made by Colonel - Gerald to secure for one of his horses an amount of exercise by allowing - Mr. Harwood to ride it; for she was well aware that Mr. Harwood would - think it quite within the line of his duty to exercise the animal at times - when Miss Gerald would be riding out. She knew that most girls liked Mr. - Harwood, and whatever might be Mr. Harwood's feelings towards the - race that so complimented him, she could not doubt that he admired to a - perilous point the daughter of Colonel Gerald. If, then, the girl would - return his feeling, what would become of Mrs. Crawford's hopes for - Mr. Glaston? - </p> - <p> - It was the constant reflection upon this question that caused the sound of - the mail gun to fall gratefully upon the ears of the major's wife. - Harwood was to be away for more than a month at any rate, and in a month - much might be accomplished, not merely by a special correspondent, but by - a lady with a resolute mind and a strategical training. So she had set her - mind to work, and without delay had organised what gave promise of being a - delightful little lunch, issuing half a dozen invitations only three days - in advance. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Algernon Glaston had, after some persuasion, promised to join the - party. Colonel Gerald and his daughter expressed the happiness they would - have at being present, and Mr. Standish Macnamara felt certain that - nothing could interfere with his delight. Then there were the two - daughters of a member of the Legislative Council who were reported to look - with fond eyes upon the son of one of the justices of the Supreme Court, a - young gentleman who was also invited. Lastly, by what Mrs. Crawford - considered a stroke of real constructive ability, Mr. Oswin Markham and - Miss Lottie Vincent were also begged to allow themselves to be added to - the number of the party. Mrs. Crawford disliked Lottie, but that was no - reason why Lottie should not exercise the tactics Mrs. Crawford knew she - possessed, to take care of Mr. Oswin Markham for the day. - </p> - <p> - They would have much to talk about regarding the projected dramatic - entertainment of the young lady, so that Mr. Glaston should be left - solitary in that delightful listless after-space of lunch, unless indeed—and - the contingency was, it must be confessed, suggested to the lady—Miss - Gerald might chance to remain behind the rest of the party; in that case - it would not seem beyond the bounds of possibility that the weight of Mr. - Glaston's loneliness would be endurable. - </p> - <p> - Everything had been carried out with that perfect skill which can be - gained only by experience. The party had driven from Mowbray for a - considerable way up the hill. The hampers had been unpacked and the lunch - partaken of in a shady nook which was supposed to be free from the - venomous reptiles that make picnics somewhat risky enjoyments in sunny - lands; and then the young people had trooped away to gather Venus-hair - ferns at the waterfall, or silver leaves from the grove, or bronze-green - lizards, or some others of the offspring of nature which have come into - existence solely to meet the requirements of collectors. Mr. Glaston and - Daireen followed more leisurely, and Mrs. Crawford's heart was - happy. The sun would be setting in an hour, she reflected, and she had - great confidence in the effect of fine sunsets upon the hearts of lovers—. - nay, upon the raw material that might after a time develop into the hearts - of lovers. She was quite satisfied seeing the young people depart, for she - was not aware how much more pleasant than Oswin Markham Lottie Vincent had - found Mr. Glaston at that judge's dinner-party a few evenings - previous, nor how much more plastic than Miss Gerald Mr. Glaston had found - Lottie Vincent upon the same occasion. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford did not think it possible that Lottie could be so clever, - even if she had had the inclination, as to effect the separation of the - party as it had been arranged. But Lottie had by a little manouvre waited - at the head of the ravine until Mr. Glaston and Daireen had come up, and - then she had got into conversation with Mr. Glaston upon a subject that - was a blank to the others, so that they had walked quietly on together - until that pleasant space at the head of the ravine was reached. There - Daireen had seated herself to watch the west become crimson with sunset, - and at her feet Oswin had cast himself to watch her face. - </p> - <p> - Had Mrs. Crawford been aware of this, she would scarcely perhaps have been - so pleasant to her friend Colonel Gerald, or to her husband far down on - the slope. - </p> - <p> - It was very silent at the head of that ravine. The delicate splash of the - water that trickled through the rocks far away was distinctly heard. The - rosy bands that had been about the edges of the silver leaves had passed - off. Daireen's face was at last left in shadow, and she turned to - watch the rays move upwards, until soon only the dark Peak was enwound in - the red light that made its forehead like the brows of an ancient - Bacchanal encircled with a rose-wreath. Then quickly the red dwindled - away, until only a single rose-leaf was upon the highest point; an instant - more and it had passed, leaving the hill dark and grim in outline against - the pale blue. - </p> - <p> - Then succeeded that time of silent conflict between light and darkness—a - time of silence and of wonder. - </p> - <p> - Upon the slope of the Peak it was silent enough. The girl's eyes - went out across the shadowy plain below to where the water was shining in - its own gray light, but she uttered not a word. The man leant his head - upon his hand as he looked up to her face. - </p> - <p> - “What is the 'Ave' you are breathing to the sunset, Miss - Gerald?” he said at length, and she gave a little start and looked - at him. “What is the vesper hymn your heart has been singing all - this time?” - </p> - <p> - She laughed. “No hymn, no song.” - </p> - <p> - “I saw it upon your face,” he said. “I saw its melody in - your eyes; and yet—yet I cannot understand it—I am too gross - to be able to translate it. I suppose if a man had sensitive hearing the - wind upon the blades of grass would make good music to him, but most - people are dull to everything but the rolling of barrels and such-like - music.” - </p> - <p> - “I had not even a musical thought,” said the girl. “I am - afraid that if all I thought were translated into words, the result would - be a jumble: you know what that means.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. Heaven is a jumble, isn't it? A bit of wonderful blue - here, and a shapeless cloud there—a few faint breaths of music - floating about a place of green, and an odour of a field of flowers. Yes, - all dreams are jumbles.” - </p> - <p> - “And I was dreaming?” she said. “Yes, I dare say my - confusion of thought without a single idea may be called by courtesy a - dream.” - </p> - <p> - “And now have you awakened?” - </p> - <p> - “Dreams must break and dissolve some time, I suppose, Mr. Markham.” - </p> - <p> - “They must, they must,” he said. “I wonder when will my - awaking come.” - </p> - <p> - “Have you a dream?” she asked, with a laugh. - </p> - <p> - “I am living one,” he answered. - </p> - <p> - “Living one?” - </p> - <p> - “Living one. My life has become a dream to me. How am I beside you? - How is it possible that I could be beside you? Either of two things must - be a dream—either my past life is a dream, or I am living one in - this life.” - </p> - <p> - “Is there so vast a difference between them?” she asked, - looking at him. His eyes were turned away from her. - </p> - <p> - “Vast? Vast?” he repeated musingly. Then he rose to his feet - and looked out oceanwards. “I don't know what is vast,” - he said. Then he looked down to her. “Miss Gerald, I don't - believe that my recollection of my past is in the least correct. My memory - is a falsehood utterly. For it is quite impossible that this body of mine—this - soul of mine—could have passed through such a change as I must have - passed through if my memory has got anything of truth in it. My God! my - God! The recollections that come to me are, I know, impossible.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't understand you, Mr. Markham,” said Daireen. - </p> - <p> - Once more he threw himself on the short tawny herbage beside her. - </p> - <p> - “Have you not heard of men being dragged back when they have taken a - step beyond the barrier that hangs between life and death—men who - have had one foot within the territory of death?” - </p> - <p> - “I have heard of that.” - </p> - <p> - “And you know it is not the same old life that a man leads when he - is brought from that dominion of death. He begins life anew. He knows - nothing of the past. He laughs at the faces that were once familiar to - him; they mean nothing to him. His past is dead. Think of me, child. Day - by day I suffered all the agonies of death and hell, and shall I not have - granted to me that most righteous gift of God? Shall not my past be - utterly blotted out? Yes, these vague memories that I have are the - memories of a dream. God has not been so just to me as to others, for - there are some realities of the past still with me I know, and thus I am - at times led to think it might be possible that all my recollections are - true—but no, it is impossible—utterly impossible.” Again - he leapt to his feet and clasped his hands over his head. “Child—child, - if you knew all, you would pity me,” he said, in a tone no louder - than a whisper. - </p> - <p> - She had never heard anything so pitiful before. Seeing the agony of the - man, and hearing him trying to convince himself of that at which his - reason rebelled, was terribly pitiful to her. She never before that moment - knew how she felt towards this man to whom she had given life. - </p> - <p> - “What can I say of comfort to you?” she said. “You have - all the sympathy of my heart. Why will you not ask me to help you? What is - my pity?” - </p> - <p> - He knelt beside her. “Be near me,” he said. “Let me look - at you now. Is there not a bond between us?—such a bond as binds man - to his God? You gave me my life as a gift, and it will be a true life now. - God had no pity for me, but you have more than given me your pity. The - life you have given me is better than the life given me by God.” - </p> - <p> - “Do not say that,” she said. “Do not think that I have - given you anything. It is your God who has changed you through those days - of terrible suffering.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, the suffering is God's gift,” he cried bitterly. - “Torture of days and nights, and then not utter forgetfulness. After - passing through the barrier of death, I am denied the blessings that - should come with death.” - </p> - <p> - “Why should you wish to forget anything of the past?” she - asked. “Has everything been so very terrible to you?” - </p> - <p> - “Terrible?” he said, clasping his hands over one of his knees - and gazing out to the conflict of purple and shell-pink in the west. - “No, nothing was terrible. I am no Corsair with a hundred romantic - crimes to give me so much remorseful agony as would enable me to act the - part of Count Lara with consistency. I am no Lucifer encircled with a halo - of splendid wickedness. It is only the change that has passed over me - since I felt myself looking at you that gives me this agony of thought. - Wasted time is my only sin—hours cast aside—years trampled - upon. I lived for myself as I had a chance—as thousands of others - do, and it did not seem to me anything terrible that I should make my - father's days miserable to him. I did not feel myself to be the - curse to him that I now know myself to have been. I was a curse to him. He - had only myself in the world—no other son, and yet I could leave him - to die alone—yes, and to die offering me his forgiveness—offering - it when it was not in my power to refuse to accept it. This is the memory - that God will not take away. Nay, I tell you it seems that instead of - being blotted out by my days of suffering it is but intensified.” - </p> - <p> - He had bowed down his face upon his hands as he sat there. Her eyes were - full of tears of sympathy and compassion—she felt with him, and his - sufferings were hers. - </p> - <p> - “I pity you—with all my soul I pity you,” she said, - laying her hand upon his shoulder. - </p> - <p> - He turned and took her hand, holding it not with a fervent grasp; but in - his face that looked up to her tearful eyes there was a passion of love - and adoration. - </p> - <p> - “As a man looks to his God I look to you,” he said. “Be - near me that the life you have given me may be good. Let me think of you, - and the dead Past shall bury its dead.” - </p> - <p> - What answer could she make to him? The tears continued to come to her eyes - as she sat while he looked into her face. - </p> - <p> - “You know,” she said—“you know I feel for you. You - know that I understand you.” - </p> - <p> - “Not all,” he said slowly. “I am only beginning to - understand myself; I have never done so in all my life hitherto.” - </p> - <p> - Then they watched the delicate shadowy dimness—not gray, but full of - the softest azure—begin to swathe the world beneath them. The waters - of the bay were reflecting the darkening sky, and out over the ocean - horizon a single star was beginning to breathe through the blue. - </p> - <p> - “Daireen,” he said at length, “is the bond between us - one of love?” - </p> - <p> - There was no passion in his voice, nor was his hand that held hers - trembling as he spoke. She gave no start at his words, nor did she - withdraw her hand. Through the silence the splash of the waterfall above - them was heard clearly. She looked at him through the long pause. - </p> - <p> - “I do not know,” she said. “I cannot answer you yet——No, - not yet—not yet.” - </p> - <p> - “I will not ask,” he said quietly. “Not yet—not - yet.” And he dropped her hand. - </p> - <p> - Then he rose and looked out to that star, which was no longer smothered in - the splendid blue of the heavens, but was glowing in passion until the - waters beneath caught some of its rays. - </p> - <p> - There was a long pause before a voice sounded behind them on the slope—the - musical voice of Miss Lottie Vincent. - </p> - <p> - “Did you ever see such a sentimental couple?” she cried, - raising her hands with a very pretty expression of mock astonishment. - “Watching the twilight as if you were sitting for your portraits, - while here we have been searching for you over hill and dale. Have we not, - Mr. Glaston?” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Glaston thought it unnecessary to corroborate a statement made with - such evident ingenuousness. - </p> - <p> - “Well, your search met with its reward, I hope, Miss Vincent,” - said Oswin. - </p> - <p> - “What, in finding you?” - </p> - <p> - “I am not so vain as to fancy it possible that you should accept - that as a reward, Miss Vincent,” he replied. - </p> - <p> - The young lady gave him a glance that was meant to read his inmost soul. - Then she laughed. - </p> - <p> - “We must really hasten back to good Mamma Crawford,” she said, - with a seriousness that seemed more frivolous than her frivolity. “Every - one will be wondering where we have been.” - </p> - <p> - “Lucky that you will be able to tell them,” remarked Oswin. - </p> - <p> - “How?” she said quickly, almost apprehensively. - </p> - <p> - “Why, you know you can say 'Over hill, over dale,' and - so satisfy even the most sceptical in a moment.” - </p> - <p> - Miss Lottie made a little pause, then laughed again; she did not think it - necessary to make any reply. - </p> - <p> - And so they all went down by the little track along the edge of the - ravine, and the great Peak became darker above them as the twilight - dwindled into evening. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVII. - </h2> - <p class="indent20"> - I have remembrances of yours— - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - ... words of so sweet breath composed - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - As made the things more rich. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Hamlet.... You do remember all the circumstance? - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Horatio. Remember it, my lord? - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Hamlet. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - That would not let me sleep. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - ... poor Ophelia, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Divided from herself and her fair judgment. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Sleep rock thy brain, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - And never come mischance.—<i>Hamlet.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>RS. Crawford was - not in the least apprehensive of the safety of the young people who had - been placed under her care upon this day. She had been accustomed in the - good old days at Arradambad, when the scorching inhabitants had lifted - their eyes unto the hills, and had fled to their cooling slopes, to - organise little open-air tiffins for the benefit of such young persons as - had come out to visit the British Empire in the East under the guidance of - the major's wife, and the result of her experience went to prove - that it was quite unnecessary to be in the least degree nervous regarding - the ultimate welfare of the young persons who were making collections of - the various products of Nature. It was much better for the young persons - to learn self-dependence, she thought, and though many of the maidens - under her care had previously, through long seasons at Continental - watering-places, become acquainted with a few of the general points to be - observed in maintaining a course of self-dependence, yet the additional - help that came to them from the hills was invaluable. - </p> - <p> - As Mrs. Crawford now gave a casual glance round the descending party, she - felt that her skill as a tactician was not on the wane. They were walking - together, and though Lottie was of course chatting away as flippantly as - ever, yet both Markham and Mr. Glaston was very silent, she saw, and her - conclusions were as rapid as those of an accustomed campaigner should be. - Mr. Glaston had been talking to Daireen in the twilight, so that Lottie's - floss-chat was a trouble to him; while Oswin Markham was wearied with - having listened for nearly an hour to her inanities, and was seeking for - the respite of silence. - </p> - <p> - “You naughty children, to stray away in that fashion!” she - cried. “Do you fancy you had permission to lose yourselves like - that?” - </p> - <p> - “Did we lose ourselves, Miss Vincent?” said Markham. - </p> - <p> - “We certainly did not,” said Lottie, and then Mrs. Crawford's - first suggestions were confirmed: Lottie and Markham spoke of themselves, - while Daireen and Mr. Glaston were mute. - </p> - <p> - “It was very naughty of you,” continued the matron. “Why, - in India, if you once dared do such a thing——” - </p> - <p> - “We should do it for ever,” cried Lottie. “Now, you - know, my dear good Mrs. Crawford, I have been in India, and I have had - experience of your picnics when we were at the hills—oh, the most - delightful little affairs—every one used to look forward to them.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford laughed gently as she patted Lottie on the cheek. “Ah, - they were now and again successes, were they not? How I wish Daireen had - been with us.” - </p> - <p> - “Egad, she would not be with us now, my dear,” said the major. - “Eh, George, what do you say, my boy?” - </p> - <p> - “For shame, major,” cried Mrs. Crawford, glancing towards - Lottie. - </p> - <p> - “Eh, what?” said the bewildered Boot Commissioner, who meant - to be very gallant indeed. It was some moments before he perceived how - Miss Vincent could construe his words, and then he attempted an - explanation, which made matters worse. “My dear, I assure you I - never meant that your attractions were not—not—ah—most - attractive, they were, I assure you—you were then most attractive.” - </p> - <p> - “And so far from having waned,” said Colonel Gerald, “it - would seem that every year has but——” - </p> - <p> - “Why, what on earth is the meaning of this raid of compliments on - poor little me?” cried the young lady in the most artless manner, - glancing from the major to the colonel with uplifted hands. - </p> - <p> - “Let us hasten to the carriages, and leave these old men to talk - their nonsense to each other,” said Mrs. Crawford, putting her arm - about one of the daughters of the member of the Legislative Council—a - young lady who had found the companionship of Standish Macnamara quite as - pleasant as her sister had the guidance of the judge's son up the - ravine—and so they descended to where the carriages were waiting to - take them towards Cape Town. Daireen and her father were to walk to the - Dutch cottage, which was but a short distance away, and with them, of - course, Standish. - </p> - <p> - “Good-bye, my dear child,” said Mrs. Crawford, embracing - Daireen, while the others talked in a group. “You are looking pale, - dear, but never mind; I will drive out and have a long chat with you in a - couple of days,” she whispered, in a way she meant to be - particularly impressive. - </p> - <p> - Then the carriage went off, and Daireen put her hand through her father's - arm, and walked silently in the silent evening to the house among the - aloes and Australian oaks, through whose leaves the fireflies were - flitting in myriads. - </p> - <p> - “She is a good woman,” said Colonel Gerald. “An - exceedingly good woman, only her long experience of the sort of girls who - used to be sent out to her at India has made her rather misjudge the race, - I think.” - </p> - <p> - “She is so good,” said Daireen. “Think of all the - trouble she was at to-day for our sake.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, for our sake,” laughed her father. “My dear Dolly, - if you could only know the traditions our old station retains of Mrs. - Crawford, you would think her doubly good. The trouble she has gone to for - the sake of her friends—her importations by every mail—is - simply astonishing. But what did you think of that charming Miss Van der - Veldt you took such care of, Standish, my boy? Did you make much progress - in Cape Dutch?” - </p> - <p> - But Standish could not answer in the same strain of pleasantry. He was - thinking too earnestly upon the visions his fancy had been conjuring up - during the entire evening—visions of Mr. Glaston sitting by the side - of Daireen gazing out to that seductive, though by no means uncommon, - phenomenon of sunset. He had often wished, when at the waterfall gathering - Venus-hair for Miss Van der Veldt, that he could come into possession of - the power of Joshua at the valley of Gibeon to arrest the descent of the - orb. The possibly disastrous consequences to the planetary system seemed - to him but trifling weighed against the advantages that would accrue from - the fact of Mr. Glaston's being deprived of a source of conversation - that was both fruitful and poetical. Standish knew well, without having - read Wordsworth, that the twilight was sovereign of one peaceful hour; he - had in his mind quite a store of unuttered poetical observations upon - sunset, and he felt that Mr. Glaston might possibly be possessed of - similar resources which he could draw upon when occasion demanded such a - display. The thought of Mr. Glaston sitting at the feet of Daireen, and - with her drinking in of the glory of the west, was agonising to Standish, - and so he could not enter into Colonel Gerald's pleasantry regarding - the attractive daughter of the member of the Legislative Council. - </p> - <p> - When Daireen had shut the door of her room that night and stood alone in - the darkness, she found the relief that she had been seeking since she had - come down from the slope of that great Peak—relief that could not be - found even in the presence of her father, who had been everything to her a - few days before. She found relief in being alone with her thoughts in the - silence of the night. She drew aside the curtains of her window, and - looked out up to that Peak which was towering amongst the brilliant stars. - She could know exactly the spot upon the edge of the ravine where she had - been sitting—where they had been sitting. What did it all mean? she - asked herself. She could not at first recollect any of the words she had - heard upon that slope, she could not even think what they should mean, but - she had a childlike consciousness of happiness mixed with fear. What was - the mystery that had been unfolded to her up there? What was the - revelation that had been made to her? She could not tell. It seemed - wonderful to her how she could so often have looked up to that hill - without feeling anything of what she now felt gazing up to its slope. - </p> - <p> - It was all too wonderful for her to understand. She had a consciousness of - nothing but that all was wonderful. She could not remember any of his - words except those he had last uttered. The bond between them—was it - of love? How could she tell? What did she know of love? She could not - answer him when he had spoken to her, nor was she able even now, as she - stood looking out to those brilliant stars that crowned the Peak and - studded the dark edges of the slope which had been lately overspread with - the poppy-petals of sunset. It was long before she went into her bed, but - she had arrived at no conclusion to her thoughts—all that had - happened seemed mysterious; and she knew not whether she felt happy beyond - all the happiness she had ever known, or sad beyond the sadness of any - hour of her life. Her sleep swallowed up all her perplexity. - </p> - <p> - But the instant she awoke in the bright morning she went softly over to - the window and looked out from a corner of her blind to that slope and to - the place where they had sat. No, it was not a dream. There shone the - silver leaves and there sparkled the waterfall. It was the loveliest hill - in the world, she felt—lovelier even than the purple heather-clad - Slieve Docas. This was a terrible thought to suggest itself to her mind, - she felt all the time she was dressing, but still it remained with her and - refused to be shaken off. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVIII. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - ... her election - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Hath sealed thee for herself. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Adieu, adieu, adieu! Remember me. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Yea, from the table of my memory - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - I'll wipe away all trivial fond records... - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - That youth and observation copied there, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And thy commandment all alone shall live - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Unmixed with baser matter; yes, by heaven!—<i>Hamlet</i>. - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>OLONEL Gerald was - well aware of Mrs. Crawford's strategical skill, and he had watched - its development and exercise during the afternoon of that pleasant little - luncheon party on the hill. He remembered what she had said to him so - gravely at the garden-party at Government House regarding the - responsibility inseparable from the guardianship of Daireen at the Cape, - and he knew that Mrs. Crawford had in her mind, when she organised the - party to the hill, such precepts as she had previously enunciated. He had - watched and admired her cleverness in arranging the collecting - expeditions, and he felt that her detaining of Mr. Glaston as she had - under some pretext until all the others but Daireen had gone up the ravine - was a master stroke. But at this point Colonel Gerald's observation - ended. His imagination had been much less vivid than either Mrs. Crawford's - or Standish's. He did not attribute any subtle influence to the - setting sun, nor did he conjure up any vision of Mr. Glaston sitting at - the feet of Daireen and uttering words that the magic of the sunset - glories alone could inspire. - </p> - <p> - The fact was that he knew much better than either Mrs. Crawford or - Standish how his daughter felt towards Mr. Glaston, and he was not in the - least concerned in the result of her observation of the glowing west by - the side of the Art prophet. When Mrs. Crawford looked narrowly into the - girl's face on her descent Colonel Gerald had only laughed; he did - not feel any distressing weight of responsibility on the subject of the - guardianship of his daughter, for he had not given a single thought to the - accident of his daughter's straying up the ravine with Algernon - Glaston, nor was he impressed by his daughter's behaviour on the day - following. They had driven out together to pay some visits, and she had - been even more affectionate to him than usual, and he justified Mrs. - Crawford's accusation of his ignorance and the ignorance of men - generally, by feeling, from this fact, more assured that Daireen had - passed unscathed through the ordeal of sunset and the drawing on of - twilight on the mount. - </p> - <p> - On the next day to that on which they had paid their visits, however, - Daireen seemed somewhat abstracted in her manner, and when her father - asked her if she would ride with him and Standish to The Flats she, for - the first time, brought forward a plea—the plea of weariness—to - be allowed to remain at home. - </p> - <p> - Her father looked at her, not narrowly nor with the least glance of - suspicion, only tenderly, as he said: - </p> - <p> - “Certainly, stay at home if you wish, Dolly. You must not overtax - yourself, or we shall have to get a nurse for you.” - </p> - <p> - He sat by her side on the chair on the stoep of the Dutch cottage and put - his arm about her. In an instant she had clasped him round the neck and - had hidden her face upon his shoulder in something like hysterical - passion. He laughed and patted her on the back in mock protest at her - treatment. It was some time before she unwound her arms and he got upon - his feet, declaring that he would not submit to such rough handling. But - all the same he saw that her eyes were full of tears; and as he rode with - Standish over the sandy plain made bright with heath, he thought more than - once that there was something strange in her action and still stranger in - her tears. - </p> - <p> - Standish, however, felt equal to explaining everything that seemed - unaccountable. He felt there could be no doubt that Daireen was wearying - of these rides with him: he was nothing more than a brother—a dull, - wearisome, commonplace brother to her, while such fellows as Glaston, who - had made fame for themselves, having been granted the opportunity denied - to others, were naturally attractive to her. Feeling this, Standish once - more resolved to enter upon that enterprise of work which he felt to be - ennobling. He would no longer linger here in silken-folded idleness, he - would work—work—work—steadfastly, nobly, to win her who - was worth all the labour of a man's life. Yes, he would no longer - remain inactive as he had been, he would—well, he lit another cigar - and trotted up to the side of Colonel Gerald. - </p> - <p> - But Daireen, after the departure of her father and Standish, continued - sitting upon the chair under the lovely creeping plants that twined - themselves around the lattice of the projecting roof. It was very cool in - the gracious shade while all the world outside was red with heat. The - broad leaves of the plants in the garden were hanging languidly, and the - great black bees plunged about the mighty roses that were bursting into - bloom with the first breath of the southern summer. From the brink of the - little river at the bottom of the avenue of Australian oaks the chatter of - the Hottentot washerwomen came, and across the intervening space of short - tawny grass a Malay fruitman passed, carrying his baskets slung on each - end of a bamboo pole across his shoulders. - </p> - <p> - She looked out at the scene—so strange to her even after the weeks - she had been at this place; all was strange to her—as the thoughts - that were in her mind. It seemed to her that she had been but one day at - this place, and yet since she had heard the voice of Oswin Markham how - great a space had passed! All the days she had been here were swallowed up - in the interval that had elapsed since she had seen this man—since - she had seen him? Why, there he was before her very eyes, standing by the - side of his horse with the bridle over his arm. There he was watching her - while she had been thinking her thoughts. - </p> - <p> - She stood amongst the blossoms of the trellis, white and lovely as a lily - in a land of red sun. He felt her beauty to be unutterably gracious to - look upon. He threw his bridle over a branch and walked up to her. - </p> - <p> - “I have come to say good-bye,” he said as he took her hand. - </p> - <p> - These were the same words that she had heard from Harwood a few days - before and that had caused her to smile. But now the hand Markham was not - holding was pressed against her heart. Now she knew all. There was no - mystery between them. She knew why her heart became still after beating - tumultuously for a few seconds; and he, though he had not designed the - words with the same object that Harwood had, and though he spoke them - without the same careful observance of their effect, in another instant - had seen what was in the girl's heart. - </p> - <p> - “To say good-bye?” she repeated mechanically. - </p> - <p> - “For a time, yes; for a long time it will seem to me—for a - month.” - </p> - <p> - He saw the faint smile that came to her face, and how her lips parted as a - little sigh of relief passed through them. - </p> - <p> - “For a month?” she said, and now she was speaking in her own - voice, and sitting down. “A month is not a long time to say good-bye - for, Mr. Markham. But I am so sorry that papa is gone out for his ride on - The Flats.” - </p> - <p> - “I am fortunate in finding even you here, then,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Fortunate! Yes,” she said. “But where do you mean to - spend this month?” she continued, feeling that he was now nothing - more than a visitor. - </p> - <p> - “It is very ridiculous—very foolish,” he replied. - “I promised, you know, to act in some entertainment Miss Vincent has - been getting up, and only yesterday her father received orders to proceed - to Natal; but as all the fellows who had promised her to act are in the - company of the Bayonetteers that has also been ordered off, no difference - will be made in her arrangements, only that the performance will take - place at Pietermaritzburg instead of at Cape Town. But she is so - unreasonable as to refuse to release me from my promise, and I am bound to - go with them.” - </p> - <p> - “It is a compliment to value your services so highly, is it not?” - </p> - <p> - “I would be glad to sacrifice all the gratification I find from - thinking so for the sake of being released. She is both absurd and - unreasonable.” - </p> - <p> - “So it would certainly strike any one hearing only of this,” - said Daireen. “But it will only be for a month, and you will see the - place.” - </p> - <p> - “I would rather remain seeing this place,” he said. “Seeing - that hill above us.” She flushed as though he had told her in those - words that he was aware of how often she had been looking up to that slope - since they had been there together—— - </p> - <p> - There was a long pause, through which the voices and laughter of the women - at the river-bank were heard. - </p> - <p> - “Daireen,” said the man, who stood up bareheaded before her. - “Daireen, that hour we sat up there upon that slope has changed all - my thoughts of life. I tell you the life which you restored to me a month - ago I had ceased to regard as a gift. I had come to hope that it would end - speedily. You cannot know how wretched I was.” - </p> - <p> - “And now?” she said, looking up to him. “And now?” - </p> - <p> - “Now,” he answered. “Now—what can I tell you? If I - were to be cut off from life and happiness now, I should stand before God - and say that I have had all the happiness that can be joined to one life - on earth. I have had that one hour with you, and no God or man can take it - from me: I have lived that hour, and none can make me unlive it. I told - you I would say no word of love to you then, but I have come to say the - word now. Child, I dared not love you as I was—I had no thought - worthy to be devoted to loving you. God knows how I struggled with all my - soul to keep myself from doing you the injustice of thinking of you; but - that hour at your feet has given me something of your divine nature, and - with that which I have caught from you, I can love you. Daireen, will you - take the love I offer you? It it yours—all yours.” - </p> - <p> - He was not speaking passionately, but when she looked up and saw his face - haggard with earnestness she was almost frightened—she would have - been frightened if she had not loved him as she now knew she did. “Speak,” - he said, “speak to me—one word.” - </p> - <p> - “One word?” she repeated. “What one word can I say?” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me all that is in your heart, Daireen.” - </p> - <p> - She looked up to him again. “All?” she said with a little - smile. “All? No, I could never tell you all. You know a little of - it. That is the bond between us.” - </p> - <p> - He turned away and actually took a few steps from her. On his face was an - expression that could not easily have been read. But in an instant he - seemed to recover himself. He took her hand in his. - </p> - <p> - “My darling,” he said, “the Past has buried its dead. I - shall make myself worthy to think of you—I swear it to you. You - shall have a true man to love.” He was almost fierce in his - earnestness, and her hand that he held was crushed for an instant. Then he - looked into her face with tenderness. “How have you come to answer - my love with yours?” he said almost wonderingly. “What was - there in me to make you think of my existence for a single instant?” - </p> - <p> - She looked at him. “You were—<i>you</i>,” she said, - offering him the only explanation in her power. It had seemed to her easy - enough to explain as she looked at him. Who else was worth loving with - this love in all the world, she thought. He alone was worthy of all her - heart. - </p> - <p> - “My darling, my darling,” he said, “I am unworthy to - have a single thought of you.” - </p> - <p> - “You are indeed if you continue talking so,” she said with a - laugh, for she felt unutterably happy. - </p> - <p> - “Then I will not talk so. I will make myself worthy to think of you - by—by—thinking of you. For a month, Daireen,—for a month - we can only think of each other. It is better that I should not see you - until the last tatter of my old self is shred away.” - </p> - <p> - “It cannot be better that you should go away,” she said. - “Why should you go away just as we are so happy?” - </p> - <p> - “I must go, Daireen,” he said. “I must go—and now. - I would to God I could stay! but believe me, I cannot, darling; I feel - that I must go.” - </p> - <p> - “Because you made that stupid promise?” she said. - </p> - <p> - “That promise is nothing. What is such a promise to me now? If I had - never made it I should still go.” - </p> - <p> - He was looking down at her as he spoke. “Do not ask me to say - anything more. There is nothing more to be said. Will you forget me in a - month, do you think?” - </p> - <p> - Was it possible that there was a touch of anxiety in the tone of his - question? she thought for an instant. Then she looked into his face and - laughed. - </p> - <p> - “God bless you, Daireen!” he said tenderly, and there was - sadness rather than passion in his voice. - </p> - <p> - “God keep you, Daireen! May nothing but happiness ever come to you!” - </p> - <p> - He held out his hand to her, and she laid her own trustfully in his. - </p> - <p> - “Do not say good-bye,” she pleaded. “Think that it is - only for a month—less than a month, it must be. You can surely be - back in less than a month.” - </p> - <p> - “I can,” he replied; “I can, and I will be back within a - month, and then—— God keep you, Daireen, for ever!” - </p> - <p> - He was holding her hand in his own with all gentleness. His face was bent - down close to hers, but he did not kiss her face, only her hand. He - crushed it to his lips, and then dropped it. She was blinded with her - tears, so that she did not see him hasten away through the avenue of oaks. - She did not even hear his horse's tread, nor could she know that he - had not once turned round to give her a farewell look. - </p> - <p> - It was some minutes before she seemed to realise that she was alone. She - sprang to her feet and stood looking out over those deathly silent broad - leaves, and those immense aloes, that seemed to be the plants in a picture - of a strange region. She heard the laughter of the Hottentot women at the - river, and the unmusical shriek of a bird in the distance. She clasped her - hands over her head, looking wistfully through the foliage of the oaks, - but she did not utter a word. He was gone, she knew now, for she felt a - loneliness that overwhelmed every other feeling. She seemed to be in the - middle of a bare and joyless land. The splendid shrubs that branched - before her eyes seemed dead, and the silence of the warm scented air was a - terror to her. - </p> - <p> - He was gone, she knew, and there was nothing left for her but this - loneliness. She went into her room in the cottage and seated herself upon - her little sofa, hiding her face in her hands, and she felt it good to - pray for him—for this man whom she had come to love, she knew not - how. But she knew she loved him so that he was a part of her own life, and - she felt that it would always be so. She could scarcely think what her - life had been before she had seen him. How could she ever have fancied - that she loved her father before this man had taught her what it was to - love? Now she felt how dear beyond all thought her father was to her. It - was not merely love for himself that she had learnt from Oswin Markham, it - was the power of loving truly and perfectly that he had taught her. - </p> - <p> - Thus she dreamed until she heard the pleasant voice of her friend Mrs. - Crawford in the hall. Then she rose and wondered if every one would not - notice the change that had passed over her. Was it not written upon her - face? Would not every touch of her hand—every word of her voice, - betray it? - </p> - <p> - Then she lifted up her head and felt equal to facing even Mrs. Crawford, - and to acknowledging all that she believed the acute observation of that - lady would read from her face as plainly as from the page of a book. - </p> - <p> - But it seemed that Mrs. Crawford's eyes were heavy this afternoon, - for though she looked into Daireen's face and kissed her cheek - affectionately, she made no accusation. - </p> - <p> - “I am lucky in finding you all alone, my dear,” she said. - “It is so different ashore from aboard ship. I have not really had - one good chat with you since we landed. George is always in the way, or - the major, you know—ah, you think I should rather say the colonel - and Jack, but indeed I think of your father only as Lieutenant George. And - you enjoyed our little lunch on the hill, I hope? I thought you looked - pale when you came down. Was it not a most charming sunset?” - </p> - <p> - “It was indeed,” said Daireen, straining her eyes to catch a - glimpse through the window of the slope where the red light had rested. - </p> - <p> - “I knew you would enjoy it, my dear. Mr. Glaston is such good - company—ah, that is, of course, to a sympathetic mind. And I don't - think I am going too far, Daireen, when I say that I am sure he was in - company with a sympathetic mind the evening before last.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford was smiling as one smiles passing a graceful compliment. - </p> - <p> - “I think he was,” said Daireen. “Miss Vincent and he - always seemed pleased with each other's society.” - </p> - <p> - “Miss Vincent?—Lottie Vincent?” cried the lady in a - puzzled but apprehensive way. “What do you mean, Daireen? Lottie - Vincent?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, you know Mr. Glaston and Miss Vincent went away from us, among - the silver leaves, and only returned as we were coming down the hill.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford was speechless for some moments. Then she looked at the - girl, saying, “<i>We</i>,—who were <i>we?</i>” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Markham and myself,” replied Daireen without faltering. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, indeed,” said the other pleasantly. Then there was a - pause before she added, “That ends my association with Lottie - Vincent. The artful, designing little creature! Daireen, you have no idea - what good nature it required on my part to take any notice of that girl, - knowing so much as I do of her; and this is how she treats me! Never mind; - I have done with her.” Seeing the girl's puzzled glance, Mrs. - Crawford began to recollect that it could not be expected that Daireen - should understand the nature of Lottie's offence; so she added, - “I mean, you know, dear, that that girl is full of spiteful, - designing tricks upon every occasion. And yet she had the effrontery to - come to me yesterday to beg of me to take charge of her while her father - would be at Natal. But I was not quite so weak. Never mind; she leaves - tomorrow, thank goodness, and that is the last I mean to see of her. But - about Mr. Markham: I hope you do not think I had anything to say in the - matter of letting you be with him, Daireen. I did not mean it, indeed.” - </p> - <p> - “I am sure of it,” said Daireen quietly—so quietly that - Mrs. Crawford began to wonder could it be possible that the girl wished to - show that she had been aware of the plans which had been designed on her - behalf. Before she had made up her mind, however, the horses of Colonel - Gerald and Standish were heard outside, and in a moment afterwards the - colonel entered the room. - </p> - <p> - “Papa,” said Daireen almost at once, “Mr. Markham rode - out to see you this afternoon.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, indeed? I am sorry I missed him,” he said quietly. But - Mrs. Crawford stared at the girl, wondering what was coming. - </p> - <p> - “He came to say good-bye, papa.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford's heart began to beat again. - </p> - <p> - “What, is he returning to England?” asked the colonel. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no; he is only about to follow Mr. Harwood's example and - go up to Natal.” - </p> - <p> - “Then he need not have said good-bye, anymore than Harwood,” - remarked the colonel; and his daughter felt it hard to restrain herself - from throwing her arms about his neck. - </p> - <p> - “Ah,” said Mrs. Crawford, “Miss Lottie has triumphed! - This Mr. Markham will go up in the steamer with her, and will probably act - with her in this theatrical nonsense she is always getting up.” - </p> - <p> - “He is to act with her certainly,” said Daireen. “Ah! - Lottie has made a success at last,” cried the elder lady. “Mr. - Markham will suit her admirably. They will be engaged before they reach - Algoa Bay.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear Kate, why will you always jump at conclusions?” said - the colonel. “Markham is a fellow of far too much sense to be in the - least degree led by such a girl as Lottie.” - </p> - <p> - Daireen had hold of her father's arm, and when he had spoken she - turned round and kissed him. But it was not at all unusual for her to kiss - him in this fashion on his return from a ride. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIX. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - Haply the seas and countries different - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - With variable objects shall expel - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - This something-settled matter in his heart, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Whereon his brain still beating puts him thus - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - From fashion of himself.—<i>Hamlet</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>E had got a good - deal to think about, this Mr. Oswin Markham, as he stood on the bridge of - the steamer that was taking him round the coast to Natal, and looked back - at that mountain whose strange shape had never seemed stranger than it did - from the distance of the Bay. - </p> - <p> - Table Mountain was of a blue dimness, and the white walls of the houses at - its base were quite hidden; Robbin Island lighthouse had almost dwindled - out of sight; and in the water, through the bright red gold shed from a - mist in the west that the falling sun saturated with light, were seen the - black heads of innumerable seals swimming out from the coastway of rocks. - Yes, Mr. Oswin Markham had certainly a good deal to think about as he - looked back to the flat-ridged mountain, and, mentally, upon all that had - taken place since he had first seen its ridges a few weeks before. - </p> - <p> - He had thought it well to talk of love to that girl who had given him the - gift of the life he was at present breathing—to talk to her of love - and to ask her to love him. Well, he had succeeded; she had put her hand - trustfully in his and had trusted him with all her heart, he knew; and yet - the thought of it did not make him happy. His heart was not the heart of - one who has triumphed. It was only full of pity for the girl who had - listened to him and replied to him. - </p> - <p> - And for himself he felt what was more akin to shame than any other feeling—shame, - that, knowing all he did of himself, he had still spoken those words to - the girl to whom he owed the life that was now his. - </p> - <p> - “God! was it not forced upon me when I struggled against it with all - my soul?” he said, in an endeavour to strangle his bitter feeling. - “Did not I make up my mind to leave the ship when I saw what was - coming upon me, and was I to be blamed if I could not do so? Did not I - rush away from her without a word of farewell? Did not we meet by chance - that night in the moonlight? Were those words that I spoke to her thought - over? Were not they forced from me against my own will, and in spite of my - resolution?” There could be no doubt that if any one acquainted with - all the matters to which he referred had been ready to answer him, a - satisfactory reply would have been received by him to each of his - questions. But though, of course, he was aware of this, yet he seemed to - find it necessary to alter the ground of the argument he was advancing for - his own satisfaction. “I have a right to forget the wretched past,” - he said, standing upright and looking steadfastly across the glowing - waters. “Have not I died for the past? Is not this life a new one? - It is God's justice that I am carrying out by forgetting all. The - past is past, and the future in all truth and devotion is hers.” - </p> - <p> - There were, indeed, some moments of his life—and the present was one - of them—when he felt satisfied in his conscience by assuring - himself, as he did now, that as God had taken away all remembrance of the - past from many men who had suffered the agonies of death, he was therefore - entitled to let his past life and its recollections drift away on that - broken mast from which he had been cut in the middle of the ocean; but the - justice of the matter had not occurred to him when he got that bank order - turned into money at the Cape, nor at the time when he had written to the - agents of his father's property in England, informing them of his - escape. He now stood up and spoke those words of his, and felt their - force, until the sun, whose outline had all the afternoon been undefined - in the mist, sank beneath the horizon, and the gorgeous colours drifted - round from his sinking place and dwindled into the dark green of the - waters. He watched the sunset, and though Lottie Vincent came to his side - in her most playful mood, her fresh and artless young nature found no - response to its impulses in him. She turned away chilled, but no more - discouraged than a little child, who, desirous of being instructed on the - secret of the creative art embodied in the transformation of a - handkerchief into a rabbit, finds its mature friend reflecting upon a - perplexing point in the theory of Unconscious Cerebration. Lottie knew - that her friend Mr. Oswin Markham sometimes had to think about matters of - such a nature as caused her little pleasantries to seem incongruous. She - thought that now she had better turn to a certain Lieutenant Clifford, - who, she knew, had no intricate mental problems to work out; and she did - turn to him, with great advantage to herself, and, no doubt, to the - officer as well. However forgetful Oswin Markham may have been of his past - life, he could still recollect a few generalities that had struck him in - former years regarding young persons of a nature similar to this pretty - little Miss Vincent's. She had insisted on his fulfilling his - promise to act with her, and he would fulfil it with a good grace; but at - this point his contract terminated; he would not be tempted into making - another promise to her which he might find much more embarrassing to carry - out with consistency. - </p> - <p> - It had been a great grief to Lottie to be compelled, through the - ridiculous treatment of her father by the authorities in ordering him to - Natal, to transfer her dramatic entertainment from Cape Town to - Pietermaritzburg. However, as she had sold a considerable number of - tickets to her friends, she felt that “the most deserving charity,” - the augmentation of whose funds was the avowed object of the - entertainment, would be benefited in no inconsiderable degree by the - change of venue. If the people of Pietermaritzburg would steadfastly - decline to supply her with so good an audience as the Cape Town people, - there still would be a margin of profit, since her friends who had bought - tickets on the understanding that the performance would take place where - it was at first intended, did not receive their money back. How could they - expect such a concession, Lottie asked, with innocent indignation; and - begged to be informed if it was her fault that her father was ordered to - Natal. Besides this one unanswerable query, she reminded those who - ventured to make a timid suggestion regarding the returns, that it was in - aid of a most deserving charity the tickets had been sold, so that it - would be an act of injustice to give back a single shilling that had been - paid for the tickets. Pursuing this very excellent system, Miss Lottie had - to the credit of the coming performance a considerable sum which would - provide against the contingencies of a lack of dramatic enthusiasm amongst - the inhabitants of Pietermaritzburg. - </p> - <p> - It was at the garden-party at Government House that Markham had by - accident mentioned to Lottie that he had frequently taken part in dramatic - performances for such-like objects as Lottie's was designed to - succour, and though he at first refused to be a member, of her company, - yet at Mrs. Crawford's advocacy of the claims of the deserving - object, he had agreed to place his services and experience at the disposal - of the originator of the benevolent scheme. - </p> - <p> - At Cape Town he had not certainly thrown himself very heartily into the - business of creating a part in the drama which had been selected. He was - well aware that if a good performance of the nature designed by Lottie is - successful, a bad performance is infinitely more so; and that any attempt - on the side of an amateur to strike out a new character from an old part - is looked upon with suspicion, and is generally attended with disaster; so - he had not given himself any trouble in the matter. - </p> - <p> - “My dear Miss Vincent,” he had said in reply to a pretty - little remonstrance from the young lady, “the department of study - requiring most attention in a dramatic entertainment of this sort is the - financial. Sell all the tickets you can, and you will be a greater - benefactress to the charity than if you acted like a Kemble.” - </p> - <p> - Lottie had taken his advice; but still she made up her mind that Mr. - Markham's name should be closely associated with the entertainment, - and consequently, with her own name. Had she not been at pains to put into - circulation certain stories of the romance surrounding him, and thus - disposed of an unusual number of stalls? For even if one is not possessed - of any dramatic inclinations, one is always ready to pay a price for - looking at a man who has been saved from a shipwreck, or who has been the - co-respondent in some notorious law case. - </p> - <p> - When the fellows of the Bayonetteers, who had been indulging in a number - of surmises regarding Lottie's intentions with respect to Markham, - heard that the young lady's father had been ordered to proceed to - Natal without delay, the information seemed to give them a good deal of - merriment. The man who offered four to one that Lottie should not be able - to get any lady friend to take charge of her in Cape Town until her father's - return, could get no one to accept his odds; but his proposal of three to - one that she would get Markham to accompany her to Natal was eagerly taken - up; so that there were several remarks made at the mess reflecting upon - the acuteness of Mr. Markham's perception when it was learned that - he was going with the young lady and her father. - </p> - <p> - “You see,” remarked the man who had laid the odds, “I - knew something of Lottie in India, and I knew what she was equal to.” - </p> - <p> - “Lottie is a devilish smart child, by Jove,” said one of the - losers meditatively. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, she has probably cut her eye-teeth some years ago,” - hazarded another subaltern. - </p> - <p> - There was a considerable pause before a third of this full bench delivered - final judgment as the result of the consideration of the case. - </p> - <p> - “Poor beggar!” he remarked; “poor beggar! he's a - finished coon.” - </p> - <p> - And that Mr. Oswin Markham was, indeed, a man whose career had been - defined for him by another in the plainest possible manner, no member of - the mess seemed to doubt. - </p> - <p> - During the first couple of days of the voyage round the coast, when Miss - Lottie would go to the side of Mr. Markham for the purpose of consulting - him on some important point of detail in the intended performance, the - shrewd young fellows of the regiment of Bayonetteers pulled their phantom - shreds of moustaches, and brought the muscles of their faces about the - eyes into play to a remarkable extent, with a view of assuring one another - of the possession of an unusual amount of sagacity by the company to which - they belonged. But when, after the third day of rehearsals. Lottie's - manner of gentle persuasiveness towards them altered to nasty bitter - upbraidings of the young man who had committed the trifling error of - overlooking an entire scene here and there in working out the character he - was to bring before the audience, and to a most hurtful glance of scorn at - the other aspirant who had marked off in the margin of his copy of the - play all the dialogue he was to speak, but who, unfortunately, had picked - up a second copy belonging to a young lady in which another part had been - similarly marked, so that he had, naturally enough, perfected himself in - the dialogue of the lady's rôle without knowing a letter of his own—when, - for such trifling slips as these, Lottie was found to be so harsh, the - deep young fellows made their facial muscles suggest a doubt as to whether - it might not be possible that Markham was of a sterner and less malleable - nature then they had at first believed him. - </p> - <p> - The fact was that since Lottie had met with Oswin Markham she had been in - considerable perplexity of mind. She had found out that he was in by no - means indigent circumstances; but even with her guileless, careless - perceptions, she was not long in becoming aware that he was not likely to - be moulded according to her desires; so, while still behaving in a - fascinating manner towards him, she had had many agreeable half-hours with - Mr. Glaston, who was infinitely more plastic, she could see; but so soon - as the order had come for her father to go up to Natal she had returned in - thought to Oswin Markham, and had smiled to see the grins upon the - expressive faces of the officers of the Bayonetteers when she found - herself by the side of Oswin Markham. She rather liked these grins, for - she had an idea—in her own simple way, of course—that there is - a general tendency on the part of young people to associate when their - names have been previously associated. She knew that the fact of her - having persuaded this Mr. Markham to accompany her to Natal would cause - his name to be joined with hers pretty frequently, and in her innocence - she had no objection to make to this. - </p> - <p> - As for Markham himself, he knew perfectly well what remarks people would - make on the subject of his departure in the steamer with Lottie Vincent; - he knew before he had been a day on the voyage that the Bayonetteers - regarded him as somewhat deficient in firmness; but he felt that there was - no occasion for him to be utterly broken down in spirit on account of this - opinion being held by the Bayonetteers. He was not so blind but that he - caught a glimpse now and again of a facial distortion on the part of a - member of the company. He felt that it was probable these far-seeing - fellows would be disappointed at the result of their surmises. - </p> - <p> - And indeed the fellows of the regiment were beginning, before the voyage - was quite over, to feel that this Mr. Oswin Markham was not altogether of - the yielding nature which they had ascribed to him on the grounds of his - having promised Lottie Vincent to accompany her and her father to Natal at - this time. About Lottie herself there was but one opinion expressed, and - that was of such a character as any one disposed to ingratiate himself - with the girl by means of flattery would hardly have hastened to - communicate to her; for the poor little thing had been so much worried of - late over the rehearsals which she was daily conducting aboard the - steamer, that, failing to meet with any expression of sympathy from Oswin - Markham, she had spoken very freely to some of the company in comment upon - their dramatic capacity, and not even an amateur actor likes to receive - unreserved comment of an unfavourable character upon his powers. - </p> - <p> - “She is a confounded little humbug,” said one of the - subalterns to Oswin in confidence on the last day of the voyage. “Hang - me if I would have had anything to say to this deuced mummery if I had - known what sort of a girl she was. By George, you should hear the stories - Kirkham has on his fingers' ends about her in India.” - </p> - <p> - Oswin laughed quietly. “It would be rash, if not cruel, to believe - all the stories that are told about girls in India,” he said. - “As for Miss Vincent, I believe her to be a charming girl—as - an actress.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the lieutenant, who had not left his grinder on - English literature long enough to forget all that he had learned of the - literature of the past century—“yes; she is an actress among - girls, and a girl among actresses.” - </p> - <p> - “Good,” said Oswin; “very good. What is it that somebody - or other remarked about Lord Chesterfield as a wit?” - </p> - <p> - “Never mind,” said the other, ceasing the laugh he had - commenced. “What I say about Lottie is true.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXX. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - This world is not for aye, nor'tis not strange - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - That even our loves should with our fortunes change; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - For'tis a question left us yet to prove, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Diseases desperate grown - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - By desperate appliance are relieved, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Or not at all. - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - ... so you must take your husbands. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - It is our trick. Nature her custom holds - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Let shame say what it will: when these are gone - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The woman will be out.—<i>Hamlet.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>F course,” - said Lottie, as she stood by the side of Oswin Markham when the small - steamer which had been specially engaged to take the field-officers of the - Bayonetteers over the dreaded bar of Durban harbour was approaching the - quay—“of course we shall all go together up to - Pietermaritzburg. I have been there before, you know. We shall have a - coach all to ourselves from Durban.” She looked up to his face with - only the least questioning expression upon her own. But Mr. Markham - thought that he had made quite enough promises previously: it would be - unwise to commit himself even in so small a detail as the manner of the - journey from the port of Durban to the garrison town of Pietermaritzburg, - which he knew was at a distance of upwards of fifty miles. - </p> - <p> - “I have not the least idea what I shall do when we land,” he - said. “It is probable that I shall remain at the port for some days. - I may as well see all that there is on view in this part of the colony.” - </p> - <p> - This was very distressing to the young lady. - </p> - <p> - “Do you mean to desert me?” she asked somewhat reproachfully. - </p> - <p> - “Desert you?” he said in a puzzled way. “Ah, those are - the words in a scene in your part, are they not?” - </p> - <p> - Lottie became irritated almost beyond the endurance of a naturally patient - soul. - </p> - <p> - “Do you mean to leave me to stand alone against all my difficulties, - Mr. Markham?” - </p> - <p> - “I should be sorry to do that, Miss Vincent. If you have - difficulties, tell me what they are; and if they are of such a nature that - they can be curtailed by me, you may depend upon my exerting myself.” - </p> - <p> - “You know very well what idiots these Bayonetteers are,” cried - Lottie. - </p> - <p> - “I know that most of them have promised to act in your theatricals,” - replied Markham quietly; and Lottie tried to read his soul in another of - her glances to discover the exact shade of the meaning of his words, but - she gave up the quest. - </p> - <p> - “Of course you can please yourself, Mr. Markham,” she said, - with a coldness that was meant to appal him. - </p> - <p> - “And I trust that I may never be led to do so at the expense of - another,” he remarked. - </p> - <p> - “Then you will come in our coach?” she cried, brightening up. - </p> - <p> - “Pray do not descend to particulars when we are talking in this - vague way on broad matters of sentiment, Miss Vincent.” - </p> - <p> - “But I must know what you intend to do at once.” - </p> - <p> - “At once? I intend to go ashore, and try if it is possible to get a - dinner worth eating. After that—well, this is Tuesday, and on - Thursday week your entertainment will take place; before that day you say - you want three rehearsals, then I will agree to be by your side at - Pietermaritzburg on Saturday next.” - </p> - <p> - This business-like arrangement was not what Lottie on leaving Cape Town - had meant to be the result of the voyage to Natal. There was a slight - pause before she asked: - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean by treating me in this way? I always thought you - were my friend. What will papa say if you leave me to go up there alone?” - </p> - <p> - This was a very daring bit of dialogue on the part of Miss Lottie, but - they were nearing the quay where she knew Oswin would be free; aboard the - mail steamer of course he was—well, scarcely free. But Mr. Markham - was one of those men who are least discomfited by a daring stroke. He - looked steadfastly at the girl so soon as she uttered her words. - </p> - <p> - “The problem is too interesting to be allowed to pass, Miss Vincent,” - he said. “We shall do our best to have it answered. By Jove, doesn't - that man on the quay look like Harwood? It is Harwood indeed, and I - thought him among the Zulus.” - </p> - <p> - The first man caught sight of on the quay was indeed the special - correspondent of the <i>Dominant Trumpeter</i>. Lottie's manner - changed instantly on seeing him, and she gave one of her girlish laughs on - noticing the puzzled expression upon his face as he replied to her - salutations while yet afar. She was very careful to keep by the side of - Oswin until the steamer was at the quay; and when at last Harwood - recognised the features of the two persons who had been saluting him, she - saw him look with a little smile first to herself, then to Oswin, and she - thought it prudent to give a small guilty glance downwards and to repeat - her girlish laugh. - </p> - <p> - Oswin saw Harwood's glance and heard Lottie's laugh. He also - heard the young lady making an explanation of certain matters, to which - Harwood answered with a second little smile. - </p> - <p> - “Kind? Oh, exceedingly kind of him to come so long a distance for - the sake of assisting you. Nothing could be kinder.” - </p> - <p> - “I feel it to be so indeed,” said Miss Vincent. “I feel - that I can never repay Mr. Markham.” - </p> - <p> - Again that smile came to Mr. Harwood as he said: “Do not take such a - gloomy view of the matter, my dear Miss Vincent; perhaps on reflection - some means may be suggested to you.” - </p> - <p> - “What can you mean?” cried the puzzled little thing, tripping - away. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Harwood, in spite of your advice to me, you see I am here not - more than a week behind yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “And you are looking better than I could have believed possible for - any one in the condition you were in when I left,” said Harwood. - “Upon my word, I did not expect much from you as I watched you go up - the stairs at the hotel after that wild ride of yours to and from no place - in particular. But, of course, there are circumstances under which fellows - look knocked up, and there are others that combine to make them seem quite - the contrary; now it seems to me you are subject to the influence of the - latter just at present.” He glanced as if by accident over to where - Lottie was making a pleasant little fuss about some articles of her - luggage. - </p> - <p> - “You are right,” said Markham—“quite right. I have - reason to be particularly elated just now, having got free from that - steamer and my fellow-passengers.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, the fellows of the Bayonetteers struck me as being - particularly good company,” said Harwood. - </p> - <p> - “And so they were. Now I must look after this precious portmanteau - of mine.” - </p> - <p> - “And assist that helpless little creature to look after hers,” - muttered Harwood when the other had left him. “Poor little Lottie! - is it possible that you have landed a prize at last? Well, no one will say - that you don't deserve something for your years of angling.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Harwood felt very charitably inclined just at this instant, for his - reflections on the behaviour of Markham during the last few days they had - been at the same hotel at Cape Town had not by any means been quieted - since they had parted. He was sorry to be compelled to leave Cape Town - without making any discovery as to the mental condition of Markham. Now, - however, he knew that Markham had been strong enough to come on to Natal, - so that the searching out of the problem of his former weakness would be - as uninteresting as it would be unprofitable. If there should chance to be - any truth in that vague thought which had been suggested to him as to the - possibility of Markham having become attached to Daireen Gerald, what did - it matter now? Here was Markham, having overcome his weakness, whatever it - may have been, by the side of Lottie Vincent; not indeed appearing to be - in great anxiety regarding the welfare of the young lady's luggage - which was being evil-treated, but still by her side, and this made any - further thought on his behalf unnecessary. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Markham had given his portmanteau into the charge of one of the Natal - Zulus, and then he turned to Harwood. - </p> - <p> - “You don't mind my asking you what you are doing at Durban - instead of being at the other side of the Tugela?” he said. - </p> - <p> - “The Zulus of this province require to be treated of most carefully - in the first instance, before the great question of Zulus in their own - territory can be fully understood by the British public,” replied - the correspondent. “I am at present making the Zulu of Durban my - special study. I suppose you will be off at once to Pietermaritzburg?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Markham. “I intend remaining at Durban to - study the—the Zulu characteristics for a few days.” - </p> - <p> - “But Lottie—I beg your pardon—Miss Vincent is going on - at once.” - </p> - <p> - There was a little pause, during which Markham stared blankly at his - friend. - </p> - <p> - “What on earth has that got to say to my remaining here?” he - said. - </p> - <p> - Harwood looked at him and felt that Miss Lottie was right, even on purely - artistic grounds, in choosing Oswin Markham as one of her actors. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing—nothing of course,” he replied to Markham's - question. - </p> - <p> - But Miss Lottie had heard more than a word of this conversation. She - tripped up to Mr. Harwood. - </p> - <p> - “Why don't you make some inquiry about your old friends, you - most ungrateful of men?” she cried. “Oh, I have such a lot to - tell you. Dear old Mrs. Crawford was in great grief about your going away, - you know—oh, such great grief that she was forced to give a picnic - the second day after you left, for fear we should all have broken down - utterly.” - </p> - <p> - “That was very kind of Mrs. Crawford,” said Harwood; “and - it only remains for me to hope fervently that the required effect was - produced.” - </p> - <p> - “So far as I was concerned, it was,” said Lottie. “But - it would never do for me to speak for other people.” - </p> - <p> - “Other people?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, other people—the charming Miss Gerald, for instance; I - cannot speak for her, but Mr. Markham certainly can, for he lay at her - feet during the entire of the afternoon when every one else had wandered - away up the ravine. Yes, Mr. Markham will tell you to a shade what her - feelings were upon that occasion. Now, bye-bye. You will come to our - little entertainment next week, will you not? And you will turn up on - Saturday for rehearsal?” she added, smiling at Oswin, who was - looking more stern than amused. “Don't forget—Saturday. - You should be very grateful for my giving you liberty for so long.” - </p> - <p> - Both men went ashore together without a word; nor did they fall at once - into a fluent chat when they set out for the town, which was more than two - miles distant; for Mr. Harwood was thinking out another of the problems - which seemed to suggest themselves to him daily from the fact of his - having an acute ear for discerning the shades of tone in which his friends - uttered certain phrases. He was just now engaged linking fancy unto fancy, - thinking if it was a little impulse of girlish jealousy, meant only to - give a mosquito-sting to Oswin Markham, that had caused Miss Lottie - Vincent to make that reference to Miss Gerald, or if it was a piece of - real bitterness designed to wound deeply. It was an interesting problem, - and Mr. Harwood worked at its solution very patiently, weighing all his - recollections of past words and phrases that might tend to a satisfactory - result. - </p> - <p> - But the greatest amount of satisfaction was not afforded to Mr. Harwood by - the pursuit of the intricacies of the question he had set himself to work - out, but by the reflection that at any rate Markham's being at Natal - and not within easy riding distance of a picturesque Dutch cottage at - Mowbray, was a certain good. What did it signify now if Markham had - previously been too irresolute to tear himself away from the association - of that cottage? Had he not afterwards proved himself sufficiently strong? - And if this strength had come to him through any conversation he might - have had with Miss Gerald on the hillside to which Lottie had alluded, or - elsewhere, what business was it to anybody? Here was Markham—there - was Durban, and this was satisfactory. Only—what did Lottie mean - exactly by that little bit of spitefulness or bitterness? - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXI. - </h2> - <p class="indent10"> - <i>Polonius</i>. The actors are come hither, my lord. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - <i>Hamlet</i>. Buz, buz. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - <i>Polonius</i>. Upon my honour. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - <i>Hamlet. Then came each actor on his ass.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - <i>Polonious</i>. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, - comedy, history, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, scene individable - or poem unlimited... these are the only men. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Being thus benetted round with villanies,— - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Or I could make a prologue to my brains, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - They had begun the play,—I sat me down. - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - ... Wilt thou know - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The effect...?—<i>Hamlet</i>. - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">U</span>PON the evening of - the Thursday week after the arrival of that steamer with two companies of - the Bayonetteers at Durban, the town of Pietermaritzburg was convulsed - with the prospect of the entertainment that was to take place in its - midst, for Miss Lottie Vincent had not passed the preceding week in a - condition of dramatic abstraction. She was by no means so wrapped up in - the part she had undertaken to represent as to be unable to give the - necessary attention to the securing of an audience. - </p> - <p> - It would seem to a casual <i>entrepreneur</i> visiting Pietermaritzburg - that a large audience might be assured for an entertainment possessing - even the minimum of attractiveness, for the town appears to be of an - immense size—that is, for a South African town. The colonial Romulus - and Remus have shown at all times very lordly notions on the subject of - boundaries, and, being subject to none of those restrictions as to the - cost of every square foot of territory which have such a cramping - influence upon the founders of municipalities at home, they exercise their - grand ideas in the most extensive way. The streets of an early colonial - town are broad roads, and the spaces between the houses are so great as - almost to justify the criticism of those narrow-minded visitors who call - the town straggling. At one time Pietermaritzburg may have been - straggling, but it certainly did not strike Oswin Markham as being so when - he saw it now for the first time on his arrival. He felt that it had got - less of a Dutch look about it than Cape Town, and though that towering and - overshadowing impression which Table Mountain gives to Cape Town was - absent, yet the circle of hills about Pietermaritzburg seemed to him—and - his fancy was not particularly original—to give the town almost that - nestling appearance which by tradition is the natural characteristic of an - English village. - </p> - <p> - But if an <i>entrepreneur</i> should calculate the probable numerical - value of an audience in Pietermaritzburg from a casual walk through the - streets, he would find that his assumption had been founded upon an - erroneous basis. The streets are long and in fact noble, but the - inhabitants available for fulfilling the duties of an audience at a - dramatic entertainment are out of all proportion few. Two difficulties are - to be contended with in making up audiences in South Africa: the first is - getting the people in, and the second is keeping people out. As a rule the - races of different colour do not amalgamate with sufficient ease to allow - of a mixed audience being pervaded with a common sympathy. A white man - seated between a Hottentot and a Kafir will scarcely be brought to admit - that he has had a pleasant evening, even though the performance on the - stage is of a choice character. A single Zulu will make his presence - easily perceptible in a room full of white people, even though he should - remain silent and in a secluded corner; while a Hottentot, a Kafir, and a - Zulu constitute a <i>bouquet d'Afrique</i>, the savour of which is - apt to divert the attention of any one in their neighbourhood from the - realistic effect of a garden scene upon the stage. - </p> - <p> - Miss Lottie, being well aware that the audience-forming material in the - town was small in proportion to the extent of the streets, set herself - with her usual animation about the task of disposing of the remaining - tickets. She fancied that she understood something of the system to be - pursued with success amongst the burghers. She felt it to be her duty to - pay a round of visits to the houses where she had been intimate in the - days of her previous residence at the garrison; and she contrived to - impress upon her friends that the ties of old acquaintance should be - consolidated by the purchase of a number of her tickets. She visited - several families who, she knew, had been endeavouring for a long time to - work themselves into the military section of the town's society, and - after hinting to them that the officers of the Bayonetteers would remain - in the lowest spirits until they had made the acquaintance of the - individual members of each of those families, she invariably disposed of a - ticket to the individual member whose friendship was so longed for at the - garrison. As for the tradesmen of the town, she managed without any - difficulty, or even without forgetting her own standing, to make them - aware of the possible benefits that would accrue to the business of the - town under the patronage of the officers of the Bayonetteers; and so, - instead of having to beg of the tradesmen to support the deserving charity - on account of which she was taking such a large amount of trouble, she - found herself thanked for the permission she generously accorded to these - worthy men to purchase places for the evening. - </p> - <p> - She certainly deserved well of the deserving charity, and the old - field-officers, who rolled their eyes and pulled their moustaches, - recollecting the former labours of Miss Lottie, had got as imperfect a - knowledge of the proportions of her toil and reward as the less - good-natured of their wives who alluded to the trouble she was taking as - if it was not wholly disinterested. Lottie certainly took a vast amount of - trouble, and if Oswin Markham only appeared at the beginning of each - rehearsal and left at the conclusion, the success of the performance was - not at all jeopardised by his action. - </p> - <p> - For the entire week preceding the evening of the performance little else - was talked about in all sections of Maritzburgian society but the - prospects of its success. The ladies in the garrison were beginning to be - wearied of the topic of theatricals, and the colonel of the Bayonetteers - was heard to declare that he would not submit any longer to have the - regimental parades only half-officered day by day, and that the plea of - dramatic study would be insufficient in future to excuse an absentee. But - this vigorous action was probably accelerated by the report that reached - him of a certain lieutenant, who had only four lines to speak in the play, - having escaped duty for the entire week on the grounds of the necessity - for dramatic study. - </p> - <p> - At last the final nail was put in the fastenings of the scenery on the - stage, which a number of the Royal Engineers, under the guidance of two - officers and a clerk of the works, had erected; the footlights were after - considerable difficulty coaxed into flame. The officers of the garrison - and their wives made an exceedingly good front row in the stalls, and a - number of the sergeants and privates filled up the back seats, ready to - applaud, without reference to their merits at the performance, their - favourite officers when they should appear on the stage; the intervening - seats were supposed to be booked by the general audience, and their - punctuality of attendance proved that Lottie's labours had not been - in vain. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Harwood having tired of Durban, had been some days in the town, and he - walked from the hotel with Markham; for Mr. Markham, though the part he - was to play was one of most importance in the drama, did not think it - necessary to hang about the stage for the three hours preceding the - lifting of the curtain, as most of the Bayonetteers who were to act - believed to be prudent. Harwood took a seat in the second row of stalls, - for he had promised Lottie and one of the other young ladies who was in - the cast, to give each of them a candid opinion upon their - representations. For his own part he would have preferred giving his - opinion before seeing the representations, for he knew what a strain would - be put upon his candour after they were over. - </p> - <p> - When the orchestra—which was a great feature of the performance—struck - up an overture, the stage behind the curtain was crowded with figures in - top-boots and with noble hats encircled with ostrich feathers—the - element of brigandage entering largely into the construction of the drama - of the evening. Each of the figures carried a small pamphlet which he - studied every now and again, for in spite of the many missed parades, a - good deal of uncertainty as to the text of their parts pervaded the minds - of the histrionic Bayonetteers. Before the last notes of the overture had - crashed, Lottie Vincent, radiant in pearl powder and pencilled eyebrows, - wearing a plain muslin dress and white satin shoes, her fair hair with a - lovely white rose shining amongst its folds, tripped out. Her character in - the first act being that of a simple village maiden, she was dressed with - becoming consistency, every detail down to those white satin shoes being, - of course, in keeping with the ordinary attire of simple village maidens - wherever civilisation has spread. - </p> - <p> - “For goodness' sake leave aside your books,” she said to - the young men as she came forward. “Do you mean to bring them out - with you and read from them? Surely after ten rehearsals you might be - perfect.” - </p> - <p> - “Hang me, if I haven't a great mind not to appear at all in - this rot,” said one of the gentlemen in the top-boots to his - companions. He had caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror a minute - previously and he did not like the picture. “If it was not for the - sake of the people who have come I'd cut the whole affair.” - </p> - <p> - “She has done nothing but bully,” remarked a second of these - desperadoes in top-boots. - </p> - <p> - “All because that fellow Markham has shown himself to be no idiot,” - said a third. - </p> - <p> - “Count Rodolph loves her, but I'll spare him not: he dies - to-night,” remarked another, but he was only refreshing his memory - on the dialogue he was to speak. - </p> - <p> - When the gentleman who was acting as prompter saw that the stage was - cleared, he gave the signal for the orchestra to play the curtain up. At - the correct moment, and with a perfection of stage management that would - have been creditable to any dramatic establishment in the world, as one of - the Natal newspapers a few days afterwards remarked with great justice, - the curtain was raised, and an excellent village scene was disclosed to - the enthusiastic audience. Two of the personages came on at once, and so - soon as their identity was clearly established, the soldiers began to - applaud, which was doubtless very gratifying to the two officers, from a - regimental standpoint, though it somewhat interfered with the progress of - the scene. The prompter, however, hastened to the aid of the young men who - had lost themselves in that whirlwind of applause, and the dialogue began - to run easily. - </p> - <p> - Lottie had made for herself a little loophole in the back drop-scene - through which she observed the audience. She saw that the place was - crowded to the doors—English-speaking and Dutch-speaking burghers - were in the central seats; she smiled as she noticed the aspirants to - garrison intimacies crowding up as close as possible to the officers' - wives in the front row, and she wondered if it would be necessary to - acknowledge any of them for longer than a week. Then she saw Harwood with - the faintest smile imaginable upon his face, as the young men on the stage - repeated the words of their parts without being guilty either of the - smallest mistake or the least dramatic spirit; and this time she wondered - if, when she would be going through her part and she would look towards - Harwood, she should find the same sort of smile upon his face. She rather - thought not. Then, as the time for her call approached, she hastened round - to her entrance, waiting until the poor stuff the two young men were - speaking came to an end; then, not a second past her time, she entered, - demure and ingenuous as all village maidens in satin slippers must surely - be. - </p> - <p> - She was not disappointed in her reception by the audience. The ladies in - the front stalls who had spoken, it might be, unkindly of her in private, - now showed their good nature in public, and the field officers forgot all - the irregularities she had caused in the regiment and welcomed her - heartily; while the tradesmen in the middle rows made their applause a - matter of business. The village maiden with the satin shoes smiled in the - timid, fluttered, dovelike way that is common amongst the class, and then - went on with her dialogue. She felt altogether happy, for she knew that - the young lady who was to appear in the second scene could not possibly - meet with such an expression of good feeling as she had obtained from the - audience. - </p> - <p> - And now the play might be said to have commenced in earnest. It was by no - means a piece of French frivolity, this drama, but a genuine work of - English art as it existed thirty years ago, and it was thus certain to - commend itself to the Pietermaritzburghers who liked solidity even when it - verged upon stolidity. - </p> - <p> - <i>Throne or Spouse</i> was the title of the play, and if its incidents - were somewhat improbable and its details utterly impossible, it was not - the less agreeable to the audience. The two young men who had appeared in - top-boots on the village green had informed each other, the audience - happily overhearing, that they had been out hunting with a certain Prince, - and that they had got separated from their companions. - </p> - <p> - They embraced the moment as opportune for the discussion of a few court - affairs, such as the illness ot the monarch, and the Prince's - prospects of becoming his successor, and then they thought it would be as - well to try and find their way back to the court; so off they went. Then - Miss Vincent came on the village green and reminded herself that her name - was Marie and that she was a simple village maiden; she also recalled the - fact that she lived alone with her mother in Yonder Cottage. It seemed to - give her considerable satisfaction to reflect that, though poor, she was, - and she took it upon her to say that her mother was also, strictly - virtuous, and she wished to state in the most emphatic terms that though - she was wooed by a certain Count Rodolph, yet, as she did not love him, - she would never be his. Lottie was indeed very emphatic at this part, and - her audience applauded her determination as Marie. Curiously enough, she - had no sooner expressed herself in this fashion than one of the - Bayonetteers entered, and at the sight of him Lottie called out, “Ah, - he is here! Count Rodolph!” This the audience felt was a piece of - subtle constructive art on the part of the author. Then the new actor - replied, “Yes, Count Rodolph is here, sweet Marie, where he would - ever be, by the side of the fairest village maiden,” etc. - </p> - <p> - The new actor was attired in one of the broad hats of the period—whatever - it may have been—with a long ostrich feather. He had an immense - black moustache, and his eyebrows were exceedingly heavy. He also wore - top-boots, a long sword, and a black cloak, one fold of which he now and - again threw over his left shoulder when it worked its way down his arm. It - was not surprising that further on in the drama the Count was found to be - a dissembler; his costume fostered any proclivities in this way that might - otherwise have remained dormant. - </p> - <p> - The village maiden begged to know why the Count persecuted her with his - attentions, and he replied that he did so on account of his love for her. - She then assured him that she could never bring herself to look on him - with favour; and this naturally drew from him the energetic declaration of - his own passion for her. He concluded by asking her to be his: she cried - with emphasis, “Never!” He repeated his application, and again - she cried “Never!” and told him to begone. “You shall be - mine,” he cried, catching her by the arm. “Wretch, leave me,” - she said, in all her village-maiden dignity; he repeated his assertion, - and clasped her round the waist with ardour. Then she shrieked for help, - and a few simple villagers rushed hurriedly on the stage, but the Count - drew his sword and threatened with destruction any one who might advance. - The simple villagers thought it prudent to retire. “Ha! now, proud - Marie, you are in my power,” said the Count. “Is there no one - to save me?” shrieked Marie. “Yes, here is some one who will - save you or perish in the attempt,” came a voice from the wings, and - with an agitation pervading the sympathetic orchestra, a respectable young - man in a green hunting-suit with a horn by his side and a drawn sword in - his hand, rushed on, and was received with an outburst of applause from - the audience who, in Pietermaritzburg, as in every place else, are ever on - the side of virtue. This new actor was Oswin Markham, and it seemed that - Lottie's stories regarding the romance associated with his - appearance were successful, for not only was there much applause, but a - quiet hum of remark was heard amongst the front stalls, and it was some - moments before the business of the stage could be proceeded with. - </p> - <p> - So soon as he was able to speak, the Count wished to know who was the - intruder that dared to face one of the nobles of the land, and the - intruder replied in general terms, dwelling particularly upon the fact - that only those were noble who behaved nobly. He expressed an inclination - to fight with the Count, but the latter declined to gratify him on account - of the difference there was between their social standing, and he left the - stage saying, “Farewell, proud beauty, we shall meet again.” - Then he turned to the stranger, and, laying his hand on his sword-hilt - after he had thrown his cloak over his shoulder, he cried, “We too - shall meet again.” - </p> - <p> - The stranger then made some remarks to himself regarding the manner in - which he was stirred by Marie's beauty. He asked her who she was, - and she replied, truthfully enough, that she was a simple village maiden, - and that she lived in Yonder Cottage. He then told her that he was a - member of the Prince's retinue, and that he had lost his way at the - hunt; and he begged the girl to conduct him to Yonder Cottage. The girl - expressed her pleasure at being able to show him some little attention, - but she remarked that the stranger would find Yonder Cottage very humble. - She assured him, however, of the virtue of herself, and again went so far - as to speak for her mother. The stranger then made a nice little speech - about the constituents of true nobility, and went out with Marie as the - curtain fell. - </p> - <p> - The next scene was laid in Yonder Cottage; the virtuous mother being - discovered knitting, and whiling away the time by talking to herself of - the days when she was nurse to the late Queen. Then Marie and the stranger - entered, and there was a pleasant family party in Yonder Cottage. The - stranger was evidently struck with Marie, and the scene ended by his - swearing to make her his wife. The next act showed the stranger in his - true character as the Prince; his royal father has heard of his attachment - to Marie, and not being an enthusiast on the subject of simple village - maidens becoming allied to the royal house, he threatens to cut off the - entail of the kingdom—which it appeared he had power to do—if - the Prince does not relinquish Marie, and he dies leaving a clause in his - will to this effect. - </p> - <p> - The Prince rushes to Yonder Cottage—hears that Marie is carried off - by the Count—rescues her—marries her—and then the - virtuous mother confesses that the Prince is her own child, and Marie is - the heiress to the throne. No one appeared to dispute the story—Marie - is consequently Queen and her husband King, having through his proper - treatment of the girl gained the kingdom; and the curtain falls on general - happiness, Count Rodolph having committed suicide. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing could have been more successful,” said Lottie, all - tremulous with excitement, to Oswin, as they went off together amid a - tumult of applause, which was very sweet to her ears. - </p> - <p> - “I think it went off very well indeed,” said Oswin. “Your - acting was perfection, Miss Vincent.” - </p> - <p> - “Call me Marie,” she said playfully. “But we must really - go before the curtain; hear how they are applauding.” - </p> - <p> - “I think we have had enough of it,” said Oswin. - </p> - <p> - “Come along,” she cried; “I dislike it above all things, - but there is nothing for it.” - </p> - <p> - The call for Lottie and Oswin was determined, so after the soldiers had - called out their favourite officers, Oswin brought the girl forward, and - the enthusiasm was very great. Lottie then went off, and for a few moments - Markham remained alone upon the stage. He was most heartily applauded, - and, after acknowledging the compliment, he was just stepping back, when - from the centre of the seats a man's voice came, loud and clear: - </p> - <p> - “Bravo, old boy! you're a trump wherever you turn up.” - </p> - <p> - There was a general moving of heads, and some laughter in the front rows. - </p> - <p> - But Oswin Markham looked from where he was standing on the stage down to - the place whence that voice seemed to come. He neither laughed nor smiled, - only stepped back behind the curtain. - </p> - <p> - The stage was now crowded with the actors and their friends; everybody was - congratulating everybody else. Lottie was in the highest spirits. - </p> - <p> - “Could anything have been more successful?” she cried again to - Oswin Markham. He looked at her without answering for some moments. - “I don't know,” he said at last. “Successful? - perhaps so.” - </p> - <p> - “What on earth do you mean?” she asked; “are you afraid - of the Natal critics?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I can't say I am.” - </p> - <p> - “Of what then?” - </p> - <p> - “There is a person at the door who wishes to speak to you, Mr. - Markham,” said one of the servants coming up to Oswin. “He - says he doesn't carry cards, but you will see his name here,” - and he handed Oswin an envelope. - </p> - <p> - Oswin Markham read the name on the envelope and crushed it into his - pocket, saying to the servant: - </p> - <p> - “Show the—gentleman up to the room where I dressed.” - </p> - <p> - So Miss Lottie did not become aware of the origin of Mr. Markham's - doubt as to the success of the great drama <i>Throne or Spouse</i>. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXII. - </h2> - <p class="indent10"> - Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do surely bar the door - upon your own liberty if you deny your griefs to your friend. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - ... tempt him with speed aboard; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Indeed this counsellor - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Is now most still, most secret, and most grave, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Who was in life a foolish prating knave. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - This sudden sending him away must seem - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Deliberate.—<i>Hamlet.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N the room where - he had assumed the dress of the part he had just played, Oswin Markham was - now standing idle, and without making any attempt to remove the colour - from his face or the streaks from his eyebrows. He was still in the dress - of the Prince when the door was opened and a man entered the room eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “By Jingo! yes, I thought you'd see me,” he cried before - he had closed the door. All the people outside—and there were a good - many—who chanced to hear the tone of the voice knew that the speaker - was the man who had shouted those friendly words when Oswin was leaving - the stage. “Yes, old fellow,” he continued, slapping Markham - on the back and grasping him by the hand, “I thought I might venture - to intrude upon you. Right glad I was to see you, though, by heavens! I - thought I should have shouted out when I saw you—you, of all people, - here. Tell us how it comes, Oswin. How the deuce do you appear at this - place? Why, what's the matter with you? Have you talked so much in - that tall way on the boards that you haven't a word left to say - here? You weren't used to be dumb in the good old days—-good - old nights, my boy.” - </p> - <p> - “You won't give me a chance,” said Oswin; and he did not - even smile in response to the other's laughter. - </p> - <p> - “There then, I've dried up,” said the stranger. “But, - by my soul, I tell you I'm glad to see you. It seems to me, do you - know, that I'm drunk now, and that when I sleep off the fit you'll - be gone. I've fancied queer things when I've been drunk, as - you well know. But it's you yourself, isn't it?” - </p> - <p> - “One need have no doubt about your identity,” said Oswin. - “You talk in the same infernally muddled way that ever Harry Despard - used to talk.” - </p> - <p> - “That's like yourself, my boy,” cried the man, with a - loud laugh. “I'm beginning to feel that it's you indeed, - though you are dressed up like a Prince—by heavens! you played the - part well. I couldn't help shouting out what I did for a lark. I - wondered what you'd think when you heard my voice. But how did you - manage to turn up at Natal? tell me that. You left us to go up country, - didn't you?” - </p> - <p> - “It's a long story,” replied Oswin. “Very long, - and I am bound to change this dress. I can't go about in this - fashion for ever.” - </p> - <p> - “No more you can,” said the other. “And the sooner you - get rid of those togs the better, for by God, it strikes me that they give - you a wrong impression about yourself. You're not so hearty by a - long way as you used to be. I'll tell you what I'll do; I'll - go on to the hotel and wait there until you are in decent rig. I'll - only be in this town until to-morrow evening, and we must have a night - together.” - </p> - <p> - For the first time since the man had entered the room Oswin brightened up. - </p> - <p> - “Only till to-morrow night, Hal?” he cried. “Then we - must have a few jolly hours together before we part. I won't let you - even go to the hotel now. Stay here while I change, like a decent fellow.” - </p> - <p> - “Now that sounds like your old form, my boy; hang me if I don't - stay with you. Is that a flask in the portmanteau? It is, by Jingo, and if - it's not old Irish may I be—and cigars too. Yes, I will stay, - old fellow, for auld langsyne. This is like auld langsyne, isn't it? - Why, where are you off to?” - </p> - <p> - “I have to give a message to some one in another room,” said - Oswin, leaving the man alone. He was a tall man, apparently about the same - age as Markham. So much of his face as remained unconcealed by a shaggy, - tawny beard and whiskers was bronzed to a copper colour. His hair was - short and tawny, and his mouth was very coarse. His dress was not shabby, - but the largeness of the check on the pattern scarcely argued the - possession of a subdued taste on the part of the wearer. - </p> - <p> - He had seated himself upon a table in the room though there were plenty of - chairs, and when Oswin went out he filled the flask cup and emptied it - with a single jerk of his head; then he snatched up the hat which had been - worn by Oswin on the stage; he threw it into the air and caught it on one - of his feet, then with a laugh he kicked it across the floor. - </p> - <p> - But Oswin had gone to the room where Captain Howard, who had acted as - stage manager, was smoking after the labours of the evening. “Howard,” - Said Markham, “I must be excused from your supper to-night.” - </p> - <p> - “Nonsense,” said Howard. “It would be too ridiculous for - us to have a supper if you who have done the most work to-night should be - away. What's the matter? Have you a doctor's certificate?” - </p> - <p> - “The fact is a—a—sort of friend of mine—a man I - knew pretty intimately some time ago, has turned up here most - unexpectedly.” - </p> - <p> - “Then bring your sort of friend with you.” - </p> - <p> - “Quite impossible,” said Markham quickly. “He is not the - kind of man who would make the supper agreeable either to himself or to - any one else. You will explain to the other fellows how I am compelled to - be away.” - </p> - <p> - “But you'll turn up some time in the course of the night, won't - you?” - </p> - <p> - “I am afraid to say I shall. The fact is, my friend requires a good - deal of attention to be given to him in the course of a friendly night. If - I can manage to clear myself of him in decent time I'll be with you.” - </p> - <p> - “You must manage it,” said Howard as Oswin went back to the - room, where he found his friend struggling to pull on the green doublet in - which the Prince had appeared in the opening scene of the play. - </p> - <p> - “Hang me if I couldn't do the part like one o'clock,” - he cried; “the half of it is in the togs. You weren't loud - enough, Oswin, when you came on; you wouldn't have brought down the - gods even at Ballarat. This is how you should have done it: 'I'll - save you or——'” - </p> - <p> - “For Heaven's sake don't make a fool of yourself, Hal.” - </p> - <p> - “I was only going to show you how it should be done to rouse the - people; and as for making a fool of myself——” - </p> - <p> - “You have done that so often you think it not worth the caution. - Come now, stuff those things into the portmanteau, and I'll have on - my mufti in five minutes.” - </p> - <p> - “And then off to the hotel, and you bet your pile, as we used to say - at Chokeneck Gulch, we'll have more than a pint bottle of Bass. By - the way, how about your bronze; does the good old governor still stump up?” - </p> - <p> - “My allowance goes regularly to Australia,” said Os win, with - a stern look coming to his face. - </p> - <p> - “And where else should it go, my boy? By the way, that's a - tidy female that showed what neat ankles she had as Marie. By my soul, I - envied you squeezing her. 'What right has he to squeeze her?' - I said to myself, and then I thought if——” - </p> - <p> - “But you haven't told me how you came here,” said Oswin, - interrupting him. - </p> - <p> - “No more I did. It's easily told, my lad. It was getting too - warm for me in Melbourne, and as I had still got some cash I thought I'd - take a run to New York city—at least that's what I made up my - mind to do when I awoke one fine morning in the cabin of the <i>Virginia</i> - brig a couple of hundred miles from Cape Howe. I remembered going into a - saloon one evening and finding a lot of men giving general shouts, but - beyond that I had no idea of anything.” - </p> - <p> - “That's your usual form,” said Oswin. “So you are - bound for New York?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, the skipper of the <i>Virginia</i> had made Natal one of his - ports, and there we put in yesterday, so I ran up to this town, under what - you would call an inspiration, or I wouldn't be here now ready to - slip the tinsel from as many bottles of genuine Moët as you choose to - order. But you—what about yourself?” - </p> - <p> - “I am here, my Hal, to order as many bottles as you can slip the - tinsel off,” cried Oswin, his face flushed more deeply than when it - had been rouged before the footlights. - </p> - <p> - “Spoken in your old form, by heavens!” cried the other, - leaping from the table. “You always were a gentleman amongst us, and - you never failed us in the matter of drink. Hang me if I don't let - the <i>Virginia</i> brig—go—to—to New York without me; I'll - stay here in company of my best friend.” - </p> - <p> - “Come along,” said Oswin, leaving the room. “Whether you - go or stay we'll have a night of it at the hotel.” - </p> - <p> - They passed out together and walked up to the hotel, hearing all the white - population discussing the dramatic performance of the evening, for it had - created a considerable stir in the town. There was no moon, but the stars - were sparkling over the dark blue of the hills that almost encircle the - town. Tall Zulus stood, as they usually do after dark, talking at the - corners in their emphatic language, while here and there smaller white men - speaking Cape Dutch passed through the streets smoking their native - cigars. - </p> - <p> - “Just what you would find in Melbourne or in the direction of - Geelong, isn't it, Oswin?” said the stranger, who had his arm - inside Markham's. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, with a few modifications,” said Oswin. - </p> - <p> - “Why, hang it all, man,” cried the other. “You aren't - getting sentimental, are you? A fellow would think from the way you've - been talking in that low, hollow, parson's tone that you weren't - glad I turned up. If you're not, just say so. You won't need - to give Harry Despard a nod after you've given him a wink.” - </p> - <p> - “What an infernal fool you do make of yourself,” said Oswin. - “You know that I'm glad to have you beside me again, old - fellow,—yes, devilish glad. Confound it, man, do you fancy I've - no feeling—no recollection? Haven't we stood by each other in - the past, and won't we do it in the future?” - </p> - <p> - “We will, by heavens, my lad! and hang me if I don't smash - anything that comes on the table tonight except the sparkling. And look - here, the <i>Virginia</i> brig may slip her cable and be off to New York. - I'll stand by you while you stay here, my boy. Yes, say no more, my - mind is made up.” - </p> - <p> - “Spoken like a man!” cried Oswin, with a sudden start. “Spoken - like a man! and here we are at the hotel. We'll have one of our old - suppers together, Hal——” - </p> - <p> - “Or perish in the attempt,” shouted the other. - </p> - <p> - The stranger went upstairs, while Oswin remained below to talk to the - landlord about some matters that occupied a little time. - </p> - <p> - Markham and Harwood had a sitting-room for their exclusive use in the - hotel, but it was not into this room that Oswin brought his guest, it was - into another apartment at a different quarter of the house. The stranger - threw his hat into a corner and himself down upon a sofa with his legs - upon a chair that he had tilted back. - </p> - <p> - “Now we'll have a general shout,” he said. “Ask - all the people in the house what they'll drink. If you acted the - Prince on the stage to-night, I'll act the part here now. I've - got the change of a hundred samples of the Sydney mint, and I want to ease - myself of them. Yes, we'll have a general shout.” - </p> - <p> - “A general shout in a Dutchman's house? My boy, this isn't - a Ballarat saloon,” said Oswin. “If we hinted such a thing we'd - be turned into the street. Here is a bottle of the sparkling by way of - opening the campaign.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll open the champagne and you open the campaign, good! The - sight of you, Oswin, old fellow—well, it makes me feel that life is - a joke. Fill up your glass and we'll drink to the old times. And now - tell me all about yourself. How did you light here, and what do you mean - to do? Have you had another row in the old quarter?” - </p> - <p> - Oswin had drained his glass of champagne and had stretched himself upon - the second sofa. His face seemed pale almost to ghastliness, as persons' - faces do after the use of rouge. He gave a short laugh when the other had - spoken. - </p> - <p> - “Wait till after supper,” he cried. “I haven't a - word to throw to a dog until after supper.” - </p> - <p> - “Curse that Prince and his bluster on the stage; you're as - hoarse as a rook now, Oswin,” remarked the stranger. - </p> - <p> - In a brief space the curried crayfish and penguins' eggs, which form - the opening dishes of a Cape supper, appeared; and though Oswin's - friend seemed to have an excellent appetite, Markham himself scarcely ate - anything. It did not, however, appear that the stranger's comfort - was wholly dependent upon companionship. He ate and drank and talked - loudly whether Oswin fasted or remained mute; but when the supper was - removed and he lighted a cigar, he poured out half a bottle of champagne - into a tumbler, and cried: - </p> - <p> - “Now, my gallant Prince, give us all your eventful history since you - left Melbourne five months ago, saying you were going up country. Tell us - how you came to this place, whatever its infernal Dutch name is.” - </p> - <p> - And Oswin Markham, sitting at the table, told him. - </p> - <p> - But while this <i>tète-à-tète</i> supper was taking place at the hotel, - the messroom of the Bayonetteers was alight, and the regimental cook had - excelled himself in providing dishes that were wholly English, without the - least colonial flavour, for the officers and their guests, among whom was - Harwood. - </p> - <p> - Captain Howard's apology for Markham was not freely accepted, more - especially as Markham did not put in an appearance during the entire of - the supper. Harwood was greatly surprised at his absence, and the story of - a friend having suddenly turned up he rejected as a thing devised as an - excuse. He did not return to the hotel until late—more than an hour - past midnight. He paused outside the hotel door for some moments, hearing - the sound of loud laughter and a hoarse voice singing snatches of - different songs. - </p> - <p> - “What is the noisy party upstairs?” he asked of the man who - opened the door. - </p> - <p> - “That is Mr. Markham and his friend, sir. They have taken supper - together,” said the servant. - </p> - <p> - Harwood did not express the surprise he felt. He took his candle, and went - to his own room, and, as he smoked a cigar before going to bed, he heard - the intermittent sounds of the laughter and the singing. - </p> - <p> - “I shall have a talk with this old friend of Mr. Markham's in - the morning,” he said, after he had stated another of his problems - to sleep over. - </p> - <p> - Markham and he had been accustomed to breakfast together in their - sitting-room since they had come up from Durban; but when Harwood awoke - the next morning, and came in to breakfast, he found only one cup upon the - table. - </p> - <p> - “Why is there not a cup for Mr. Markham?” he asked of the - servant. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Markham, sir, left with his friend for Durban at four o'clock - this morning,” said the man. - </p> - <p> - “What, for Durban?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir. Mr. Markham had ordered a Cape cart and team to be here - at that time. I thought you might have awakened as they were leaving.” - </p> - <p> - “No, I did not,” said Mr. Harwood quietly; and the servant - left the room. - </p> - <p> - Here was something additional for the special correspondent of the <i>Dominant - Trumpeter</i> to ponder over and reduce to the terms of a problem. He - reflected upon his early suspicions of Oswin Markham. Had he not even - suggested that Markham's name was probably something very different - from what he had called himself? Mr. Harwood knew well that men have a - curious tendency to call themselves by the names of the persons to whom - bank orders are made payable, and he believed that such a subtle sympathy - might exist between the man who had been picked up at sea and the document - that was found in his possession. Yes, Mr. Harwood felt that his instincts - were not perhaps wholly in error regarding Mr. Oswin Markham, cleverly - though he had acted the part of the Prince in that stirring drama on the - previous evening. - </p> - <p> - On the afternoon of the following day, however, Oswin Markham entered the - hotel at Pietermaritzburg and walked into the room where Harwood was - working up a letter for his newspaper, descriptive of life among the - Zulus. - </p> - <p> - “Good heavens!” cried the “special,” starting up; - “I did not expect you back so soon. Why, you could only have stayed - a few hours at the port.” - </p> - <p> - “It was enough for me,” said Oswin, a smile lighting up his - pale face; “quite enough for me. I only waited to see the vessel - with my friend aboard safely over the bar. Then I returned.” - </p> - <p> - “You went away from here in something of a hurry, did you not, - Markham?” - </p> - <p> - Oswin laughed as he threw himself into a chair. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, something of a hurry. My friend is—let us say, - eccentric. We left without going to bed the night before last. Never mind, - Harwood, old fellow; he is gone, and here I am now, ready for anything you - propose—an excursion across the Tugela or up to the Transvaal—anywhere—anywhere—I'm - free now and myself again.” - </p> - <p> - “Free?” said Harwood curiously. “What do you mean by - free?” - </p> - <p> - Oswin looked at him mutely for a moment, then he laughed, saying: - </p> - <p> - “Free—yes, free from that wretched dramatic affair. Thank - Heaven, it's off my mind!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXIII. - </h2> - <p class="indent10"> - <i>Horatio</i>. My lord, the King your father. - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - <i>Hamlet</i>. The King—my father? - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - <i>Horatio</i>. Season your admiration for a while. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - In what particular thought to work I know not; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - But in the gross and scope of mine opinion - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - This bodes some strange eruption to our state. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Our last King, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Whose image even but now appear'd to us, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - ... by a sealed compact - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Did forfeit... all those his lands - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - <i>Hamlet.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>Y son,” said - The Macnamara, “you ought to be ashamed of your threatment of your - father. The like of your threatment was never known in the family of the - Macnamaras, or, for that matter, of the O'Dermots. A stain has been - thrown upon the family that centuries can't wash out.” - </p> - <p> - “It is no stain either upon myself or our family for me to have set - out to do some work in the world,” said Standish proudly, for he - felt capable of maintaining the dignity of labour. “I told you that - I would not pass my life in the idleness of Innishdermot. I—————-” - </p> - <p> - “It's too much for me, Standish O'Dermot Macnamara—to - hear you talk lightly of Innishdermot is too much for the blood of the - representative of the ancient race. Don't, my boy, don't.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't talk lightly of it; when you told me it was gone from - us I felt it as deeply as any one could feel it.” - </p> - <p> - “It's one more wrong added to the grievances of our thrampled - counthry,” cried the hereditary monarch of the islands with fervour. - “And yet you have never sworn an oath to be revenged. You even tell - me that you mean to be in the pay of the nation that has done your family - this wrong—that has thrampled The Macnamara into the dust. This is - the bitterest stroke of all.” - </p> - <p> - “I have told you all,” said Standish. “Colonel Gerald - was kinder to me than words could express. He is going to England in two - months, but only to remain a week, and then he will leave for the Castaway - Islands. He has already written to have my appointment as private - secretary confirmed, and I shall go at once to have everything ready for - his arrival. It's not much I can do, God knows, but what I can do I - will for him. I'll work my best.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, this is bitter—bitter—to hear a Macnamara talk of - work; and just now, too, when the money has come to us.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't want the money,” said Standish indignantly. - </p> - <p> - “Ye're right, my son, so far. What signifies fifteen thousand - pounds when the feelings of an ancient family are outraged?” - </p> - <p> - “But I can't understand how those men had power to take the - land, if you did not wish to give it to them, for their railway and their - hotel.” - </p> - <p> - “It's more of the oppression, my son—more of the - thrampling of our counthry into the dust. I rejected their offers with - scorn at first; but I found out that they could get power from the - oppressors of our counthry to buy every foot of the ground at the price - put on it by a man they call an arbithrator—so between thraitors and - arbithrators I knew I couldn't hold out. With tears in my eyes I - signed the papers, and now all the land from the mouth of Suangorm to - Innishdermot is in the hands of the English company—all but the - castle—thank God they couldn't wrest that from me. If you'd - only been by me, Standish, I would have held out against them all; but - think of the desolate old man sitting amongst the ruins of his home and - the tyrants with the gold—I could do nothing.” - </p> - <p> - “And then you came out here. Well, father, I'm glad to see - you, and Colonel Gerald will be so too, and—Daireen.” - </p> - <p> - “Aye,” said The Macnamara. “Daireen is here too. And - have you been talking to the lovely daughter of the Geralds, my boy? Have - you been confessing all you confessed to me, on that bright day at - Innishdermot? Have you——” - </p> - <p> - “Look here, father,” said Standish sternly; “you must - never allude to anything that you forced me to say then. It was a dream of - mine, and now it is past.” - </p> - <p> - “You can hold your head higher than that now, my boy,” said - The Macnamara proudly. “You're not a beggar now, Standish; - money's in the family.” - </p> - <p> - “As if money could make any difference,” said Standish. - </p> - <p> - “It makes all the difference in the world, my boy,” said The - Macnamara; but suddenly recollecting his principles, he added, “That - is, to some people; but a Macnamara without a penny might aspire to the - hand of the noblest in the land. Oh, here she comes—the bright - snowdhrop of Glenmara—the arbutus-berry of Craig-Innish; and her - father too—oh, why did he turn to the Saxons?” - </p> - <p> - The Macnamara, Prince of Innishdermot, Chief of the Islands and Lakes, and - King of all Munster, was standing with his son in the coffee-room of the - hotel, having just come ashore from the steamer that had brought him out - to the Cape. The patriot had actually left his land for the first time in - his life, and had proceeded to the colony in search of his son, and he - found his son waiting for him at the dock gates. - </p> - <p> - That first letter which Standish received from his father had indeed been - very piteous, and if the young man had not been so resolute in his - determination to work, he would have returned to Innishdermot once more, - to comfort his father in his trials. But the next mail brought a second - communication from The Macnamara to say that he could endure no longer the - desolation of the lonely hearth of his ancestral castle, but would set out - in search of his lost offspring through all the secret places of the - earth. Considering that he had posted this letter to the definite address - of his offspring, the effect of the vagueness of his expressed resolution - was somewhat lessened. - </p> - <p> - Standish received the letter with dismay, and Colonel Gerald himself felt - a little uneasiness at the prospect of having The Macnamara quartered upon - him for an uncertain period. He was well aware of the largeness of the - ideas of The Macnamara on many matters, and in regard to the question of - colonial hospitality he felt that the views of the hereditary prince would - be liberal to an inconvenient degree. It was thus with something akin to - consternation that he listened to the eloquent letter which Standish read - with flushed face and trembling hands. - </p> - <p> - “We shall be very pleased to see The Macnamara here,” said - Colonel Gerald; and Daireen laughed, saying she could not believe that - Standish's father would ever bring himself to depart from his - kingdom. It was on the next day that Colonel Gerald had an interview of - considerable duration with Standish on a matter of business, he said; and - when it was over and the young man's qualifications had been judged - of, Standish found himself in a position either to accept or decline the - office of private secretary to the new governor of the lovely Castaway - group. With tears he left the presence of the governor, and went to his - room to weep the fulness from his mind and to make a number of firm - resolutions as to his future of hard work; and that very evening Colonel - Gerald had written to the Colonial Office nominating Standish to the - appointment; so that the matter was considered settled, and Standish felt - that he did not fear to face his father. - </p> - <p> - But when Standish had met The Macnamara on the arrival of the mail steamer - a week after he had received that letter stating his intentions, the young - man learned, what apparently could not be included in a letter without - proving harassing to its eloquence, that the extensive lands along the - coastway of the lough had been sold to an English company of speculators - who had come to the conclusion that a railway made through the picturesque - district would bring a fortune to every one who might be so fortunate as - to have money invested in the undertaking. So a railway was to be made, - and a gigantic hotel built to overlook the lough. The shooting and fishing - rights—in fact every right and every foot of ground, had been sold - for a large sum to the company by The Macnamara. And though Standish had - at first felt the news as a great blow to him, he subsequently became - reconciled to it, for his father's appearance at the Cape with - several thousand pounds was infinitely more pleasing to him than if the - representative of The Macnamaras had come in his former condition, which - was simply one of borrowing powers. - </p> - <p> - “It's the snowdhrop of Glenmara,” said The Macnamara, - kissing the hand of Daireen as he met her at the door of the room. “And - you, George, my boy,” he continued, turning to her father; “I - may shake hands with you as a friend, without the action being turned to - mean that I forgive the threatment my counthry has received from the - nation whose pay you are still in. Yes, only as a friend I shake hands - with you, George.” - </p> - <p> - “That is a sufficient ground for me, Macnamara,” said the - colonel. “We won't go into the other matters just now.” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot believe that this is Cape Town,” said Daireen. - “Just think of our meeting here to-day. Oh, if we could only have a - glimpse of the dear old Slieve Docas!” - </p> - <p> - “Why shouldn't you see it, white dove?” said The - Macnamara in Irish to the girl, whose face brightened at the sound of the - tongue that brought back so many pleasant recollections to her. “Why - shouldn't you?” he continued, taking from one of the boxes of - his luggage an immense bunch of purple heather in gorgeous bloom. “I - gathered it for you from the slope of the mountain. It brings you the - scent of the finest hill in the world.” - </p> - <p> - The girl caught the magnificent bloom in both her hands and put her face - down to it. As the first breath of the hill she loved came to her in this - strange land they saw her face lighten. Then she turned away and buried - her head in the scents of the hills—in the memories of the mountains - and the lakes, while The Macnamara spoke on in the musical tongue that - lived in her mind associated with all the things of the land she loved. - </p> - <p> - “And Innishdermot,” said Colonel Gerald at length, “how - is the seat of our kings?” - </p> - <p> - “Alas, my counthry! thrampled on—bethrayed—crushed to - the ground!” said The Macnamara. “You won't believe it, - George—no, you won't. They have spoiled me of all I possessed—they - have driven me out of the counthry that my sires ruled when the oppressors - were walking about in the skins of wild beasts. Yes, George, Innishdermot - is taken from me and I've no place to shelter me.” - </p> - <p> - Colonel Gerald began to look grave and to feel much graver even than he - looked. The Macnamara shelterless was certainly a subject for serious - consideration. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Standish, observing the expression on his face, - “you would wonder how any company could find it profitable to pay - fifteen thousand pounds for the piece of land. That is what the new - railway people paid my father.” - </p> - <p> - Once more the colonel's face brightened, but The Macnamara stood up - proudly, saying: - </p> - <p> - “Pounds! What are pounds to the feelings of a true patriot? What can - money do to heal the wrongs of a race?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing,” said the colonel; “nothing whatever. But we - must hasten out to our cottage. I'll get a coolie to take your - luggage to the railway station. We shall drive out. My dear Dolly, come - down from yonder mountain height where you have gone on wings of heather. - I'll take out the bouquet for you.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Daireen. “I'll not let any one carry it - for me.” - </p> - <p> - And they all went out of the hotel to the carriage. - </p> - <p> - The <i>maître d'hôtel</i>, who had been listening to the speech of - The Macnamara in wonder, and had been finally mystified by the Celtic - language, hastened to the visitors' book in which The Macnamara had - written his name; but this last step certainly did not tend to make - everything clear, for in the book was written: - </p> - <p> - “Macnamara, Prince of the Isles, Chief of Innish-dermot and the - Lakes, and King of Munster.” - </p> - <p> - “And with such a nose!” said the <i>maître d'hôtel</i>. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXIV. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - To give these... duties to your father. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - In that and all things we show our duty. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - <i>King</i>. What wouldst thou beg, Laertes? - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - What wouldst thou have? - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - <i>Laertes</i>. Your leave and favour to ret urn—<i>Hamlet</i>. - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>O these four - exiles from Erin sitting out on the stoep of the Dutch cottage after - dinner very sweet it was to dream of fatherland. The soft light through - which the broad-leaved, motionless plants glimmered was, of course, not to - be compared with the long dwindling twilights that were wont to overhang - the slopes of Lough Suangorm; and that mighty peak which towered above - them, flanked by the long ridge of Table Mountain, was a poor thing in the - eyes of those who had witnessed the glories of the heather-swathed Slieve - Docas. - </p> - <p> - The cries ot the bullock wagoners, which were faintly heard from the road, - did not interfere with the musings of any of the party, nor with the - harangue of The Macnamara. - </p> - <p> - Very pleasant it was to hear The Macnamara talk about his homeless - condition as attributable to the long course of oppression persisted in by - the Saxon Monarchy—at least so Colonel Gerald thought, for in a - distant colony a harangue on the subject of British tyranny in Ireland - does not sound very vigorous, any more than does a burning revolutionary - ode when read a century or so after the revolution has taken place. - </p> - <p> - But poor Standish, who had spent a good many years of his life breathing - in of the atmosphere of harangue, began to feel impatient at his sire's - eloquence. Standish knew very well that his father had made a hard bargain - with the railway and hotel company that had bought the land; nay, he even - went so far as to conjecture that the affectionate yearning which had - caused The Macnamara to come out to the colony in search of his son might - be more plainly defined as an impulse of prudence to escape from certain - of his creditors before they could hear of his having received a large sum - of money. Standish wondered how Colonel Gerald could listen to all that - his father was saying when he could not help being conscious of the - nonsense of it all, for the young man was not aware of the pleasant - memories of his youth that were coming back to the colonel under the - influence of The Macnamara's speech. - </p> - <p> - The next day, however, Standish had a conversation of considerable length - with his father, and The Macnamara found that he had made rapid progress - in his knowledge of the world since he had left his secluded home. In the - face of his father he insisted on his father's promising to remove - from the Dutch cottage at the end of a few days. The Macnamara's - notions of hospitality were very large, and he could not see why Colonel - Gerald should have the least feeling except of happiness in entertaining a - shelterless monarch; but Standish was firm, and Colonel Gerald did not - resist so stoutly as The Macnamara felt he should have done; so that at - the end of the week Daireen and her father were left alone for the first - time since they had come together at the Cape. - </p> - <p> - They found it very agreeable to be able to sit together and ride together - and talk without reserve. Standish Macnamara was, beyond doubt, very good - company, and his father was even more inclined to be sociable, but no one - disputed the wisdom of the young man's conduct in curtailing his - visit and his father's to the Dutch cottage. The Macnamara had his - pockets filled with money, and as Standish knew that this was a strange - experience for him, he resolved that the weight of responsibility which - the preservation of so large a sum was bound to entail, should be reduced; - so he took a cottage at Rondebosch for his father and himself, and even - went the length of buying a horse. The lordliness of the ideas of the - young man who had only had a few months' experience of the world - greatly impressed his father, and he paid for everything without a murmur. - </p> - <p> - Standish had, at the intervals of his father's impassioned - discourses, many a long and solitary ride and many a lengthened reverie - amongst the pines that grow beside The Flats. The resolutions he made as - to his life at the Castaway group were very numerous, and the visions that - floated before his eyes were altogether very agreeable. He was beginning - to feel that he had accomplished a good deal of that ennobling hard work - in the world which he had resolved to set about fulfilling. His previous - resolutions had not been made carelessly: he had grappled with adverse - Fate, he felt, and was he not getting the better of this contrary power? - </p> - <p> - But not many days after the arrival of The Macnamara another personage of - importance made his appearance in Cape Town. The Bishop of the Calapash - Islands and Metropolitan of the Salamander Archipelago had at last found a - vessel to convey him to where his dutiful son was waiting for him. - </p> - <p> - The prelate felt that he had every reason to congratulate himself upon the - opportuneness of his arrival, for Mr. Glaston assured his father, after - the exuberance of their meeting had passed away, that if the vessel had - not appeared within the course of another week, he would have been - compelled to defer the gratification of his filial desires for another - year. - </p> - <p> - “A colony is endurable for a week,” said Mr. Glaston; “it - is wearisome at the end of a fortnight; but a month spent with colonists - has got a demoralising effect that years perhaps may fail to obliterate.” - </p> - <p> - The bishop felt that indeed he had every reason to be thankful that - unfavourable winds had not prolonged the voyage of his vessel. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford was, naturally enough, one of the first persons at the Cape - to visit the bishop, for she had known him years before—she had - indeed known most Colonial celebrities in her time—and she took the - opportunity to explain to him that Colonel Gerald had been counting the - moments until the arrival of the vessel from the Salamanders, so great was - his anxiety to meet with the Metropolitan of that interesting archipelago, - with whom he had been acquainted a good many years before. This was very - gratifying to the bishop, who liked to be remembered by his friends; he - had an idea that even the bishop of a distant colony runs a chance of - being forgotten in the world unless he has written an heretical book, so - he was glad when, a few days after his arrival at Cape Town, he received a - visit from Colonel Gerald and an invitation to dinner. - </p> - <p> - This was very pleasing to Mrs. Crawford, for, of course, Algernon Glaston - was included in the invitation, and she contrived without any difficulty - that he should be seated by the side of Miss Gerald. Her skill was amply - rewarded, she felt, when she observed Mr. Glaston and Daireen engaged in - what sounded like a discussion on the musical landscapes of Liszt; to be - engaged—even on a discussion of so subtle a nature—was - something, Mrs. Crawford thought. - </p> - <p> - In the course of this evening, she herself, while the bishop was smiling - upon Daireen in a way that had gained the hearts, if not the souls, of the - Salamanderians, got by the side of Mr. Glaston, intent upon following up - the advantage the occasion offered. - </p> - <p> - “I am so glad that the bishop has taken a fancy to Daireen,” - she said. “Daireen is a dear good girl—is she not?” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Glaston raised his eyebrows and touched the extreme point of his - moustache before he answered a question so pronounced. “Ah, she is—improving,” - he said slowly. “If she leaves this place at once she may improve - still.” - </p> - <p> - “She wants some one to be near her capable of moulding her tastes—don't - you think?” - </p> - <p> - “She <i>needs</i> such a one. I should not like to say <i>wants,</i>” - remarked Mr. Glaston. - </p> - <p> - “I am sure Daireen would be very willing to learn, Mr. Glaston; she - believes in you, I know,” said Mrs. Crawford, who was proceeding on - an assumption of the broad principles she had laid down to Daireen - regarding the effect of flattery upon the race. But her words did not - touch Mr. Glaston deeply: he was accustomed to be believed in by girls. - </p> - <p> - “She has taste—some taste,” he replied, though the - concession was not forced from him by Mrs. Crawford's revelation to - him. “Yes; but of what value is taste unless it is educated upon the - true principles of Art?” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, what indeed?” - </p> - <p> - “Miss Gerald's taste is as yet only approaching the right - tracks of culture. One shudders, anticipating the effect another month of - life in such a place as this may have upon her. For my own part, I do not - suppose that I shall be myself again for at least a year after I return. I - feel my taste utterly demoralised through the two months of my stay here; - and I explained to my father that it will be necessary for him to resign - his see if he wishes to have me near him at all. It is quite impossible - for me to come out here again. The three months' absence from - England that my visit entails is ruinous to me.” - </p> - <p> - “I have always thought of your self-sacrifice as an example of true - filial duty, Mr. Glaston. I know that Daireen thinks so as well.” - </p> - <p> - But Mr. Glaston did not seem particularly anxious to talk of Daireen. - </p> - <p> - “Yes; my father must resign his see,” he continued. - </p> - <p> - “The month I have just passed has left too terrible recollections - behind it to allow of my running a chance of its being repeated. The only - person I met in the colony who was not hopelessly astray was that Miss - Vincent.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” cried Mrs. Crawford, almost shocked. “Oh, Mr. - Glaston! you surely do not mean that! Good gracious!—Lottie Vincent!” - </p> - <p> - “Miss Vincent was the only one who, I found, had any correct idea of - Art; and yet, you see, how she turned out.” - </p> - <p> - “Turned out? I should think so indeed. Lottie Vincent was always - turning out since the first time I met her.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; the idea of her acting in company of such a man as this - Markham—a man who had no hesitation in going to view a picture by - candlelight—it is too distressing.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear Mr. Glaston, I think they will get on very well together. - You do not know Lottie Vincent as I know her. She has behaved with the - most shocking ingratitude towards me. But we are parted now, and I shall - take good care she does not impose upon me again.” - </p> - <p> - “It scarcely matters how one's social life is conducted if one's - artistic life is correct,” said Mr. Glaston. - </p> - <p> - At this assertion, which she should have known to be one of the articles - of Mr. Glaston's creed, Mrs. Crawford gave a little start. She - thought it better, however, not to question its soundness. As a matter of - fact, the bishop himself, if he had heard his son enunciate such a - precept, would not have questioned its soundness; for Mr. Glaston spake as - one having authority, and most people whose robustness was not altogether - mental, believed his Gospel of Art. - </p> - <p> - “No doubt what you say is—ah—very true,” said Mrs. - Crawford. “But I do wish, Mr. Glaston, that you could find time to - talk frequently to Daireen on these subjects. I should be so sorry if the - dear child's ideas were allowed to run wild. Your influence might - work wonders with her. There is no one here now who can interfere with - you.” - </p> - <p> - “Interfere with me, Mrs. Crawford?” - </p> - <p> - “I mean, you know, that Mr. Harwood, with his meretricious - cleverness, might possibly—ah—well, you know how easily girls - are led.” - </p> - <p> - “If there would be a possibility of Miss Gerald's being - influenced in a single point by such a man as that Mr. Harwood, I fear not - much can be hoped for her,” said Mr. Glaston. - </p> - <p> - “We should never be without hope,” said Mrs. Crawford. “For - my own part, I hope a great deal—a very great deal—from your - influence over Daireen; and I am exceedingly happy that the bishop seems - so pleased with her.” - </p> - <p> - The good bishop was indeed distributing his benedictory smiles freely, and - Daireen came in for a share of his favours. Her father wondered at the - prodigality of the churchman's smiles; for as a chaplain he was not - wont to be anything but grave. The colonel did not reflect that while - smiling may be a grievous fault in a chaplain, it can never be anything - but ornamental to a bishop. - </p> - <p> - A few days afterwards Mrs. Crawford called upon the bishop, and had an - interesting conversation with him on the subject of his son's future—a - question to which of late the bishop himself had given a good deal of - thought; for in the course of his official investigations on the question - of human existence he had been led to believe that the duration of life - has at all times been uncertain; he had more than once communicated this - fact to dusky congregations, and by reducing the application of the - painful truth, he had come to feel that the life of even a throned bishop - is not exempt from the fatalities of mankind. - </p> - <p> - As the bishop's son was accustomed to spend half of the revenues of - his father's see, his father was beginning to have an anxiety about - the future of the young man; for he did not think that his successor to - the prelacy of the Calapash Islands would allow Mr. Glaston to draw, as - usual, upon the income accruing to the office. The bishop was not so - utterly unworldly in his notions but that he knew there exist other means - of amassing wealth than by writing verses in a pamphlet-magazine, or even - composing delicate impromptus in minor keys for one's own hearing, - His son had not felt it necessary to occupy his mind with any profession, - so that his future was somewhat difficult to foresee with any degree of - clearness. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford, however, spoke many comforting words to the bishop - regarding a provision for his son's future. Daireen Gerald, she - assured him, besides being one of the most charming girls in the world, - was the only child of her father, and her father's estates in the - South of Ireland were extensive and profitable. - </p> - <p> - When Mrs. Crawford left him, the bishop felt glad that he had smiled so - frequently upon Miss Gerald. He had heard that no kindly smile was - bestowed in vain, but the truth of the sentiment had never before so - forced itself upon his mind. He smiled again in recollection of his - previous smiles. He felt that indeed Miss Gerald was a charming girl, and - Mrs. Crawford was most certainly a wonderful woman; and it can scarcely be - doubted that the result of the bishop's reflections proved the - possession on his part of powerful mental resources, enabling him to - arrive at subtle conclusions on questions of perplexity. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXV. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - Too much of water had'st thou, poor Ophelia. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - How can that be unless she drowned herself? - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - If the man go to this water... it is, will he, nill he, he goes; mark you - that.—<i>Hamlet</i>. - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>TANDISH Macnamara - had ridden to the Dutch cottage, but he found it deserted. Colonel Gerald, - one of the servants informed him, had early in the day driven to Simon's - Town, and had taken Miss Gerald with him, but they would both return in - the evening. Sadly the young man turned away, and it is to be feared that - his horse had a hard time of it upon The Flats. The waste of sand was - congenial with his mood, and so was the rapid motion. - </p> - <p> - But while he was riding about in an aimless way, Daireen and her father - were driving along the lovely road that runs at the base of the low hills - which form a mighty causeway across the isthmus between Table Bay and - Simon's Bay. Colonel Gerald had received a message that the - man-of-war which had been stationed at the chief of the Castaway group had - called at Simon's Bay; he was anxious to know how the provisional - government was progressing under the commodore of those waters whose green - monotony is broken by the gentle cliff's of the Castaways, and - Daireen had been allowed to accompany her father to the naval station. - </p> - <p> - The summer had not yet advanced sufficiently far to make tawny the dark - green coarse herbage of the hillside, and the mass of rich colouring lent - by the heaths and the prickly-pear hedges made Daireen almost jealous for - the glories of the slopes of Glenmara. For some distance over the road the - boughs of Australian oaks in heavy foilage were leaning; but when - Constantia and its evenly set vineyards were passed some distance, Daireen - heard the sound of breaking waves, and in an instant afterwards the road - bore them down to the water's edge at Kalk Bay, a little rocky - crescent enclosing green sparkling waves. Upon a pebbly beach a few - fishing-boats were drawn up, and the outlying spaces were covered with - drying nets, the flavour of which was much preferable to that of the - drying fish that were near. - </p> - <p> - On still the road went until it lost itself upon the mighty beaches of - False Bay. Down to the very brink of the great green waves that burst in - white foam and clouds of mist upon the sand the team of the wagonette was - driven, and on along the snowy curve for miles until Simon's Bay - with its cliffs were reached, and the horses were pulled up at the hotel - in the single street of Simon's Town at the base of the low ridge of - the purple hill. - </p> - <p> - “You will not be lonely, Dolly,” said Colonel Gerald as he - left the hotel after lunch to meet the commander of the man-of-war of - which the yellow-painted hull and long streaming pennon could be seen from - the window, opposite the fort at the farthest arm of the bay. - </p> - <p> - “Lonely?” said the girl. “I hope I may, for I feel I - would like a little loneliness for a change. I have not been lonely since - I was at Glenmara listening to Murrough O'Brian playing a dirge. Run - away now, papa, and you can tell me when we are driving home what the - Castaways are really like.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll make particular inquiries as to the possibilities of - lawn-tennis,” said her father, as he went down the steps to the red - street. - </p> - <p> - Daireen saw a sergeant's party of soldiers carry arms to the - colonel, though he wore no uniform and had not been at this place for - years; but even less accustomed observers than the men would have known - that he was a soldier. Tall, straight, and with bright gray eyes somewhat - hollower than they had been twenty years before, he looked a soldier in - every point—one who had served well and who had yet many years of - service before him. - </p> - <p> - How noble he looked, Daireen thought, as he kissed his hand up to her. And - then she thought how truly great his life had been. Instead of coming home - after his time of service had expired, he had continued at his post in - India, unflinching beneath the glare of the sun overhead or from the - scorching of the plain underfoot; and here he was now, not going home to - rest for the remainder of his life, but ready to face an arduous duty on - behalf of his country. She knew that he had been striving through all - these years to forget in the work he was accomplishing the one grief of - his life. She had often seen him gazing at her face, and she knew why he - had sighed as he turned away. - </p> - <p> - She had not meant to feel lonely in her father's absence, but her - thoughts somehow were not of that companionable kind which, coming to one - when alone, prevent one's feeling lonely. - </p> - <p> - She picked up the visitors' book and read all the remarks that had - been written in English for the past years; but even the literature of an - hotel visitor's book fails at some moments to relieve a reader's - mind. She turned over the other volumes, one of which was the Commercial - Code of Signals, and the other a Dutch dictionary. She read one of Mr. - Harwood's letters in a back number of the <i>Dominant Trumpeter</i>, - and she found that she could easily recall the circumstances under which, - in various conversations, he had spoken to her every word of that column - and a quarter. She wondered if special correspondents write out every - night all the remarks that they have heard during the day. But even the - attempt to solve this problem did not make her feel brisk. - </p> - <p> - What was the thought which was hovering about her, and which she was - trying to avoid by all the means in her power? She could not have defined - it. The boundaries of that thought were too vague to be outlined by words. - </p> - <p> - She glanced out of the window for a while, and then walked to the door and - looked over the iron balcony at the head of the steps. Only a few people - were about the street. Gazing out seawards, she saw a signal flying from - the peak of the man-of-war, and in a few minutes she saw a boat put off - and row steadily for the shore near the far-off fort at the headland. She - knew the boat was to convey her father aboard the vessel. She stood there - watching it until it had landed and was on its way back with her father in - the stern. - </p> - <p> - Then she went along the road until she had left the limits of the town, - and was standing between the hill and the sea. Very lovely the sea looked - from where it was breaking about the rocks beneath her, out to the horizon - which was undefined in the delicate mist that rose from the waters. - </p> - <p> - She stood for a long time tasting of the freshness of the breeze. She - could see the man-of-war's boat making its way through the waves - until it at last reached the ship, and then she seemed to have lost the - object of her thoughts. She turned off the road and got upon the sloping - beach along which she walked some distance. - </p> - <p> - She had met no one since she had left the hotel, and the coast of the Bay - round to the farthest headland seemed deserted; but somehow her mood of - loneliness had gone from her as she stood at the brink of those waters - whose music was as the sound of a song of home heard in a strange land. - What was there to hinder her from thinking that she was standing at the - uttermost headland of Lough Suangorm, looking out once more upon the - Atlantic? - </p> - <p> - She crossed a sandy hollow and got upon a ledge of rocks, up to which the - sea was beating. Here she seated herself, and sent her eyes out seawards - to where the war-ship was lying, and then that thought which had been near - her all the day came upon her. It was not of the Irish shore that the glad - waters were laving. It was only of some words that had been spoken to her. - “For a month we will think of each other,” were the words, and - she reflected that now this month had passed. The month that she had - promised to think of him had gone, but it had not taken with it her - thoughts of the man who had uttered those words. - </p> - <p> - She looked out dreamily across the green waves, wondering if he had - returned. Surely he would not let a day pass without coming to her side to - ask her if she had thought of him during the month. And what answer would - she give him? She smiled. - </p> - <p> - “Love, my love,” she said, “when have I ceased to think - of you? When shall I cease to think of you?” - </p> - <p> - The tears forced themselves into her eyes with the pure intensity of her - passion. She sat there dreaming her dreams and thinking her thoughts until - she seemed only to hear the sound of the waters of the distance; the sound - of the breaking waves seemed to have passed away. It was this sudden - consciousness that caused her to awake from her reverie. She turned and - saw that the waves were breaking on the beach <i>behind her</i>—the - rock where she was sitting was surrounded with water, and every plunge of - the advancing tide sent a swirl of water through the gulf that separated - the rocks from the beach. - </p> - <p> - In an instant she had started to her feet. She saw the death that was - about her. She looked to the rock where she was standing. The highest, - ledge contained a barnacle. She knew it was below the line of high water, - and now not more than a couple of feet of the ledge were uncovered. A - little cry of horror burst from her, and at the same instant the boom of a - gun came across the water from the man-of-war; she looked and saw that the - boat was on its way to the shore again. In another half-minute a second - report sounded, and she knew that they were firing a salute to her father. - They were doing this while his daughter was gazing at death in the face. - </p> - <p> - Could they see her from the boat? It seemed miles away, but she took off - her white jacket and standing up waved it. Not the least sign was made - from the boat. The report of the guns echoed along the shore mingling with - her cries. But a sign was given from the water: a wave flung its spray - clear over the rock. She knew what it meant. - </p> - <p> - She saw in a moment what chance she had of escape. The water between the - rock and the shore was not yet very deep. If she could bear the brunt of - the wild rush of the waves that swept into the hollow she could make her - way ashore. - </p> - <p> - In an instant she had stepped down to the water, still holding on by the - rocks. A moment of stillness came and she rushed through the waves, but - that sand—it sank beneath her first step, and she fell backwards, - then came another swirl of eddying waves that plunged through the gulf and - swept her away with their force, out past the rock she had been on. One - cry she gave as she felt herself lost. - </p> - <p> - The boom of the saluting gun doing honour to her father was the sound she - heard as the cruel foam flashed into her face. - </p> - <p> - But at her cry there started up from behind a rock far ashore the figure - of a man. He looked about him in a bewildered way. Then he made a rush for - the beach, seeing the toy the waves were heaving about. He plunged in up - to his waist. - </p> - <p> - “Damn the sand!” he cried, as he felt it yield. He bent - himself against the current and took advantage of every relapse of the - tide to rush a few steps onward. He caught the rock and swung himself - round to the seaward side. Then he waited until the next wave brought that - helpless form near him. He did not leave his hold of the rock, but before - the backward sweep came he clutched the girl's dress. Then came a - struggle between man and wave. The man conquered. He had the girl on one - of his arms, and had placed her upon the rock for an instant. Then he - swung himself to the shoreward side, caught her up again, and stumbling, - and sinking, and battling with the current, he at last gained a sound - footing. - </p> - <p> - Daireen was exhausted but not insensible. She sat upon the dry sand where - the man had placed her, and she drew back the wet hair from her face. Then - she saw the man stand by the edge of the water and shake his fist at it. - </p> - <p> - “It's not the first time I've licked you singlehanded,” - he said, “and it'll not be the last. Your bullying roar won't - wash here.” Then he seemed to catch sight of something on the top of - a wave. “Hang me if you'll get even her hat,” he said, - and once more he plunged in. The hat was farther out than the girl had - been, and he had more trouble in securing it. Daireen saw that his head - was covered more than once, and she was in great distress. At last, - however, he struggled to the beach with the hat in his hand. It was very - terrible to the girl to see him turn, squeezing the water from his hair, - and curse the sea and all that pertained to it. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly, however, he looked round and walked up to where she was now - standing. He handed her the hat as though he had just picked it up from - the sand. Then he looked at her. - </p> - <p> - “Miss,” he said, “I believe I'm the politest man - in this infernal colony; if I was rude to you just now I ask your pardon. - I'm afraid I pulled you about.” - </p> - <p> - “You saved me from drowning,” said Daireen. “If you had - not come to me I should be dead now.” - </p> - <p> - “I didn't do it for your sake,” said the man. “I - did it because that's my enemy”—he pointed to the sea—“and - I wouldn't lose a chance of having a shy at him. It's my - impression he's only second best this time again. Never mind. How do - you feel, miss?” - </p> - <p> - “Only a little tired,” said Daireen. “I don't - think I could walk back to the hotel.” - </p> - <p> - “You won't need,” said the man. “Here comes a Cape - cart and two ancient swells in it. If they don't give you a seat, I'll - smash the whole contrivance.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” cried Daireen joyfully; “it is papa—papa - himself.” - </p> - <p> - “Not the party with the brass buttons?” said the man. “All - right, I'll hail them.” - </p> - <p> - Colonel Gerald sprang from the Cape cart in which he was driving with the - commodore of the naval station. - </p> - <p> - “Good God, Daireen, what does this mean?” he cried, looking - from the girl to the man beside her. - </p> - <p> - But Daireen, regardless of her dripping condition, threw herself into his - arms, and the stranger turned away whistling. He reached the road and - shook his head confidentially at the commodore, who was standing beside - the Cape cart. - </p> - <p> - “Touching thing to be a father, eh, Admiral?” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Stop, sir,” said the commodore. “You must wait till - this is explained.” - </p> - <p> - “Must I?” said the man. “Who is there here that will - keep me?” - </p> - <p> - “What can I say to you, sir?” cried Colonel Gerald, coming up - and holding out his hand to the stranger. “I have no words to thank - you.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, as to that, General,” said the man, “it seems to - me the less that's said the better. Take my advice and get the lady - something to drink—anything that teetotallers won't allow is - safe to be wholesome.” - </p> - <p> - “Come to my house,” said the commodore. “Miss Gerald - will find everything there.” - </p> - <p> - “You bet you'll find something in the spirituous way at the - admiral's quarters, miss,” remarked the stranger, as Daireen - was helped into the vehicle. “No, thank you, General, I'll - walk to the hotel where I put up.” - </p> - <p> - “Pray let me call upon you before I leave,” said Colonel - Gerald. - </p> - <p> - “Delighted to see you, General; if you come within the next two - hours, I'll slip the tinsel off a bottle of Moët with you. Now, don't - wait here. If you had got a pearly stream of salt water running down your - spine you wouldn't wait; would they, miss? Aw revaw.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXVI. - </h2> - <p class="indent10"> - I shall, first asking your pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of my - sudden and more strange return. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - O limèd soul, that, struggling to be free, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Art more engaged. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be.—<i>Hamlet.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Q</span>UITE three hours - had passed before Colonel Gerald was able to return to the hotel. The - stranger was sitting in the coffee-room with a tumbler and a square bottle - of cognac in front of him as the colonel entered. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, General,” cried the stranger, “you are come. I was - sorry I said two hours, you know, because, firstly, I might have known - that at the admiral's quarters the young lady would get as many - doses as would make her fancy something was the matter with her; and, - secondly, because I didn't think that they would take three hours to - dry a suit of tweed like this. You see it, General; this blooming suit is - a proof of the low state of morality that exists in this colony. The man I - bought it from took an oath that it wouldn't shrink, and yet, just - look at it. It's a wicked world this we live in, General. I went to - bed while the suit was being dried, and I believe they kept the fire low - so that they may charge me with the bed. And how is the young lady?” - </p> - <p> - “I am happy to say that she has quite recovered from the effects of - her exhaustion and her wetting,” said Colonel Gerald. “Had you - not been near, and had you not had that brave heart you showed, my - daughter would have been lost. But I need not say anything to you—you - know how I feel.” - </p> - <p> - “We may take it for granted,” said the man. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing that either of us could say would make it plainer, at any - rate. You don't live in this city, General?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I live near Cape Town, where I am now returning with my - daughter,” said Colonel Gerald. - </p> - <p> - “That's queer,” said the man. “Here am I too not - living here and just waiting to get the post-cart to bring me to Cape - Town.” - </p> - <p> - “I need scarcely say that I should be delighted if you would accept - a seat with me,” remarked the colonel. - </p> - <p> - “Don't say that if there's not a seat to spare, General.” - </p> - <p> - “But, my dear sir, we have two seats to spare. Can I tell my man to - put your portmanteau in?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, if he can find it,” laughed the stranger. “Fact - is, General, I haven't any property here except this tweed suit two - sizes too small for me now. But these trousers have got pockets, and the - pockets hold a good many sovereigns without bursting. I mean to set up a - portmanteau in Cape Town. Yes, I'll take a seat with you so far.” - </p> - <p> - The stranger was scarcely the sort of man Colonel Gerald would have chosen - to accompany him under ordinary circumstances, but now he felt towards the - rough man who had saved the life of his daughter as he would towards a - brother. - </p> - <p> - The wagonette drove round to the commodore's house for Daireen, and - the stranger expressed very frankly the happiness he felt at finding her - nothing the worse for her accident. - </p> - <p> - And indeed she did not seem to have suffered greatly; she was a little - paler, and the commodore's people insisted on wrapping her up - elaborately. - </p> - <p> - “It was so very foolish of me,” she said to the stranger, when - they had passed out of Simon's Town and were going rapidly along the - road to Wynberg. “It was so very foolish indeed to sit down upon - that rock and forget all about the tide. I must have been there an hour.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, miss,” said the man, “I'll take my oath it - wasn't of your pa you were thinking all that time. Ah, these young - fellows have a lot to answer for.” - </p> - <p> - This was not very subtle humour, Colonel Gerald felt; he found himself - wishing that his daughter had owed her life to a more refined man; but on - the whole he was just as glad that a man of sensitiveness had not been in - the place of this coarse stranger upon that beach a few hours before. - </p> - <p> - “I don't think I am wrong in believing that you have travelled - a good deal,” said Colonel Gerald, in some anxiety lest the stranger - might pursue his course of humorous banter. - </p> - <p> - “Travelled?” said the stranger. “Perhaps I have. Yes, - sir, I have travelled, not excursionised. I've knocked about God's - footstool since I was a boy, and yet it seems to me that I'm only - beginning my travels. I've been——” - </p> - <p> - And the stranger continued telling of where he had been until the oak - avenue at Mowbray was reached. He talked very freshly and frankly of every - place both in the Northern and Southern hemispheres. The account of his - travels was very interesting, though perhaps to the colonel's - servant it was the most entertaining. - </p> - <p> - “I have taken it for granted that you have no engagement in Cape - Town,” said Colonel Gerald as he turned the horses down the avenue. - “We shall be dining in a short time, and I hope you will join us.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't want to intrude, General,” said the man. - “But I allow that I could dine heartily without going much farther. - As for having an appointment in Cape Town—I don't know a - single soul in the colony—not a soul, sir—unless—why, - hang it all, who's that standing on the walk in front of us?—I'm - a liar, General; I do know one man in the colony; there he stands, for if - that isn't Oswin Markham I'll eat him with relish.” - </p> - <p> - “It is indeed Markham,” said Colonel Gerald. “And you - know him?” - </p> - <p> - “Know him?” the stranger laughed. “Know him?” Then - as the wagonette pulled up beside where Markham was standing in front of - the house, the stranger leapt down, saying, as he clapped Oswin on the - shoulder, “The General asks me if I know you, old boy; answer for - me, will you?” - </p> - <p> - But Oswin Markham was staring blankly from the man to Daireen and her - father. - </p> - <p> - “You told me you were going to New York,” he said at last. - </p> - <p> - “And so I was when you packed me aboard the <i>Virginia</i> brig so - neatly at Natal, but the <i>Virginia</i> brig put into Simon's Bay - and cut her cable one night, leaving me ashore. It's Providence, - Oswin—Providence.” - </p> - <p> - Oswin had allowed his hand to be taken by the man, who was the same that - had spent the night with him in the hotel at Pietermaritzburg. Then he - turned as if from a fit of abstraction, to Daireen and the colonel. - </p> - <p> - “I beg your pardon a thousand times,” he said. “But this - meeting with Mr. Despard has quite startled me.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Despard,” said the colonel, “I must ever look on as - one of my best friends, though we met to-day for the first time. I owe him - a debt that I can never repay—my daughter's life.” - </p> - <p> - Oswin turned and grasped the hand of the man whom he had called Mr. - Despard, before they entered the house together. - </p> - <p> - Daireen went in just before Markham; they had not yet exchanged a - sentence, but when her father and Despard had entered one of the rooms, - she turned, saying: - </p> - <p> - “A month—a month yesterday.” - </p> - <p> - “More,” he answered; “it must be more.” - </p> - <p> - The girl laughed low as she went on to her room. But when she found - herself apart from every one, she did not laugh. She had her own - preservation from death to reflect upon, but it occupied her mind less - than the thought that came to her shaping itself into the words, “He - has returned.” - </p> - <p> - The man of whom she was thinking was standing pale and silent in a room - where much conversation was floating, for Mr. Harwood had driven out with - Markham from Cape Town, and he had a good deal to say on the Zulu - question, which was beginning to be no question. The Macnamara had also - come to pass the evening with Colonel Gerald, and he was not silent. Oswin - watched Despard and the hereditary monarch speaking together, and he saw - them shake hands. Harwood was in close conversation with Colonel Gerald, - but he was not so utterly absorbed in his subject but that he could notice - how Markham's eyes were fixed upon the stranger. The terms of a new - problem were suggesting themselves to Mr. Harwood. - </p> - <p> - Then Daireen entered the room, and greeted Mr. Harwood courteously—much - too courteously for his heart's desire. He did not feel so happy as - he should have done, when she laughed pleasantly and reminded him of her - prophecy as to his safe return. He felt as he had done on that morning - when he had said good-bye to her: his time had not yet come. But what was - delaying that hour he yearned for? She was now standing beside Markham, - looking up to his face as she spoke to him. She was not smiling at him. - What could these things mean? Harwood asked himself—Lottie Vincent's - spiteful remark with reference to Daireen at the lunch that had taken - place on the hillside in his absence—Oswin's remark about not - being strong enough to leave the associations of Cape Town—this - quiet meeting without smiles or any of the conventionalities of ordinary - acquaintance—what did all these mean? Mr. Harwood felt that he had - at last got before him the terms of a question the working out of which - was more interesting to him than any other that could be propounded. And - he knew also that this man Despard was an important auxiliary to its - satisfactory solution. - </p> - <p> - “Dove of Glenmara, let me look upon your sweet face again, and say - that you are not hurt,” cried The Macnamara, taking the girl by both - her hands and looking into her face. “Thank God you are left to be - the pride of the old country. We are not here to weep over this new - sorrow. What would life be worth to us if anything had happened to the - pulse of our hearts? Glenmara would be desolate and Slieve Docas would sit - in ashes.” - </p> - <p> - The Macnamara pressed his lips to the girl's forehead as a - condescending monarch embraces a favoured subject. - </p> - <p> - “Bravo, King! you'd make a fortune with that sort of sentiment - on the boards; you would, by heavens!” said Mr. Despard with an - unmodulated laugh. - </p> - <p> - The Macnamara seemed to take this testimony as a compliment, for he - smiled, though the remark did not appear to strike any one else as being - imbued with humour. Harwood looked at the man curiously; but Markham was - gazing in another direction without any expression upon his face. - </p> - <p> - In the course of the evening the Bishop of the Calapash Islands dropped - in. His lordship had taken a house in the neighbourhood for so long as he - would be remaining in the colony; and since he had had that interview with - Mrs. Crawford, his visits to his old friend Colonel Gerald were numerous - and unconventional. He, too, smiled upon Dairecn in his very pleasantest - manner, and after hearing from the colonel—who felt perhaps that - some little explanation of the stranger's presence might be - necessary—of Daireen's accident, the bishop spoke a few words - to Mr. Despard and shook hands with him—an honour which Mr. Despard - sustained without emotion. - </p> - <p> - In spite of these civilities, however, this evening was unlike any that - the colonel's friends had spent at the cottage. The bishop only - remained for about an hour, and Harwood and Markham soon afterwards took - their departure. - </p> - <p> - “I'll take a seat with you, Oswin, my boy,” said - Despard. “We'll be at the same hotel in Cape Town, and we may - as well all go together.” - </p> - <p> - And they did all go together. - </p> - <p> - “Fine fellow, the colonel, isn't he?” remarked Despard, - before they had got well out of the avenue. “I called him general on - chance when I saw him for the first time to-day—you're never - astray in beginning at general and working your way down, with these - military nobs. And the bishop is a fine old boy too—rather too much - palm-oil and glycerine about him, though—too smooth and shiny for my - taste. I expect he does a handsome trade amongst the Salamanders. A smart - bishop could make a fortune there, I know. And then the king—the - Irish king as he calls himself—well, maybe he's the best of - the lot.” - </p> - <p> - There did not seem to be anything in Mr. Despard's opening speech - that required an answer. There was a considerable pause before Harwood - remarked quietly: “By the way, Mr. Despard, I think I saw you some - time ago. I have a good recollection for faces.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you?” said Despard. “Where was it? At 'Frisco - or Fiji? South Carolina or South Australia?” - </p> - <p> - “I am not recalling the possibilities of such faraway memories,” - said Harwood. “But if I don't mistake, you were the person in - the audience at Pietermaritzburg who made some remark complimentary to - Markham.” - </p> - <p> - The man laughed. “You are right, mister. I only wonder I didn't - shout out something before, for I never was so taken aback as when I saw - him come out as that Prince. A shabby trick it was you played on me the - next morning, Oswin—I say it was infernally shabby. You know what he - did, mister: when I had got to the outside of more than one bottle of - Moët, and so wasn't very clear-headed, he packed me into one of the - carts, drove me to Durban before daylight, and sent me aboard the <i>Virginia</i> - brig that I had meant to leave. That wasn't like friendship, was it?” - </p> - <p> - But upon this delicate question Mr. Harwood did not think it prudent to - deliver an opinion. Markham himself was mute, yet this did not seem to - have a depressing effect upon Mr. Despard. He gave a <i>résumé</i> of the - most important events in the voyage of the <i>Virginia</i> brig, and - described very graphically how he had unfortunately become insensible to - the fact that the vessel was leaving Simon's Bay on the previous - morning; so that when he awoke, the <i>Virginia</i> brig was on her way to - New York city, while he was on a sofa in the hotel surrounded by empty - bottles. - </p> - <p> - When Markham was alone with this man in a room at the hotel at Cape Town, - Despard became even more talkative. - </p> - <p> - “By heavens, Oswin,” he said, “you have changed your - company a bit since you were amongst us; generals, bishops, and kings—kings, - by Jingo—seem to be your chums here. Well, don't you think - that I don't believe you to be right. You were never of our sort in - Australia—we all felt you to be above us, and treated you so—making - a pigeon of you now and again, but never looking on ourselves as your - equal. By heavens, I think now that I have got in with these people and - seem to get on so well with them, I'll turn over a new leaf.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you mean to stay here longer than this week?” asked Oswin. - </p> - <p> - “This week? I'll not leave for another month—another six - months, maybe. I've money, my boy, and—suppose we have - something to drink—something that will sparkle?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't mean to drink anything,” Oswin replied. - </p> - <p> - “You must have something,” Despard insisted. “You must - admit that though the colonel is a glorious old boy, he didn't do - the hospitable in the liquid way. But I'll keep in with the lot of - them. I'll go out to see the colonel and his pretty daughter now and - again. Ah, by George, that pretty daughter seems to have played the - mischief with some of the young fellows about here. 'Sir,' - says the king of Ireland to me, 'I fale more than I can till ye: the - swate girl ye saved is to be me sonn's broide.' This looked - well enough for the king, and we got very great friends, as you saw. But - then the bishop comes up to me and, says he, 'Sir, allow me to shake - you by the hand. You do not know how I feel towards that young lady who - owes her life to your bravery.' I looked at him seriously: 'Bishop,' - said I, 'I can't encourage this sort of thing. You might be - her father.' Well, my boy, you never saw anything so flustered as - that bishop became; it was more than a minute before he could tell me that - it was his son who had the tender heart about the girl. That bishop didn't - ask me to dine with him; though the king did, and I'm going out to - him to-morrow evening.” - </p> - <p> - “You are going to him?” said Markham. - </p> - <p> - “To be sure I am. He agreed with me about the colonel's - hospitality in the drink way. 'You'll find it different in my - house,' said the king; and I think you know, Oswin, that the king - and me have one point in common.” - </p> - <p> - “Good-night,” said Markham, going to the door. “No, I - told you I did not mean to drink anything.” - </p> - <p> - He left Mr. Despard on the sofa smoking the first of a box of cigars he - had just ordered. - </p> - <p> - “He's changed—that boy is,” said Despard. “He - wouldn't have gone out in that fashion six months ago. But what the - deuce has changed him? that's what I'd like to know. He wants - to get me away from here—that's plain—plain? by George, - it's ugly. But here I am settled for a few months at least if—hang - that waiter, is he never going to bring me that bottle of old Irish?” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXVII. - </h2> - <p> - Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play - upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of - my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my - compass....'S blood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a - pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you - cannot play upon me.—<i>Hamlet</i>. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>SWIN Markham sat - in his own room in the hotel. The window was open, and through it from the - street below came the usual sounds of Cape Town—terrible Dutch - mingling with Malay and dashed with Kafir. It was not the intensity of a - desire to listen to this polyglot mixture that caused Markham to go upon - the balcony and stand looking out to the night. - </p> - <p> - He reflected upon what had passed since he had been in this place a month - before. He had gone up to Natal, and in company of Harwood he had had a - brief hunting expedition. He had followed the spoor of the gemsbok over - veldt and through kloof, sleeping in the house of the hospitable boers - when chance offered; but all the time he had been possessed of one supreme - thought—one supreme hope that made his life seem a joyous thing—he - had looked forward to this day—the day when he would have returned, - when he would again be able to look into the face that moved like a - phantom before him wherever he went. And he had returned—for this—this - looking, not into her face, but into the street below him, while he - thought if it would not be better for him to step out beyond the balcony—out - into the blank that would follow his casting of himself down. - </p> - <p> - He came to the conclusion that it would not be better to step beyond the - balcony. A thought seemed to strike him as he stood out there. He returned - to his chamber and threw himself on his bed, but he did not remain passive - for long; once more he stepped into the air, and now he had need to wipe - his forehead with his handkerchief. - </p> - <p> - It was an hour afterwards that he undressed himself; but the bugle at the - barracks had sounded a good many times before he fell asleep. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Harwood, too, had an hour of reflection when he went to his room; but - his thoughts were hardly of the excitable type of Markham's; they - had, however, a definite result, which caused him to seek out Mr. Despard - in the morning. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Despard had just finished a light and salutary breakfast consisting of - a glass of French brandy in a bottle of soda-water, and he was smoking - another sample of that box of cigars on the balcony. - </p> - <p> - “Good-morning to you, mister,” he said, nodding as Harwood - came, as if by chance, beside him. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, how do you do?” said Harwood. “Enjoying your - morning smoke, I see. Well, I hope you are nothing the worse for your - plunge yesterday.” - </p> - <p> - “No, sir, nothing; I only hope that Missy out there will be as - sound. I don't think they insisted on her drinking enough - afterwards.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, perhaps not. Your friend Markham has not come down yet, they - tell me.” - </p> - <p> - “He was never given to running ties with the sun,” said Mr. - Despard. - </p> - <p> - “He told me you were a particular friend of his in Australia?” - continued Mr. Harwood. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, men very soon get to be friends out there; but Oswin and - myself were closer than brothers in every row and every lark.” - </p> - <p> - “Of which you had, no doubt, a good many? - </p> - <p> - “A good few, yes; a few that wouldn't do to be printed - specially as prizes for young ladies' boarding-schools—not but - what the young ladies would read them if they got the chance.” - </p> - <p> - “Few fellows would care to write their autobiographies and go into - the details of their life,” said Harwood. “I suppose you got - into trouble now and again?” - </p> - <p> - “Trouble? Well, yes, when the money ran short, and there was no - balance at the bank; that's real trouble, let me tell you.” - </p> - <p> - “It certainly is; but I mean, did you not sometimes need the - friendly offices of a lawyer after a wild few days?” - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” said Despard, throwing away the end of his cigar, - “if your idea of a wild few days is housebreaking or manslaughter, - it wasn't ours, I can tell you. No, my boy, we never took to - bushranging; and though I've had my turn with Derringer's - small cannons when I was at Chokeneck Gulch, it was only because it was - the custom of the country. No, sir; Oswin, though he seems to have turned - against me here, will still have my good word, for I swear to you he never - did anything that made the place too hot for him, though I don't - suppose that if he was in a competitive examination for a bishopric the - true account of his life in Melbourne would help him greatly.” - </p> - <p> - “There are none of us here who mean to be bishops,” laughed - Harwood. “But I understood from a few words Markham let fall that—well, - never mind, he is a right good fellow, as I found when we went up country - together a couple of weeks ago. By the way, do you mean to remain here - long, Mr. Despard?” - </p> - <p> - “Life is short, mister, and I've learned never to make - arrangements very far in advance. I've about eighty sovereigns with - me, and I'll stay here till they're spent.” - </p> - <p> - “Then your stay will be proportionate to your spending powers.” - </p> - <p> - “In an inverse ratio, as they used to say at school,” said - Despard. - </p> - <p> - When Mr. Harwood went into the room he reflected that on the whole he had - not gained much information from Mr. Despard; and Mr. Despard reflected - that on the whole Mr. Harwood had not got much information by his system - of leading questions. - </p> - <p> - About half an hour afterwards Markham came out upon the balcony, and gave - a little unaccountable start on seeing its sole occupant. - </p> - <p> - “Hallo, my boy! have you turned up at last?” cried Despard. - “Our good old Calapash friend will tell you that unless you get up - with the lark you'll never do anything in the world. You should have - been here a short time ago to witness the hydraulic experiments.” - </p> - <p> - “The what?” said Markham. - </p> - <p> - “Hydraulic experiments. The patent pump of the <i>Dominant Trumpeter</i> - was being tested upon me. Experiments failed, not through any incapacity - of the pump, but through the contents of the reservoir worked upon not - running free enough in the right direction.” - </p> - <p> - “Was Mr. Harwood here?” - </p> - <p> - “He was, my boy. And he wanted to know all about how we lived in - Melbourne.” - </p> - <p> - “And you told him——” - </p> - <p> - “To get up a little earlier in the morning when he wants to try his - pumping apparatus. But what made you give that start? Don't you know - that all I could tell would be some of our old larks, and he wouldn't - have thought anything the worse of you on account of them? Hang it all, - you don't mean to say you're going into holy orders, that you - mind having any of the old times brought back? If you do, I'm afraid - that it will be awkward for you if I talk in my ordinary way. I won't - bind myself not to tell as many of our larks as chime in with the general - conversation. I only object on principle to be pumped.” - </p> - <p> - “Talk away,” said Oswin spasmodically. “Tell of all our - larks. How could I be affected by anything you may tell of them?” - </p> - <p> - “Bravo! That's what I say. Larks are larks. There was no - manslaughter nor murder. No, there was no murder.” - </p> - <p> - “No, there was no murder,” said Markham. - </p> - <p> - The other burst into a laugh that startled a Malay in the street below. - </p> - <p> - “By heavens, from the way you said that one would fancy there had - been a murder,” he cried. - </p> - <p> - Then there was a long pause, which was broken by Markham. - </p> - <p> - “You still intend to go out to dine with that man you met yesterday?” - he said. - </p> - <p> - “Don't call him a man, Oswin; you wouldn't call a bishop - a man, and why call a king one. Yes, I have ordered a horse that is said - to know the way across those Flats without a pocket compass.” - </p> - <p> - “Where did you say the house was?” - </p> - <p> - “It's near a place called Rondebosch. I remember the locality - well, though it's ten years since I was there. The shortest way back - is through a pine-wood at the far end of The Flats—you know that - place, of course.” - </p> - <p> - “I know The Flats. And you mean to come through the pine-wood?” - </p> - <p> - “I do mean it. It's a nasty place to ride through, but the - horse always goes right in a case like that, and I'll give him his - head.” - </p> - <p> - “Take care that you have your own at that time,” said Markham. - “The house of the Irishman is not like Colonel Gerald's.” - </p> - <p> - “I hope not, for a more thirsty evening I never spent than at your - friend's cottage. The good society hardly made up for the want of - drink. It put me in mind of the story of the man that found the pearls - when he was starving in the desert. What are bishops and kings to a fellow - if he is thirsty?” - </p> - <p> - “You will leave the house to return here between eleven and twelve, - I suppose?” said Oswin. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I should say that about eleven will see me on my way.” - </p> - <p> - “And you will go through the pine-wood?” - </p> - <p> - “I will, my boy, and across The Flats until I pass the little river—it's - there still, I suppose. And now suppose I buy you a drink?” - </p> - <p> - But Oswin Markham declined to be the object of such a purchase. He went - back to his own room, and threw himself on his bed, where he remained for - more than an hour. Then he rose and wiped his forehead. - </p> - <p> - He pulled down some books that he had bought, and tried to read bits of - one or two. He sat diligently down as if he meant to go through a day's - reading, but he did not appear to be in the mood for applying himself to - anything. He threw the books aside and turned over some newspapers; but - these did not seem to engross him any more than the books had done. He lay - back in his chair, and after a while his restlessness subsided: he had - fallen asleep. - </p> - <p> - It was the afternoon before he awoke with a sudden start. He heard the - sound of voices in the street below his window. He went forward, and, - looking out, was just in time to see Harry Despard mounting his horse at - the hotel door. - </p> - <p> - “I will be back about midnight,” he said to the porter of the - hotel, and then he trotted off. - </p> - <p> - Markham heard the sound of the horse's hoofs die away on the street, - and he repeated the man's words: “About midnight.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXVIII. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - To desperation turn my trust and hope. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - What if this cursed hand - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Were thicker than itself with brother's blood, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - To wash it white as snow? - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - I'll have prepared him - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - A chalice for the nonce whereon but sipping - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - ... he... - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Chaunted snatches of old tunes, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - As one incapable. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The drink—the drink—... the foul practice - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Hath turned itself on me; lo, here I lie... - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - I can no more: the King—the King's to blame.—<i>Hamlet</i>. - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>SWIN Markham dined - at the hotel late in the evening, and when he was in the act Harwood came - into the room dressed for a dinner-party at Greenpoint to which he had - been invited. - </p> - <p> - “Your friend Mr. Despard is not here?” said Harwood, looking - around the room. “I wanted to see him for a moment to give him a few - words of advice that may be useful to him. I wish to goodness you would - speak to him, Markham; he has been swaggering about in a senseless way, - talking of having his pockets full of sovereigns, and in the hearing of - every stranger that comes into the hotel. In the bar a few hours ago he - repeated his boast to the Malay who brought him his horse. Now, for Heaven's - sake, tell him that unless he wishes particularly to have a bullet in his - head or a khris in his body some of these nights, he had better hold his - tongue about his wealth—that is what I meant to say to him.” - </p> - <p> - “And you are right,” cried Oswin, starting up suddenly. - “He has been talking in the hearing of men who would do anything for - the sake of a few sovereigns. What more likely than that some of them - should follow him and knock him down? That will be his end, Harwood.” - </p> - <p> - “It need not be,” replied Harwood. “If you caution him, - he will most likely regard what you say to him.” - </p> - <p> - “I will caution him—if I see him again,” said Markham; - then Harwood left the room, and Markham sat down again, but he did not - continue his dinner. He sat there staring at his plate. “What more - likely?” he muttered. “What more likely than that he should be - followed and murdered by some of these men? If his body should be found - with his pockets empty, no one could doubt it.” - </p> - <p> - He sat there for a considerable time—until the streets had become - dark; then he rose and went up to his own room for a while, and finally he - put on his hat and left the hotel. - </p> - <p> - He looked at his watch as he walked to the railway station, and saw that - he would be just in time to catch a train leaving for Wynberg. He took a - ticket for the station on the Cape Town side of Mowbray, where he got out. - </p> - <p> - He walked from the station to the road and again looked at his watch: it - was not yet nine o'clock; and then he strolled aside upon a little - foot-track that led up the lower slopes of the Peak above Mowbray. The - night was silent and moonless. Upon the road only at intervals came the - rumbling of bullock wagons and the shouts of the Kafir drivers. The hill - above him was sombre and untouched by any glance of light, and no breeze - stirred up the scents of the heath. He walked on in the silence until he - had come to the ravine of silver firs. He passed along the track at the - edge and was soon at the spot where he had sat at the feet of Daireen a - month before. He threw himself down on the short coarse grass just as he - had done then, and every moment of the hour they had passed together came - back to him. Every word that had been spoken, every thought that had - expressed itself upon that lovely face which the delicate sunset light had - touched—all returned to him. - </p> - <p> - What had he said to her? That the past life he had lived was blotted out - from his mind? Yes, he had tried to make himself believe that; but now how - Fate had mocked him! He had been bitterly forced to acknowledge that the - past was a part of the present. His week so full of bitterest suffering - had not formed a dividing line between the two lives he fancied might be - his. - </p> - <p> - “Is this the justice of God?” he cried out now to the stars, - clasping his hands in agony above his head. “It is unjust. My life - would have been pure and good now, if I had been granted my right of - forgetfulness. But I have been made the plaything of God.” He stood - with his hands clasped on his head for long. Then he gave a laugh. “Bah!” - he said; “man is master of his fate. I shall do myself the justice - that God has denied me.” - </p> - <p> - He came down from that solemn mount, and crossed he road at a nearer point - than the Mowbray avenue. - </p> - <p> - He soon found himself by the brink of that little river which flowed past - Rondebosch and Mowbray. He got beneath the trees that bordered its banks, - and stood for a long time in the dead silence of the night. The mighty - dog-lilies were like pictures beneath him; and only now and again came - some of those mysterious sounds of night—the rustling of certain - leaves when all the remainder were motionless, the winnowing of the wings - of some night creature whose form remained invisible, the sudden stirring - of ripples upon the river without a cause being apparent—the man - standing there heard all, and all appeared mysterious to him. He wondered - how he could have so often been by night in places like this, without - noticing how mysterious the silence was—how mysterious the strange - sounds. - </p> - <p> - He walked along by the bank of the slow river, until he was just opposite - Mowbray. A little bridge with rustic rails was, he knew, at hand, by which - he would cross the stream—for he must cross it. But before he had - reached it, he heard a sound. He paused. Could it be possible that it was - the sound of a horse's hoofs? There he waited until something white - passed from under the trees and reached the bridge, standing between him - and the other side of the river—something that barred his way. He - leant against the tree nearest to him, for he seemed to be falling to the - ground, and then through the stillness of the night the voice of Daireen - came singing a snatch of song—his song. She was on the little bridge - and leaning upon the rail. In a few moments she stood upright, and - listlessly walked under the trees where he was standing, though she could - not see him. - </p> - <p> - “Daireen,” he said gently, so that she might not be startled; - and she was not startled, she only walked backwards a few steps until she - was again at the bridge. - </p> - <p> - “Did any one speak?” she said almost in a whisper. And then he - stood before her while she laughed with happiness. - </p> - <p> - “Why do you stand there?” he said in a tone of wonder. “What - was it sent you to stand there between me and the other side of that - river?” - </p> - <p> - “I said to papa that I would wait for him here. He went to see Major - Crawford part of the way to the house where the Crawfords are staying; but - what can be keeping him from returning I don't know. I promised not - to go farther than the avenue, and I have just been here a minute.” - </p> - <p> - He looked at her standing there before him. “Oh God! oh God!” - he said, as he reflected upon what his own thoughts had been a moment - before. “Daireen, you are an angel of God—that angel which - stood between the living and the dead. Stay near me. Oh, child! what do I - not owe to you? my life—the peace of my soul for ever and ever. And - yet—must we speak no word of love together, Daireen?” - </p> - <p> - “Not one—here,” she said. “Not one—only—ah, - my love, my love, why should we speak of it? It is all my life—I - breathe it—I think it—it is myself.” - </p> - <p> - He looked at her and laughed. “This moment is ours,” he said - with tremulous passion. “God cannot pluck it from us. It is an - immortal moment, if our souls are immortal. Child, can God take you away - from me before I have kissed you on the mouth?” He held her face - between his hands and kissed her. “Darling, I have taken your white - soul into mine,” he said. - </p> - <p> - Then they stood apart on that bridge. - </p> - <p> - “And now,” she said, “you must never frighten me with - your strange words again. I do not know what you mean sometimes, but then - that is because I don't know very much. I feel that you are good and - true, and I have trusted you.” - </p> - <p> - “I will be true to you,” he said gently. “I will die - loving you better than any hope man has of heaven. Daireen, never dream, - whatever may happen, that I shall not love you while my soul lives.” - </p> - <p> - “I will believe you,” she said; and then voices were heard - coming down the lane of aloes at the other side of the river—voices - and the sound of a horse's hoofs. Colonel Gerald and Major Crawford - were coming along leading a horse, across whose saddle lay a black mass. - Oswin Markham gave a start. Then Daireen's father hastened forward - to where she was standing. - </p> - <p> - “Child,” he said quickly, “go back—go back to the - house. I will come to you in a few minutes.” - </p> - <p> - “What is the matter, papa?” she asked. “No one is hurt?—Major - Crawford is not hurt?” - </p> - <p> - “No, no, he is here; but go, Daireen—go at once.” - </p> - <p> - She turned and went up the avenue without a word. But she saw that Oswin - was not looking at her—that he was grasping the rail of the bridge - while he gazed to where the horse with its burden stood a few yards away - among the aloes. - </p> - <p> - “I am glad you chance to be here, Markham,” said Colonel - Gerald hurriedly. “Something has happened—that man Despard——” - </p> - <p> - “Not dead—not murdered!” gasped Oswin, clutching the - rail with both hands. - </p> - <p> - “Murdered? no; how could he be murdered? he must have fallen from - his horse among the trees.” - </p> - <p> - “And he is dead—he is dead?” - </p> - <p> - “Calm yourself, Markham,” said the colonel; “he is not - dead.” - </p> - <p> - “Not in that sense, my boy,” laughed Major Crawford. “By - gad, if we could leave the brute up to the neck in the river here for a - few hours I fancy he would be treated properly. Hold him steady, Markham.” - </p> - <p> - Oswin put his hand mechanically to the feet of the man who was lying - helplessly across the saddle. - </p> - <p> - “Not dead, not dead,” he whispered. - </p> - <p> - “Only dead drunk, unless his skull is fractured, my boy,” - laughed the major. “We'll take him to the stables, of course, - George?” - </p> - <p> - “No, no, to the house,” said Colonel Gerald. - </p> - <p> - “Run on and get the key of the stables, George,” said the - major authoritatively. “Don't you suppose in any way that your - house is to be turned into an hospital for dipsomaniacs. Think of the - child.” - </p> - <p> - Colonel Gerald made a little pause, and then hastened forward to awaken - the groom to get the key of the stables, which were some distance from the - cottage. - </p> - <p> - “By gad, Markham, I'd like to spill the brute into that pond,” - whispered the major to Oswin, as they waited for the colonel's - return. - </p> - <p> - “How did you find him? Did you see any accident?” asked Oswin. - </p> - <p> - “We met the horse trotting quietly along the avenue without a rider, - and when we went on among the trees we found the fellow lying helpless. - George said he was killed, but I knew better. Irish whisky, my boy, was - what brought him down, and you will find that I am right.” - </p> - <p> - They let the man slide from the saddle upon a heap of straw when the - stable door was opened by the half-dressed groom. - </p> - <p> - “Not dead, Jack?” said Colonel Gerald as a lantern was held to - the man's face. Only the major was looking at the man; Markham could - not trust himself even to glance towards him. - </p> - <p> - “Dead?” said the major. “Why, since we have laid him - down I have heard him frame three distinct oaths. Have you a bucket of - water handy, my good man? No, it needn't be particularly clean. Ah, - that will do. Now, if you don't hear a choice selection of colonial - blasphemy, he's dead and, by gad, sir, so am I.” - </p> - <p> - The major's extensive experience of the treatment of colonial - complaints had, as the result proved, led him to form a correct if - somewhat hasty diagnosis of the present case. Not more than a gallon of - the water had been thrown upon the man before he recovered sufficient - consciousness to allow of his expressing himself with freedom on the - subject of his treatment. - </p> - <p> - “I told you so,” chuckled the major. “Fill the bucket - again, my man.” - </p> - <p> - Colonel Gerald could only laugh now that his fears had been dispelled. He - hastened to the house to tell Daireen that there was no cause for alarm. - </p> - <p> - By the time the second bucketful had been applied, in pursuance of the - major's artless system of resuscitation, Despard was sitting up - talking of the oppressions under which a certain nation was groaning. He - was sympathetic and humorous in turn; weeping after particular broken - sentences, and chuckling with laughter after other parts of his speech. - </p> - <p> - “The Irish eloquence and the Irish whisky have run neck and neck for - the fellow's soul,” said the major. “If we hadn't - picked him up he would be in a different state now. Are you going back to - Cape Town to-night, Markham?” - </p> - <p> - “I am,” said Oswin. - </p> - <p> - “That's lucky. You mustn't let George have his way in - this matter. This brute would stay in the cottage up there for a month.” - </p> - <p> - “He must not do that,” cried Markham eagerly. - </p> - <p> - “No, my boy; so you will drive with him in the Cape cart to the - hotel. He will give you no trouble if you lay him across the floor and - keep your feet well down upon his chest. Put one of the horses in, my man,” - continued the major, turning to the groom. “You will drive in with - Mr. Markham, and bring the cart back.” - </p> - <p> - Before Colonel Gerald had returned from the house a horse was harnessed to - the Cape cart, Despard had been lifted up and placed in an easy attitude - against one of the seats. And only a feeble protest was offered by the - colonel. - </p> - <p> - “My dear Markham,” he said, “it was very lucky you were - passing where my daughter saw you. You know this man Despard—how - could I have him in my house?” - </p> - <p> - “In your house!” cried Markham. “Thank God I was here to - prevent that.” - </p> - <p> - The Cape cart was already upon the avenue and the lamps were lighted. But - a little qualm seemed to come to the colonel. - </p> - <p> - “Are you sure he is not injured—that he has quite recovered - from any possible effects?” he said. - </p> - <p> - Then came the husky voice of the man. - </p> - <p> - “Go'night, king, go'night. I'm alright—horse - know's way. We're tram'led on, king—'pressed - people—but wormil turn—wormil turn—never mind—Go - save Ireland—green flag litters o'er us—tread th' - land that bore us—go'night.” - </p> - <p> - The cart was in motion before the man's words had ceased. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXIX. - </h2> - <p class="indent20"> - Look you lay home to him: - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - What to ourselves in passion we propose, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The passion ending, doth the purpose lose. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - I must leave thee, love... - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And thou shalt live in this fair world behind, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Honour'd, belov'd, and haply one as kind - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - For husband shalt thou— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife.—<i>Hamlet</i>. - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>SWIN Markham lay - awake nearly all that night after he had reached the hotel. His thoughts - were not of that even nature whose proper sequence is sleep. He thought of - all that had passed since he had left the room he was lying in now. What - had been on his mind on leaving this room—what had his determination - been? - </p> - <p> - “For her,” he said; “for her. It would have been for - her. God keep me—God pity me!” - </p> - <p> - The morning came with the sound of marching soldiers in the street below; - with the cry of bullock-wagon-drivers and the rattle of the rude carts; - with the morning and the sounds of life—the breaking of the deadly - silence of the night—sleep came to the man. - </p> - <p> - It was almost midday before he awoke, and for some time after opening his - eyes he was powerless to recollect anything that had happened during the - night; his awakening now was as his return to consciousness on board the - <i>Cardwell Castle</i>,—a great blank seemed to have taken place in - his life—the time of unconsciousness was a gulf that all his efforts - of memory could not at first bridge. - </p> - <p> - He looked around the room, and his first consciousness was the - recollection of what his thoughts of the previous evening had been when he - had slept in the chair before the window and had awakened to see Despard - ride away. He failed at once to remember anything of the interval of - night; only with that one recollection burning on his brain he looked at - his right hand. - </p> - <p> - In a short time he remembered everything. He knew that Despard was in the - hotel. He dressed himself and went downstairs, and found Harwood in the - coffee-room, reading sundry documents with as anxious an expression of - countenance as a special correspondent ever allows himself to assume. - </p> - <p> - “What is the news?” Markham asked, feeling certain that - something unusual had either taken place or was seen by the prophetical - vision of Harwood to be looming in the future. - </p> - <p> - “War,” said Harwood, looking up. “War, Markham. I should - never have left Natal. They have been working up to the point for the last - few months, as I saw; but now there is no hope for a peaceful settlement.” - </p> - <p> - “The Zulu chief is not likely to come to terms now?” said - Markham. - </p> - <p> - “Impossible,” replied the other. “Quite impossible. In a - few days there will, no doubt, be a call for volunteers.” - </p> - <p> - “For volunteers?” Markham repeated. “You will go up - country at once, I suppose?” he added. - </p> - <p> - “Not quite as a volunteer, but as soon as I receive my letters by - the mail that arrives in a few days, I shall be off to Durban, at any - rate.” - </p> - <p> - “And you will be glad of it, no doubt. You told me you liked doing - war-correspondence.” - </p> - <p> - “Did I?” said Harwood; and after a little pause he added - slowly: “It's a tiring life this I have been leading for the - past fifteen years, Markham. I seem to have cut myself off from the - sympathies of life. I seem to have been only a looker-on in the great - struggles—the great pleasures—of life. I am supposed to have - no more sympathies than Babbage's calculator that records certain - facts without emotion, and I fancied I had schooled myself into this cold - apathy in looking at things; but I don't think I have succeeded in - cutting myself off from all sympathies. No, I shall not be glad of this - war. Never mind. By the way, are you going out to Dr. Glaston's - to-night?” - </p> - <p> - “I have got a card for his dinner, but I cannot tell what I may do. - I am not feeling myself, just now.” - </p> - <p> - “You certainly don't look yourself, Markham. You are haggard, - and as pale as if you had not got any sleep for nights. You want the - constitution of your friend Mr. Despard, who is breakfasting in the bar.” - </p> - <p> - “What, is it possible he is out of his room?” cried Markham, - in surprise. - </p> - <p> - “Why, he was waiting here an hour ago when I came down, and in the - meantime he had been buying a suit of garments, he said, that gallant - check of his having come to grief through the night.” - </p> - <p> - Harwood spoke the words at the door and then he left the room. - </p> - <p> - Oswin was not for long left in solitary occupation, however, for in a few - moments the door was flung open, and Despard entered with a half-empty - tumbler in his hand. He came forward with a little chuckling laugh and - stood in front of Oswin without speaking. He looked with his blood-shot - eyes into Oswin's cold pale face, and then burst into a laugh so - hearty that he was compelled to leave the tumbler upon the table, not - having sufficient confidence in his ability to grasp it under the - influence of his excitement. Then he tapped Markham on the shoulder, - crying: - </p> - <p> - “Well, old boy, have you got over that lark of last night? Like the - old times, wasn't it? You did the fatherly by me, I believe, though - hang me if I remember what happened after I had drunk the last glass of - old Irish with our friend the king. How the deuce did I get in with the - teetotal colonel who, the boots has been telling me, lent me his cart? - That's what I should like to know. And where were you, my boy, all - the night?” - </p> - <p> - “Despard,” said Markham, “I have borne with your brutal - insults long enough. I will not bear them any longer. When you have so - disgraced both yourself and me as you did last night, it is time to bring - matters to a climax. I cannot submit to have you thrust yourself upon my - friends as you have done. You behaved like a brute.” - </p> - <p> - Despard seated himself and wiped his eyes. “I did behave like a - brute,” he said. “I always do, I know—and you know too, - Oswin. Never mind. Tell me what you want—what am I to do?” - </p> - <p> - “You must leave the colony,” said Oswin quickly, almost - eagerly. “I will give you money, and a ticket to England to-day. You - must leave this place at once.” - </p> - <p> - “And so I will—so I will,” said the man from behind his - handkerchief. “Yes, yes, Oswin, I'll leave the colony—I - will—when I become a teetotaller.” He took down his - handkerchief, and put it into his pocket with a hoarse laugh. “Come, - my boy,” he said in his usual voice, “come; we've had - quite enough of that sort of bullying. Don't think you're - talking to a boy, Master Oswin. Who looks on a man as anything the worse - for getting drunk now and again? You don't; you can't afford - to. How often have I not helped you as you helped me? Tell me that.” - </p> - <p> - “In the past—the accursed past,” said Oswin, “I - may have made myself a fool—yes, I did, but God knows that I have - suffered for it. Now all is changed. I was willing to tolerate you near me - since we met this time, hoping that you would think fit, when you were in - a new place and amongst new people, to change your way of life. But last - night showed me that I was mistaken. You can never be received at Colonel - Gerald's again.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed?” said the man. “You should break the news - gently to a fellow. You might have thrown me into a fit by coming down - like that. Hark you here, Mr. Markham. I know jolly well that I will be - received there and welcomed too. I'll be received everywhere as well - as you, and hang me, if I don't go everywhere. These people are my - friends as well as yours. I've done more for them than ever you did, - and they know that.” - </p> - <p> - “Fool, fool!” said Oswin bitterly. - </p> - <p> - “We'll see who's the fool, my boy. I know my advantage, - don't you be afraid. The Irish king has a son, hasn't he? - well, I was welcome with him last night. The Lord Bishop of Calapash has - another blooming male offspring, and though he hasn't given me an - invite to his dinner this evening, yet, hang me, if he wouldn't hug - me if I went with the rest of you swells. Hang me, if I don't try it - at any rate—it will be a lark at least. Dine with a bishop—by - heaven, sir, it would be a joke—I'll go, oh, Lord, Lord!” - Oswin stood motionless looking at him. “Yes,” continued - Despard, “I'll have a jolly hour with his lordship the bishop. - I'll fill up my glass as I did last night, and we'll drink the - same toast together—we'll drink to the health of the Snowdrop - of Glenmara, as the king called her when he was very drunk; we'll - drink to the fair Daireen. Hallo, keep your hands off!—Curse you, - you're choking me! There!” Oswin, before the girl's name - had more than passed the man's lips, had sprung forward and clutched - him by the throat; only by a violent effort was he cast off, and now both - men stood trembling with passion face to face. - </p> - <p> - “What the deuce do you mean by this sort of treatment?” cried - Despard. - </p> - <p> - “Despard,” said Oswin slowly, “you know me a little, I - think. I tell you if you ever speak that name again in my presence you - will repent it. You know me from past experience, and I have not utterly - changed.” - </p> - <p> - The man looked at him with an expression that amounted to wonderment upon - his face. Then he threw himself back in his chair, and an uncontrollable - fit of laughter seized him. He lay back and almost yelled with his insane - laughter. When he had recovered himself and had wiped the tears from his - eyes, he saw Oswin was gone. And this fact threw him into another - convulsive fit. It was a long time before he was able to straighten his - collar and go to the bar for a glass of French brandy. - </p> - <p> - The last half-hour had made Oswin Markham very pale. He had eaten no - breakfast, and he was reminded of this by the servant to whom he had given - directions to have his horse brought to the door. - </p> - <p> - “No,” he said, “I have not eaten anything. Get the horse - brought round quickly, like a good fellow.” - </p> - <p> - He stood erect in the doorway until he heard the sound of hoofs. Then he - went down the steps and mounted, turning his horse's head towards - Wynberg. He galloped along the red road at the base of the hill, and only - once he looked up, saying, “For the last time—the last.” - </p> - <p> - He reached the avenue at Mowbray and dismounted, throwing the bridle over - his arm as he walked slowly between the rows of giant aloes. In another - moment he came in sight of the Dutch cottage. He paused under one of the - Australian oaks, and looked towards the house. “Oh, God, God, pity - me!” he cried in agony so intense that it could not relieve itself - by any movement or the least motion. - </p> - <p> - He threw the bridle over a low branch and walked up to the house. His step - was heard. She stood before him in the hall—white and flushed in - turn as he went towards her. He was not flushed; he was still deadly - white. He had startled her, he knew, for the hand she gave him was - trembling like a dove's bosom. - </p> - <p> - “Papa is gone part of the way back to Simon's Town with the - commodore who was with us this morning,” she said. “But you - will come in and wait, will you not?” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot,” he said. “I cannot trust myself to go in—even - to look at you, Daireen.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, God!” she said, “you are ill—your face—your - voice——” - </p> - <p> - “I am not ill, Daireen. I have an hour of strength—such - strength as is given to men when they look at Death in the face and are - not moved at all. I kissed you last night——” - </p> - <p> - “And you will now,” she said, clasping his arm tenderly. - “Dearest, do not speak so terribly—do not look so terrible—so - like—ah, that night when you looked up to me from the water.” - </p> - <p> - “Daireen, why did I do that? Why did you pluck me from that death to - give me this agony of life—to give yourself all the bitterness that - can come to any soul? Daireen, I kissed you only once, and I can never - kiss you again. I cannot be false to you any longer after having touched - your pure spirit. I have been false to you—false, not by my will—but - because to me God denied what He gave to others—others to whom His - gift was an agony—that divine power to begin life anew. My past - still clings to me, Daireen—it is not past—it is about and - around me still—it is the gulf that separates us, Daireen.” - </p> - <p> - “Separates us?” she said blankly, looking at him. - </p> - <p> - “Separates us,” he repeated, “as heaven and hell are - separated. We have been the toys—the playthings, of Fate. If you had - not looked out of your cabin that night, we should both be happy now. And - then how was it we came to love each other and to know it to be love? I - struggled against it, but I was as a feather upon the wind. Ah, God has - given us this agony of love, for I am here to look on you for the last - time—to beseech of you to hate me, and to go away knowing that you - love me.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no, not to go away—anything but that. Tell me all—I - can forgive all.” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot bring my lips to frame my curse,” he said after a - little pause. “But you shall hear it, and, Daireen, pity me as you - pitied me when I looked to God for hope and found none. Child—give - me your eyes for the last time.” - </p> - <p> - She held him clasped with her white hands, and he saw that her passion - made her incapable of understanding his words. She looked up to him - whispering, “The last time—no, no—not the last time—not - the last.” - </p> - <p> - She was in his arms. He looked down upon her face, but he did not kiss it. - He clenched his teeth as he unwound her arms from him. - </p> - <p> - “One word may undo the curse that I have bound about your life,” - he said. “Take the word, Daireen—the blessed word for you and - me—<i>Forget</i>. Take it—it is my last blessing.” - </p> - <p> - She was standing before him. She saw his face there, and she gave a cry, - covering her own face with her hands, for the face she saw was that which - had looked up to her from the black waters. - </p> - <p> - Was he gone? - </p> - <p> - From the river bank came the sounds of the native women, from the garden - the hum of insects, and from the road the echo of a horse's hoofs - passing gradually away. - </p> - <p> - Was it a dream—not only this scene of broad motionless leaves, and - these sounds she heard, but all the past months of her life? - </p> - <p> - Hours went by leaving her motionless in that seat, and then came the sound - of a horse—she sprang up. He was returning—it was a dream that - had given her this agony of parting. - </p> - <p> - “Daireen, child, what is the matter?” asked her father, whose - horse it was she had heard. - </p> - <p> - She looked up to his face. - </p> - <p> - “Papa,” she said very gently, “it is over—all—all - over—for ever—I have only you now.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear little Dolly, tell me all that troubles you.” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing troubles me now, papa. I have you near me, and I do not - mind anything else.” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me all, Daireen.” - </p> - <p> - “I thought I loved some one else, papa—Oswin—Oswin - Markham. But he is gone now, and I know you are with me. You will always - be with me.” - </p> - <p> - “My poor little Dolly,” said Colonel Gerald, “did he - tell you that he loved you?” - </p> - <p> - “He did, papa; but you must ask me no more. I shall never see him - again!” - </p> - <p> - “Perfectly charming!” said Mrs. Crawford, standing at the - door. “The prettiest picture I have seen for a long time—father - and daughter in each other's arms. But, my dear George, are you not - yet dressed for the bishop's dinner? Daireen, my child, did you not - say you would be ready when I would call for you? I am quite disappointed, - and I would be angry only you look perfectly lovely this evening—like - a beautiful lily. The dear bishop will be so charmed, for you are one of - his favourites. Now do make haste, and I entreat of you to be particular - with your shades of gray.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XL. - </h2> - <p class="indent20"> - ... A list of... resolutes - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - For food and diet, to some enterprise - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - That hath a stomach in't. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - My news shall be the fruit to that great feast. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Why, let the stricken deer go weep, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - The hart ungalléd play; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - For some must watch, while some must sleep; - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Thus runs the world away.—<i>Hamlet</i>. - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Bishop of the - Calapash Islands and Metropolitan of the Salamander Archipelago was - smiling very tranquilly upon his guests as they arrived at his house, - which was about two miles from Mowbray. But the son of the bishop was not - smiling—he, in fact, seldom smiled; there was a certain breadth of - expression associated with such a manifestation of feeling that was - inconsistent with his ideas of subtlety of suggestion. He was now - endeavouring to place his father's guests at ease by looking only - slightly bored by their presence, giving them to understand that he would - endure them around him for his father's sake, so that there should - be no need for them to be at all anxious on his account. A dinnerparty in - a colony was hardly that sort of social demonstration which Mr. Glaston - would be inclined to look forward to with any intensity of feeling; but - the bishop, having a number of friends at the Cape, including a lady who - was capable of imparting some very excellent advice on many social - matters, had felt it to be a necessity to give this little dinnerparty, - and his son had only offered such a protest against it as satisfied his - own conscience and prevented the possibility of his being consumed for - days after with a gnawing remorse. - </p> - <p> - The bishop had his own ideas of entertaining his guests—a matter - which his son brought under his consideration after the invitations had - been issued. - </p> - <p> - “There is not such a thing as a rising tenor in the colony, I am - sure,” said Mr. Glaston, whose experience of perfect social - entertainment was limited to that afforded by London drawing-rooms. - “If we had a rising tenor, there would be no difficulty about these - people.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, no, I suppose not,” said the bishop. “But I was - thinking, Algernon, that if you would allow your pictures to be hung for - the evening, and explain them, you know, it would be interesting.” - </p> - <p> - “What, by lamplight? They are not drop-scenes of a theatre, let me - remind you.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no; but you see your theories of explanation would be - understood by our good friends as well by lamplight as by daylight, and I - am sure every one would be greatly interested.” Mr. Glaston promised - his father to think over the matter, and his father expressed his - gratitude for this concession. “And as for myself,” continued - the bishop, giving his hands the least little rub together, “I would - suggest reading a few notes on a most important subject, to which I have - devoted some attention lately. My notes I would propose heading 'Observations - on Phenomena of Automatic Cerebration amongst some of the Cannibal Tribes - of the Salamander Archipelago.' I have some excellent specimens of - skulls illustrative of the subject.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Glaston looked at his father for a considerable time without speaking; - at last he said quietly, “I think I had better show my pictures.” - </p> - <p> - “And my paper—my notes?” - </p> - <p> - “Impossible,” said the young man, rising. “Utterly - Impossible;” and he left the room. - </p> - <p> - The bishop felt slightly hurt by his son's manner. He had treasured - up his notes on the important observations he had made in an interesting - part of his diocese, and he had looked forward with anxiety to a moment - when he could reveal the result of his labours to the world, and yet his - son had, when the opportunity presented itself, declared the revelation - impossible. The bishop felt slightly hurt. - </p> - <p> - Now, however, he had got over his grievance, and he was able to smile as - usual upon each of his guests. - </p> - <p> - The dinner-party was small and select. There were two judges present, one - of whom brought his wife and a daughter. Then there were two members of - the Legislative Council, one with a son, the other with a daughter; a - clergyman who had attained to the dizzy ecclesiastical eminence of a - colonial deanery, and his partner in the dignity of his office. The - Macnamara and Standish were there, and Mr. Harwood, together with the Army - Boot Commissioner and Mrs. Crawford, the last of whom arrived with Colonel - Gerald and Daireen. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford had been right. The bishop was charmed with Daireen, and so - expressed himself while he took her hand in his and gave her the - benediction of a smile. Poor Standish, seeing her so lovely as she was - standing there, felt his soul full of love and devotion. What was all the - rest of the world compared with her, he thought; the aggregate beauty of - the universe, including the loveliness of the Miss Van der Veldt who was - in the drawing-room, was insignificant by the side of a single curl of - Daireen's wonderful hair. Mr. Harwood looked towards her also, but - his thoughts were somewhat more complicated than those of Standish. - </p> - <p> - “Is not Daireen perfection?” whispered Mrs. Crawford to - Algernon Glaston. - </p> - <p> - The bishop's son glanced at the girl critically. - </p> - <p> - “I cannot understand that band of black velvet with a pearl in front - of it,” he said. “I feel it to be a mistake—yes, it is - an error for which I am sorry; I begin to fear it was designed only as a - bold contrast. It is sad—very sad.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford was chilled. She had never seen Daireen look so lovely. She - felt for more than a moment that she was all unmeet for a wife, so - child-like she seemed. And now the terrible thought suggested itself to - Mrs. Crawford: what if Mr. Glaston's opinion was, after all, - fallible? might it be possible that his judgment could be in error? The - very suggestion of such a thought sent a cold thrill of fear through her. - No, no: she would not admit such a possibility. - </p> - <p> - The dinner was proceeded with, after the fashion of most dinners, in a - highly satisfactory manner. The guests were arranged with discrimination - in accordance with a programme of Mrs. Crawford's, and the - conversation was unlimited. - </p> - <p> - Much to the dissatisfaction of The Macnamara the men went to the - drawing-room before they had remained more than ten minutes over their - claret. One of the young ladies of the colony had been induced to sing - with the judge's son a certain duet called “La ci darem la - mano;” and this was felt to be extremely agreeable by every one - except the bishop's son. The bishop thanked the young lady very - much, and then resumed his explanation to a group of his guests of the - uses of some implements of war and agriculture brought from the tribes of - the Salamander Archipelago. - </p> - <p> - Three of the pictures of Mr. Glaston's collection were hung in the - room, the most important being that marvellous Aholibah: it was placed - upon a small easel at the farthest end of the room, a lamp being at each - side. A group had gathered round the picture, and Mr. Glaston with the - utmost goodnature repeated the story of its creation. Daireen had glanced - towards the picture, and again that little shudder came over her. - </p> - <p> - She was sitting in the centre of the room upon an ottoman beside Mrs. - Crawford and Mr. Harwood. Standish was in a group at the lower end, while - his father was demonstrating how infinitely superior were the weapons - found in the bogs of Ireland to the Salamander specimens. The bishop moved - gently over to Daireen and explained to her the pleasure it would be - giving every one in the room if she would consent to sing something. - </p> - <p> - At once Daireen rose and went to the piano. A song came to her lips as she - laid her hand upon the keys of the instrument, and her pure earnest voice - sang the words that came back to her:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - From my life the light has waned: - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Every golden gleam that shone - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Through the dimness now has gone: - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Of all joys has one remained? - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Stays one gladness I have known? - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Day is past; I stand, alone, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Here beneath these darkened skies, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Asking—“Doth a star arise?” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - She ended with a passion that touched every one who heard her, and then - there was a silence for some moments, before the door of the room was - pushed open to the wall, and a voice said, “Bravo, my dear, bravo!” - in no weak tones. - </p> - <p> - All eyes turned towards the door. Mr. Despard entered, wearing an ill-made - dress-suit, with an enormous display of shirt-front, big studs, and a - large rose in his button-hole. - </p> - <p> - “I stayed outside till the song was over,” he said. “Bless - your souls, I've got a feeling for music, and hang me if I've - heard anything that could lick that tune.” Then he nodded - confidentially to the bishop. “What do you say, Bishop? What do you - say, King? am I right or wrong? Why, we're all here—all of our - set—the colonel too—how are you, Colonel?—and the editor—how - we all do manage to meet somehow! Birds of a feather—you know. Make - yourselves at home, don't mind me.” - </p> - <p> - He walked slowly up the room smiling rather more broadly than the bishop - was in the habit of doing, on all sides. He did not stop until he was - opposite the picture of Aholibah on the easel. Here he did stop. He seemed - to be even more appreciative of pictorial art than of musical. He bent - forward, gazing into that picture, regardless of the embarrassing silence - there was in the room while every one looked towards him. He could not see - how all eyes were turned upon him, so absorbed had he become before that - picture. - </p> - <p> - The bishop was now certainly not smiling. He walked slowly to the man's - side. - </p> - <p> - “Sir,” said the bishop, “you have chosen an inopportune - time for a visit. I must beg of you to retire.” - </p> - <p> - Then the man seemed to be recalled to consciousness. He glanced up from - the picture and looked into the bishop's face. He pointed with one - hand to the picture, and then threw himself back in a chair with a roar of - laughter. - </p> - <p> - “By heavens, this is a bigger surprise than seeing Oswin himself,” - he cried. “Where is Oswin?—not here?—he should be here—he - must see it.” - </p> - <p> - It was Harwood's voice that said, “What do you mean?” - </p> - <p> - “Mean, Mr. Editor?” said Despard. “Mean? Haven't I - told you what I mean? By heavens, I forgot that I was at the Cape—I - thought I was still in Melbourne! Good, by Jingo, and all through looking - at that bit of paint!” - </p> - <p> - “Explain yourself, sir?” said Harwood. - </p> - <p> - “Explain?” said the man. “That there explains itself. - Look at that picture. The woman in that picture is Oswin Markham's - wife, the Italian he brought to Australia, where he left her. That's - plain enough. A deucedly fine woman she is, though they never did get on - together. Hallo! What's the matter with Missy there? My God! she's - going to faint.” - </p> - <p> - But Daireen Gerald did not faint. Her father had his arm about her. - </p> - <p> - “Papa,” she whispered faintly,—“Papa, take me - home.” - </p> - <p> - “My darling,” said Colonel Gerald. “Do not look like - that. For God's sake, Daireen, don't look like that.” - They were standing outside waiting for the carriage to come up; for - Daireen had walked from the room without faltering. - </p> - <p> - “Do not mind me,” she said. “I am strong—yes—very—very - strong.” - </p> - <p> - He lifted her into the carriage, and was at the point of entering himself, - when the figure of Mrs. Crawford appeared among the palm plants. - </p> - <p> - “Good heavens, George! what is the meaning of this?” she said - in a whisper. - </p> - <p> - “Go back!” cried Colonel Gerald sternly. “Go back! This - is some more of your work. You shall never see my child again!” - </p> - <p> - He stepped into the carriage. The major's wife was left standing in - the porch thunderstruck at such a reproach coming from the colonel. Was - this the reward of her labour—to stand among the palms, listening to - the passing away of the carriage wheels? - </p> - <p> - It was not until the Dutch cottage had been reached that Daireen, in the - darkness of the room, laid her head upon her father's shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “Papa,” she whispered again, “take me home—let us - go home together.” - </p> - <p> - “My darling, you are at home now.” - </p> - <p> - “No, papa, I don't mean that; I mean home—I home—Glenmara.” - </p> - <p> - “I will, Daireen: we shall go away from here. We shall be happy - together in the old house.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” she said. “Happy—happy.” - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean, sir?” said the <i>maître d'hôtel</i>, - referring to a question put to him by Despard, who had been brought away - from the bishop's house by Harwood in a diplomatically friendly - manner. “What do you mean? Didn't Mr. Markham tell you he was - going?” - </p> - <p> - “Going—where?” said Harwood. - </p> - <p> - “To Natal, sir? I felt sure that he had told you, though he didn't - speak to us. Yes, he left in the steamer for Natal two hours ago.” - </p> - <p> - “Squaring everything?” asked Despard. - </p> - <p> - “Sir!” said the <i>maître</i>; “Mr. Markham was a - gentleman.” - </p> - <p> - “It was half a sovereign he gave you then,” remarked Despard. - Then turning to Harwood, he said: “Well, Mr. Editor, this is the end - of all, I fancy. We can't expect much after this. He's gone - now, and I'm infernally sorry for him, for Oswin was a good sort. By - heavens, didn't I burst in on the bishop's party like a - greased shrapnel? I had taken a little better than a glass of brandy - before I went there, so I was in good form. Yes, Paulina is the name of - his wife. He had picked her up in Italy or thereabouts. That's what - made his friends send him off to Australia. He was punished for his sins, - for that woman made his life a hell to him. Now we'll take the - tinsel off a bottle of Moët together.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Harwood; “not to-night.” - </p> - <p> - He left the room and went upstairs, for now indeed this psychological - analyst had an intricate problem to work out. It was a long time before he - was able to sleep. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XLI. - </h2> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_CONC" id="link2H_CONC"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CONCLUSION. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - What is it you would see? - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search. - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And let me speak to the yet unknowing world - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - How these things came about: so shall you hear - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Of accidental judgments... - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - purposes mistook. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - ... let this same be presently performed - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - ... lest more mischance - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - On plots and errors happen.—<i>Hamlet.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>ITTLE more remains - to be told to complete the story of the few months of the lives of the - people whose names have appeared in these pages in illustration of how - hardly things go right. - </p> - <p> - Upon that night, after the bishop's little dinnerparty, every one, - except Mr. Despard, seemed to have a bitter consciousness of how terribly - astray things had gone. It seemed hopeless to think that anything could - possibly be made right again. If Mrs. Crawford had not been a pious woman - and a Christian, she would have been inclined to say that the Fates, which - had busied themselves with the disarrangement of her own carefully - constructed plans, had become inebriated with their success and were - wantoning in the confusion of the mortals who had been their playthings. - Should any one have ventured to interpret her thoughts after this fashion, - however, Mrs. Crawford would have been indignant and would have assured - her accuser that her only thought was how hardly things go right. And - perhaps, indeed, the sum of her thoughts could not have been expressed by - words of fuller meaning. - </p> - <p> - She had been careful beyond all her previous carefulness that her plans - for the future of Daireen Gerald should be arranged so as to insure their - success; and yet, what was the result of days of thoughtfulness and - unwearying toil, she asked herself as she was driving homeward under the - heavy oak branches amongst which a million fire-flies were flitting. This - feeling of defeat—nay, even of shame, for the words Colonel Gerald - had spoken to her in his bitterness of spirit were still in her mind—was - this the result of her care, her watchfulness, her skill of organisation? - Truly Mrs. Crawford felt that she had reason for thinking herself - ill-treated. - </p> - <p> - “Major,” she said solemnly to the Army Boot Commissioner as he - partook of some simple refreshment in the way of brandy and water before - retiring for the night—“Major, listen to me while I tell you - that I wash my hands clear of these people. Daireen Gerald has - disappointed me; she has made a fool both of herself and of me; and George - Gerald grossly insulted me.” - </p> - <p> - “Did he really now?” said the major compassionately, as he - added another thimbleful of the contents of the bottle to his tumbler. - “Upon my soul it was too bad of George—a devilish deal too bad - of him.” Here the major emptied his tumbler. He was feeling bitterly - the wrong done to his wife as he yawned and searched in the dimness for a - cheroot. - </p> - <p> - “I wash my hands clear of them all,” continued the lady. - “The bishop is a poor thing to allow himself to be led by that son - of his, and the son is a——” - </p> - <p> - “For God's sake take care, Kate; a bishop, you know, is not - like the rest of the people.” - </p> - <p> - “He is a weak thing, I say,” continued Mrs. Crawford firmly. - “And his son is—a—puppy. But I have done with them.” - </p> - <p> - “And <i>for</i> them,” said the major, striking a light. - </p> - <p> - Thus it was that Mrs. Crawford relieved her pent-up feelings as she went - to her bed; but in spite of the disappointment Daireen had caused her, and - the gross insult she had received from Daireen's father, before she - went to sleep she had asked herself if it might not be well to forgive - George Gerald and to beg of him to show some additional attention to Mr. - Harwood, who was, all things considered, a most deserving man, besides - being a distinguished person and a clever. Yes, she thought that this - would be a prudent step for Colonel Gerald to take at once. If Daireen had - made a mistake, it was sad, to be sure, but there was no reason why it - might not be retrieved, Mrs. Crawford felt; and she fell asleep without - any wrath in her heart against her old friend George Gerald. - </p> - <p> - And Arthur Harwood, as he stood in his room at the hotel and looked out to - the water of Table Bay, had the truth very strongly forced upon him that - things had gone far wrong indeed, and with a facility of error that was - terrifying. He felt that he alone could fully appreciate how terribly - astray everything had gone. He saw in a single glance all of the past; and - his scrupulously just conscience did not fail to give him credit for - having at least surmised something of the truth that had just been brought - to light. From the first—even before he had seen the man—he - had suspected Oswin Markham; and, subsequently, had he not perceived—or - at any rate fancied that he perceived—something of the feeling that - existed between Markham and Daireen? - </p> - <p> - His conscience gave him ample credit for his perception; but after all, - this was an unsatisfactory set-off against the weight of his reflections - on the subject of the general error of affairs that concerned him closely, - not the least of which was the unreasonable conduct of the Zulu monarch - who had rejected the British ultimatum, and who thus necessitated the - presence of a special correspondent in his dominions. Harwood, seeing the - position of everything at a glance, had come to the conclusion that it - would be impossible for him, until some months had passed, to tell Daireen - all that he believed was in his heart. He knew that she had loved that man - whom she had saved from death, and who had rewarded her by behaving as a - ruffian towards her; still Mr. Harwood, like Mrs. Crawford, felt that her - mistake was not irretrievable. But if he himself were now compelled by the - conduct of this wretched savage to leave Cape Town for an indefinite - period, how should he have an opportunity of pointing out to Daireen the - direction in which her happiness lay? Mr. Harwood was not generously - disposed towards the Zulu monarch. - </p> - <p> - Upon descending to the coffee-room in the morning, he found Mr. Despard - sitting somewhat moodily at the table. Harwood was beginning to think, now - that Mr. Despard's mission in life had been performed, there could - be no reason why his companionship should be sought. But Mr. Despard was - not at all disposed to allow his rapidly conceived friendship for Harwood - to be cut short. - </p> - <p> - “Hallo, Mr. Editor, you're down at last, are you?” he - cried. “The colonel didn't go up to, your room, you bet, - though he did to me—fine old boy is he, by my soul—plenty of - good work in him yet.” - </p> - <p> - “The colonel? Was Colonel Gerald here?” asked Harwood. - </p> - <p> - “He was, Mr. Editor; he was here just to see me, and have a friendly - morning chat. We've taken to each other, has the colonel and me.” - </p> - <p> - “He heard that Markham had gone? You told him, no doubt?” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Editor, sir,” said Despard, rising to his feet and - keeping himself comparatively steady by grasping the edge of the table,—“Mr. - Editor, there are things too sacred to be divulged even to the Press. - There are feelings—emotions—chords of the human heart—you - know all that sort of thing—the bond of friendship between the - colonel and me is something like that. What I told him will never be - divulged while I'm sober. Oswin had his faults, no doubt, but for - that matter I have mine. Which of us is perfect, Mr. Editor? Why, here's - this innocent-looking lad that's coming to me with another bottle of - old Irish, hang me if he isn't a walking receptacle of bribery and - corruption! What, are you off?” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Harwood was off, nor did he think if necessary to go through the - formality of shaking hands with the moraliser at the table. - </p> - <p> - It was on the day following that Mrs. Crawford called at Colonel Gerald's - cottage at Mowbray. She gave a start when she saw that the little hall was - blocked up with packing-cases. One of them was an old military camp-box, - and upon the end of it was painted in dimly white letters the name “Lieutenant - George Gerald.” Seeing it now as she had often seen it in the days - at the Indian station, the poor old campaigner sat down on a tin - uniform-case and burst into tears. - </p> - <p> - “Kate, dear good Kate,” said Colonel Gerald, laying his hand - on her shoulder. “What is the matter, my dear girl?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, George, George!” sobbed the lady, “look at that - case there—look at it, and think of the words you spoke to me two - nights ago. Oh, George, George!” - </p> - <p> - “God forgive me, Kate, I was unjust—ungenerous. Oh, Kate, you - do not know how I had lost myself as the bitter truth was forced upon me. - You have forgiven me long ago, have you not?” - </p> - <p> - “I have, George,” she said, putting her hand in his. “God - knows I have forgiven you. But what is the meaning of this? You are not - going away, surely?” - </p> - <p> - “We leave by the mail to-morrow, Kate,” said the colonel. - </p> - <p> - “Good gracious, is it so bad as that?” asked the lady, - alarmed. - </p> - <p> - “Bad? there is nothing bad now, my dear. We only feel—Dolly - and myself—that we must have a few months together amongst our - native Irish mountains before we set out for the distant Castaways.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford looked into his face earnestly for some moments. “Poor - darling little Dolly,” she said in a voice full of compassion; - “she has met with a great grief, but I pray that all may yet be - well. I will not see her now, but I will say farewell to her aboard the - steamer to-morrow. Give her my love, George. God knows how dear she is to - me.” - </p> - <p> - Colonel Gerald put his arms about his old friend and kissed her silently. - </p> - <p> - Upon the afternoon of the next day the crowd about the stern of the mail - steamer which was at the point of leaving for England was very large. But - it is only necessary to refer to a few of the groups on the deck. Colonel - Gerald and his old friend Major Crawford were side by side, while Daireen - and the major's wife were standing apart looking together up to the - curved slopes of the tawny Lion's Head that half hid the dark, flat - face of Table Mountain. Daireen was pale almost to whiteness, and as her - considerate friend said some agreeable words to her she smiled faintly, - but the observant Standish felt that her smile was not real, it was only a - phantom of the smiles of the past which had lived upon her face. Standish - was beside his father, who had been so fortunate as to obtain the - attention of Mr. Harwood for the story of the wrongs he had suffered - through the sale of his property in Ireland. - </p> - <p> - “What is there left for me in the counthry of my sires that bled?” - he inquired with an emphasis that almost amounted to passion. “The - sthrangers that have torn the land away from us thrample us into the dust. - No, sir, I'll never return to be thrampled upon; I'll go with - my son to the land of our exile—the distant Castaway isles, where - the flag of freedom may yet burn as a beacon above the thunderclouds of - our enemies. Return to the land that has been torn from us? Never.” - </p> - <p> - Standish, who could have given a very good guess as to the number of The - Macnamara's creditors awaiting his return with anxiety, if not - impatience, moved away quickly, and Daireen noticed his action. She - whispered a word to Mrs. Crawford, and in another instant she and Standish - were together. She gave him her hand, and each looked into the other's - face speechlessly for a few moments. On her face there was a faint tender - smile, but his was full of passionate entreaty, the force of which made - his eyes tremulous. - </p> - <p> - “Standish, dear old Standish,” she said; “you alone seem - good and noble and true. You will not forget all the happy days we have - had together.” - </p> - <p> - “Forget them?” said Standish. “Oh, Daireen, if you could - but know all—if you could but know how I think of every day we have - passed together. What else is there in the world worth thinking about? Oh, - Daireen, you know that I have always thought of you only—that I will - always think of you.” - </p> - <p> - “Not yet, Standish,” she whispered. “Do not say anything - to me—no, nothing—yet. But you will write every week, and tell - me how the Castaway people are getting on, until we come out to you at the - islands.” - </p> - <p> - “Daireen, do all the days we have passed together at home—on - the lough—on the mountain, go for nothing?” he cried almost - sadly. “Oh, my darling, surely we cannot part in this way. Your life - is not wrecked.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no, not wrecked,” she said with a start, and he knew she - was struggling to be strong. - </p> - <p> - “You will be happy, Daireen, you will indeed, after a while. And you - will give me a word of hope now—one little word to make me happy.” - </p> - <p> - She looked at him—tearfully—lovingly. “Dear Standish, I - can only give you one word. Will it comfort you at all if I say <i>Hope</i>, - Standish?” - </p> - <p> - “My darling, my love! I knew it would come right in the end. The - world I knew could not be so utterly forsaken by God but that everything - should come right.” - </p> - <p> - “It is only one word I have given you,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “But what a word, Daireen! oh, the dearest and best word I ever - heard breathed. God bless you, darling! God bless you!” - </p> - <p> - He did not make any attempt to kiss her: he only held her white hand - tightly for an instant and looked into her pure, loving eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Now, my boy, good-bye,” said Colonel Gerald, laying his hand - upon Standish's shoulder. “You will leave next week for the - Castaways, and you will, I know, be careful to obey to the letter the - directions of those in command until I come out to you. You must write a - complete diary, as I told you—ah, there goes the gun! Daireen, here - is Mr. Harwood waiting to shake hands with you.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Harwood's hand was soon in the girl's. - </p> - <p> - “Good-bye, Miss Gerald. I trust you will sometimes give me a - thought,” he said quietly. - </p> - <p> - “I shall never forget you, Mr. Harwood,” she said as she - returned his grasp. - </p> - <p> - In another instant, as it seemed to the group on the shore, the good - steamer passing out of the bay had dwindled down to that white piece of - linen which a little hand waved over the stern. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Harwood,” said Mrs. Crawford, as the special - correspondent brought the major's wife to a wagonette,—“Mr. - Harwood, I fear we have been terribly wrong. But indeed all the wrong was - not mine. You, I know, will not blame me.” - </p> - <p> - “I blame you, Mrs. Crawford? Do not think of such a thing,” - said Harwood. “No; no one is to blame. Fate was too much for both of - us, Mrs. Crawford. But all is over now. All the past days with her near us - are now no more than pleasant memories. I go round to Natal in two days, - and then to my work in the camp.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Mr. Harwood, what ruffians there are in this world!” said - the lady just before they parted. Mr. Harwood smiled his acquiescence. His - own experience in the world had led him to arrive unassisted at a similar - conclusion. - </p> - <p> - Arthur Harwood kept his work and left by the steamer for Natal two days - afterwards; and in the same steamer Mr. Despard took passage also, - declaring his intention to enlist on the side of the Zulus. Upon reaching - Algoa Bay, however, he went ashore and did not put in an appearance at the - departure of the steamer from the port; so that Mr. Harwood was deprived - of his companionship, which had hitherto been pretty close, but which - promised to become even more so. As there was in the harbour a small - vessel about to proceed to Australia, the anxiety of the special - correspondent regarding the future of the man never reached a point of - embarrassment. - </p> - <p> - The next week Standish Macnamara, accompanied by his father, left for the - Castaway Islands, where he was to take up his position as secretary to the - new governor of the sunny group. Standish was full of eagerness to begin - his career of hard and noble work in the world. He felt that there would - be a large field for the exercise of his abilities in the Castaways, and - with the word that Daireen had given him living in his heart to inspire - all his actions, he felt that there was nothing too hard for him to - accomplish, even to compelling his father to return to Ireland before six - months should have passed. - </p> - <p> - It was on a cool afternoon towards the end of this week, that Mrs. - Crawford was walking under the trees in the gardens opposite Government - House, when she heard a pleasant little musical laugh behind her, - accompanied by the pat of dainty little high-heeled shoes. - </p> - <p> - “Dear, good Mrs. Crawford, why will you walk so terribly fast? It - quite took away the breath of poor little me to follow you,” came - the voice of Lottie Vincent Mrs. Crawford turned, and as she was with a - friend, she could not avoid allowing her stout hand to be touched by one - of Lottie's ten-buttoned gloves. “Ah, you are surprised to see - me,” continued the young lady. “I am surprised myself to find - myself here, but papa would not hear of my remaining at Natal when he went - on to the frontier with the regiment, so I am staying with a friend in - Cape Town. Algernon is here, but the dear boy is distressed by the number - of people. Poor Algy is so sensitive.” - </p> - <p> - “Poor who?” cried Mrs. Crawford. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, good gracious, what have I said?” exclaimed the artless - little thing, blushing very prettily, and appearing as tremulous as a - fluttered dove. “Ah, my dear Mrs. Crawford, I never thought of - concealing it from you for a moment. I meant to tell you the first of any - one in the world—I did indeed.” - </p> - <p> - “To tell me what?” asked the major's wife sternly. - </p> - <p> - “Surely you know that the dear good bishop has given his consent to—to—do - help me out of my difficulty of explaining, Mrs. Crawford.” - </p> - <p> - “To your becoming the wife of his son?” - </p> - <p> - “I knew you would not ask me to say it all so terribly plainly,” - said Lottie. “Ah yes, dear Algy was too importunate for poor little - me to resist; I pitied him and promised to become his for ever. We are - devoted to each other, for there is no bond so fast as that of artistic - sympathy, Mrs. Crawford. I meant to write and thank you for your dear - good-natured influence, which, I know, brought about his proposal. It was - all due, I frankly acknowledge, to your kindness in bringing us together - upon the day of that delightful lunch we had at the grove of silver - leaves. How can I ever thank you? But there is darling Algy looking quite - bored. I must rush to him,” she continued, as she saw Mrs. Crawford - about to speak. Lottie did not think it prudent to run the risk of hearing - Mrs. Crawford refer to certain little Indian affairs connected with Lottie's - residence at that agreeable station on the Himalayas; so she kissed the - tips of her gloves, and tripped away to where Mr. Algernon Glaston was - sitting on one of the garden seats. - </p> - <p> - “She is a wicked girl,” said Mrs. Crawford to her companion. - “She has at last succeeded in finding some one foolish enough to be - entrapped by her. Never mind, she has conquered—I admit that. Oh, - this world, this world!” - </p> - <p> - And there can hardly be a doubt that Miss Lottie Vincent, all things - considered, might be said to have conquered. She was engaged to marry - Algernon Glaston, the son of the Bishop of the Calapash Islands and - Metropolitan of the Salamander Group, and this to Lottie meant conquest. - </p> - <p> - Of Oswin Markham only a few words need be spoken to close this story, such - as it is. Oswin Markham was once more seen by Harwood. Two months after - the outbreak of the war the special correspondent, in the exercise of his - duty, was one night riding by the Tugela, where a fierce engagement had - taken place between the Zulus and the British troops. The dead, black and - white, were lying together—assagai and rifle intermixed. Harwood - looked at the white upturned faces of the dead men that the moonlight made - more ghastly, and amongst those faces he saw the stern clear-cut features - of Oswin Markham. He was in the uniform of a Natal volunteer. Harwood gave - a start, but only one; he stood above the dead man for a long time, lost - in his own thoughts. Then the pioneers, who were burying the dead, came - up. - </p> - <p> - “Poor wretch, poor wretch!” he said slowly, standing there in - the moonlight. “Poor wretch!... If she had never seen him... if... - Poor child!” - </p> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Daireen, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAIREEN *** - -***** This file should be named 51937-h.htm or 51937-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/3/51937/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -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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- <head>
- <title>
- Daireen, by Frank Frankfort Moore
- </title>
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Daireen, by Frank Frankfort Moore
-
-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
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-
-
-Title: Daireen
- Volume 2 of 2
-
-Author: Frank Frankfort Moore
-
-Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51937]
-Last Updated: March 13, 2018
-
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAIREEN ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
- <div style="height: 8em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- DAIREEN
- </h1>
- <h3>
- Volume 2 of 2
- </h3>
- <h3>
- </h3>
- <h2>
- By Frank Frankfort Moore
- </h2>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" alt="frontispiece " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/frontispiece.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" />
- </a>
- </h5>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/titlepage1.jpg" alt="titlepage1 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/titlepage1.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" />
- </a>
- </h5>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/titlepage2.jpg" alt="titlepage2 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/titlepage2.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" />
- </a>
- </h5>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/titlepage3.jpg" alt="titlepage3 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/titlepage3.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" />
- </a>
- </h5>
- <blockquote>
- <p>
- (Transcriber's Note: Chapters XX to XXIV were taken from a print
- copy of a different edition as these chapters were missing from the 1880
- print edition from which the rest of the Project Gutenberg edition was
- taken. In the inserted four chapters it will be noted that the normal
- double quotation marks were printed as single quote marks.)
- </p>
- </blockquote>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- <b>CONTENTS</b>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XXXIX. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XL. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XLI. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_CONC"> CONCLUSION. </a>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXIII.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- I have heard of your paintings too.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- <i>Hamlet</i>. His form and cause conjoined, preaching to stones,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Would make them capable. Do not look upon me,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Lest... what I have to do
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Will want true colour....
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Do you see nothing there?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- <i>Queen</i>. No, nothing but ourselves.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- <i>Hamlet</i>. Why, look you there...
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal.
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- <i>Hamlet.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> AM so glad to be
- beside some one who can tell me all I want to know' said Lottie,
- looking up to Colonel Gerald's bronzed face when Mrs. Crawford and
- Markham had walked on.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'My dear Lottie, you know very well that you know as much as I do,'
- he answered, smiling down at her.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Oh, Colonel Gerald, how can you say such a thing?' she cried
- innocently. 'You know I am always getting into scrapes through my
- simplicity.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'You have managed to get out of a good many in your time, my dear.
- Is it by the same means you got out of them, Lottie-your simplicity?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Oh, you are as amusing as ever,' laughed the young thing.
- 'But you must not be hard upon poor little me, now that I want to
- ask you so much. Will you tell me, like a dear good colonel—I know
- you can if you choose—what is the mystery about this Mr. Markham?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Mystery? I don't hear of any mystery about him.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Why, all your friends came out in the some steamer as he did. They
- must have told you. Everybody here is talking about him. That's why
- I want him for our theatricals: everyone will come to see him.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Well, if the mystery, whatever it may be, remains unrevealed up to
- the night of the performance, you will have a house all the more crowded.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'But I want to know all about it for myself. Is it really true that
- he had fallen overboard from another ship, and was picked up after being
- several weeks at sea?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'You would be justified in calling that a mystery, at any rate,'
- said Colonel Gerald.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'That is what some people here are saying, I can assure you,'
- she cried quickly. 'Others say that he was merely taken aboard the
- steamer at St. Helena, after having been wrecked; but that is far too
- unromantic.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Oh, yes, far too unromantic.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Then you do know the truth? Oh, please tell it to me. I have always
- said I was sure it was true that a girl on the steamer saw him floating on
- the horizon with an unusually powerful pilot-glass.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Rather mysterious for a fellow to be floating about on the horizon
- with a pilot-glass, Lottie.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'What a shame to make fun of me, especially as our performance is in
- the cause of charity, and I want Mr. Markham's name to be the
- particular attraction! Do tell me if he was picked up at sea.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I believe he was.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'How really lovely! Floating about on a wreck and only restored
- after great difficulty! Our room should be filled to the doors. But what I
- can't understand, Colonel Gerald, is where he gets the money he
- lives on here. He could not have had much with him when he was picked up.
- But people say he is very rich.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Then no doubt people have been well informed, my dear. But all I
- know is that this Mr. Markham was on his way from New Zealand, or perhaps
- Australia, and his vessel having foundered, he was picked up by the
- “Cardwell Castle” and brought to the Cape. He had a note for a
- few hundred pounds in his pocket which he told me he got cashed here
- without any difficulty, and he is going to England in a short time. Here
- we are at the room where these pictures are said to be hanging. Be sure
- you keep up the mystery, Lottie.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Ah, you have had your little chat, I hope,' said Mrs.
- Crawford, waiting at the door of Government House until Colonel Gerald and
- Lottie had come up.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'A delightful little chat, as all mine with Colonel Gerald are,'
- said Lottie, passing over to Mr. Markham. 'Are you going inside to
- see the pictures, Mrs. Crawford?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Not just yet, my dear; we must find Miss Gerald,' said Mrs.
- Crawford, who had no particular wish to remain in close attachment to Miss
- Vincent for the rest of the evening.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Mr. Markham and I are going in,' said Lottie. 'I do so
- dote upon pictures, and Mr. Markham can explain them I know; so <i>au
- revoir</i>.'
- </p>
- <p>
- She kissed the dainty tips of her gloves and passed up to the small piazza
- at the House, near where Major Crawford and some of the old Indians were
- sitting drinking their brandy and soda and revolving many memories.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Let us not go in for a while, Mr. Markham,' she said. 'Let
- us stay here and watch them all. Isn't it delightfully cool here?
- How tell me all that that dreadful old Mrs. Crawford was saying to you
- about me.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Upon my word,' said Markham smiling, 'it <i>is</i>
- delightfully cool up here.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I know she said ever so much; she does so about everyone who has at
- any time run against her and her designs. She's always designing.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'And you ran against her, you think?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Of course I did,' cried Lottie, turning round and giving an
- almost indignant look at the man beside her. 'And she has been
- saying nasty things about me ever since; only of course they have never
- injured me, as people get to understand her in a very short time. But what
- did she say just now?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Nothing, I can assure you, that was not very much in favour of the
- theatrical idea I have just promised to work out with you, Miss Vincent:
- she told me you were a—a capital actress.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'She said that, did she? Spiteful old creature! Just see how she is
- all smiles and friendliness to Mr. Harwood because she thinks he will say
- something about her husband's appointment and the satisfaction it is
- giving in the colony in his next letter to the “Trumpeter.”
- That is Colonel Gerald's daughter with them now, is it not?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Yes, that is Miss Gerald,' answered Markham, looking across
- the lawn to where Daireen was standing with Mr. Harwood and some of the
- tennis-players as Mrs. Crawford and her companion came up with Mr.
- Glaston, whom they had discovered and of whom the lady had taken
- possession. The girl was standing beneath the broad leaf of a plantain
- with the red sunlight falling behind her and lighting up the deep ravine
- of the mountain beyond. Oswin thought he had never before seen her look so
- girlishly lovely.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'How people here do run after every novelty!' remarked Miss
- Vincent, who was certainly aware that she herself was by no means a
- novelty. 'Just because they never happen to have seen that girl
- before, they mob her to death. Isn't it too bad? What extremes they
- go to in their delight at having found something new! I actually heard a
- gentleman say to-day that he thought Miss Geralds face perfect. Could
- anything be more absurd, when one has only to see her complexion to know
- that it is extremely defective, while her nose is—are you going in
- to the pictures so soon?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Well, I think so,' said Markham. 'If we don't see
- them now it will be too dark presently.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Why, I had no idea you were such a devotee of Art,' she
- cried. 'Just let me speak to papa for a moment and I will submit
- myself to your guidance.' And she tripped away to where the
- surgeon-general was smoking among the old Indians.
- </p>
- <p>
- Oswin Markham waited at the side of the balcony, and then Mrs. Crawford
- with her entire party came up, Mr. Glaston following with Daireen, who
- said, just as she was beside Mr. Markham, 'We are all going to view
- the pictures, Mr. Markham; won't you join us?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I am only waiting for Miss Vincent,' he answered. Then
- Daireen and her companion passed into the room containing the four works
- meant to be illustrative of that perfect conception of a subject, and of
- the only true method of its treatment, which were the characteristics
- assigned to themselves by a certain section of painters with whom Mr.
- Glaston enjoyed communion.
- </p>
- <p>
- The pictures had, by Mr. Glaston's direction, been hung in what
- would strike an uncultured mind as being an eccentric fashion. But, of
- course, there was a method in it. Each painting was placed obliquely at a
- window; the natural view which was to be obtained at a glance outside
- being supposed to have a powerful influence upon the mind of a spectator
- in preparing him to receive the delicate symbolism of each work.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'One of our theories is, that a painting is not merely an imitation
- of a part of nature, but that it becomes, if perfectly worked out in its
- symbolism, a pure creation of Nature herself,' said Mr. Glaston
- airily, as he condescended to explain his method of arrangement to his
- immediate circle. There were only a few people in the room when Mrs.
- Crawford's party entered. Mr. Glaston knew, of course, that Harwood
- was there, but he felt that he could, with these pictures about him, defy
- all the criticism of the opposing school.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'It is a beautiful idea,' said Mrs. Crawford; 'is it
- not, Colonel Gerald?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Capital idea,' said the colonel.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Rubbish!' whispered Harwood to Markham, who entered at this
- moment with Lottie Vincent.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'The absurdity—the wickedness—of hanging pictures in the
- popular fashion is apparent to every thoughtful mind,' said the
- prophet of Art. 'Putting pictures of different subjects in a row and
- asking the public to admire them is something too terrible to think about.
- It is the act of a nation of barbarians. To hold a concert and perform at
- the same instant selections from Verdi, Wagner, Liszt, and the Oxford
- music-hall would be as consistent with the principles of Art as these
- Gallery exhibitions of pictures.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'How delightful!' cried Lottie, lifting up her four-buttoned
- gloves in true enthusiasm. 'I have often thought exactly what he
- says, only I have never had courage to express myself.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'It needs a good deal of courage,' remarked Harwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'What a pity it is that people will continue to be stupid!'
- said Mrs. Crawford. 'For my own part, I will never enter an Academy
- exhibition again. I am ashamed to confess that I have never missed a
- season when I had the chance, but now I see the folly of it all. What a
- lovely scene that is in the small black frame! Is it not, Daireen?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Ah, you perceive the Idea?' said Mr. Glaston as the girl and
- Mrs. Crawford stood before a small picture of a man and a woman in a
- pomegranate grove in a grey light, the man being in the act of plucking
- the fruit. 'You understand, of course, the symbolism of the
- pomegranate and the early dawn-light among the boughs?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'It is a darling picture,' said Lottie effusively.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I never saw such carelessness in drawing before,' said
- Harwood so soon as Mr. Glaston and his friends had passed on to another
- work.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'The colour is pretty fair, but the drawing is ruffianly.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Ah, you terrible critic!' cried Lottie.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'You spoil one's enjoyment of the pictures. But I quite agree
- with you; they are fearful daubs,' she added in a whisper. 'Let
- us stay here and listen to the gushing of that absurd old woman; we need
- not be in the back row in looking at that wonderful work they are crowding
- about.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I am not particularly anxious to stand either in the front or the
- second row,' said Harwood. 'The pavement in the picture is
- simply an atrocity. I saw the thing before.'
- </p>
- <p>
- So Harwood, Lottie, and Markham stood together at one of the open windows,
- through which were borne the brazen strains of the distant band, and the
- faint sounds of the laughter of the lawn-tennis players, and the growls of
- the old Indians on the balcony. Daireen and the rest of the party had gone
- to the furthest window from which at an oblique angle one of the pictures
- was placed. Miss Vincent and Harwood soon found themselves chatting
- briskly; but Markham stood leaning against the wall behind them, with his
- eyes fixed upon Daireen, who was looking in a puzzled way at the picture.
- Markham wondered what was the element that called for this puzzled—almost
- troubled expression upon her face, but he could not see anything of the
- work.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'How very fine, is it not, George?' said Mrs. Crawford to
- Colonel Gerald as they stood back to gaze upon the painting.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I think I'll go out and have a smoke,' replied the
- colonel smiling.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford cast a reproachful glance towards him as he turned away, but
- Mr. Glaston seemed oblivious to every remark.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Is it not wonderful, Daireen?' whispered Mrs. Crawford to the
- girl.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Yes,' said Daireen, 'I think it is—wonderful,'
- and the expression upon her face became more troubled still.
- </p>
- <p>
- The picture was composed of a single figure—a half-naked,
- dark-skinned female with large limbs and wild black hair. She was standing
- in a high-roofed oriental kiosk upon a faintly coloured pavement, gazing
- with fierce eyes upon a decoration of the wall, representing a battle in
- which elephants and dromedaries were taking part. Through one of the
- arched windows of the building a purple hill with a touch of sunset
- crimson upon its ridge was seen, while the Evening Star blazed through the
- dark blue of the higher heaven.
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen looked into the picture, and when she saw the wild face of the
- woman she gave a shudder, though she scarcely knew why.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'All but the face,' she said. 'It is too terrible—there
- is nothing of a woman about it.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'My dear child, that is the chief wonder of the picture,' said
- Mr. Glaston. 'You recognise the subject, of course?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'It might be Cleopatra,' said Daireen dubiously.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Oh, hush, hush! never think of such a thing again,' said Mr.
- Glaston with an expression that would have meant horror if it had not been
- tempered with pity. 'Cleopatra is vulgar—vulgar—popular.
- That is Aholibah.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'You remember, of course, my dear,' said Mrs. Crawford;
- 'she is a young woman in the Bible—one of the old parts—Daniel
- or Job or Hezekiah, you know. She was a Jewess or an Egyptian or something
- of that sort, like Judith, the young person who drove a nail into somebody's
- brain—they were always doing disagreeable things in those days. I
- can't recollect exactly what this dreadful creature did, but I think
- it was somehow connected with the head of John the Baptist.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Oh, no, no,' said Daireen, still keeping her eyes fixed upon
- the face of the figure as though it had fascinated her.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Aholibah the painter has called it,' said
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Glaston. 'But it is the symbolism of the picture that is most
- valuable. Wonderful thought that is of the star—Astarte, you know
- —shedding the light by which the woman views the picture of one of
- her lovers.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Oh!' exclaimed Mrs. Crawford in a shocked way, forgetting for
- the moment that they were talking on Art. Then she recollected herself and
- added apologetically, 'They were dreadful young women, you know,
- dear.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Marvellous passion there is in that face,' continued the
- young man. 'It contains a lifetime of thought—of suffering. It
- is a poem—it is a precious composition of intricate harmonies.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Intricate! I should think it is,' said Harwood to Lottie, in
- the distant window.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Hush!' cried the girl, 'the high-priest is beginning to
- speak.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'The picture is perhaps the only one in existence that may be said
- to be the direct result of the three arts as they are termed, though we
- prefer to think that there is not the least distinction between the
- methods of painting, poetry, and music,' said Mr. Glaston. 'I
- chanced to drop in to the studio of my friend who painted this, and I
- found him in a sad state of despondency. He had nearly all of the details
- of the picture filled in; the figure was as perfect as it is at present—all
- except the expression of the face. “I have been thinking about it
- for days,” said the poor fellow, and I could see that his face was
- haggard with suffering; “but only now and again has the expression I
- want passed across my mind, and I have been unable to catch it.” I
- looked at the unfinished picture,' continued Mr. Glaston, 'and
- I saw what he wanted. I stood before the picture in silence for some time,
- and then I composed and repeated a sonnet which I fancied contained the
- missing expression of passion. He sprang up and seized my hand, and his
- face brightened with happiness: I had given him the absent idea, and I
- left him painting enthusiastically. A few days after, however, I got a
- line from him entreating me to come to him. I was by his side in an hour,
- and I found him in his former state of despondency. “It has passed
- away again,” he said, “and I want you to repeat your sonnet.”
- Unfortunately I had forgotten every line of the sonnet, and when I told
- him so he was in agony. But I begged of him not to despair. I brought the
- picture and placed it before me on a piano. I looked at it and composed an
- impromptu that I thought suggested the exact passion he wanted for the
- face. The painter stood listening with his head bowed down to his hands.
- When I ended he caught up the picture. “I see it all clearly,”
- he cried; “you have saved me—you have saved the picture.”
- Two days afterwards he sent it to me finished as it is now.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Wonderful! is it not, Daireen?' said Mrs. Crawford, as the
- girl turned away after a little pause.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'The face,' said Daireen gently; 'I don't want
- ever to see it again. Let us look at something else.'
- </p>
- <p>
- They turned away to the next picture; but Markham, who had been observing
- the girl's face, and had noticed that little shudder come over her,
- felt strangely interested in the painting, whatever it might be, that had
- produced such an impression upon her. He determined to go unobserved over
- to the window where the work was hanging so soon as everyone would have
- left it.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'It requires real cleverness to compose such a story as that of Mr.
- Glaston's,' said Lottie Vincent to Mr. Harwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'It sounded to me all along like a clever bit of satire, and I
- daresay it was told to him as such,' said Harwood. 'It only
- needed him to complete the nonsense by introducing another of the fine
- arts in the working out of that wonderfully volatile expression.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Which is that?' said Lottie; 'do tell me, like a good
- fellow,' and she laid the persuasive finger of a four-buttoned glove
- upon his arm.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Certainly. I will finish the story for you,' said Harwood,
- giving the least little imitation of the lordly manner of Mr. Glaston.
- 'Yes, my friend the painter sent a telegram to me a few years after
- I had performed that impromptu, and I was by his side in an hour. I found
- him at least twenty years older in appearance, and he was searching with a
- lighted candle in every corner of the studio for that expression of
- passion which had once more disappeared.
- </p>
- <p>
- What could I do? I had exhausted the auxiliaries of poetry and music, but
- fortunately another art remained to me; you have heard of the poetry of
- motion? In an instant I had mounted the table and had gone through a
- breakdown of the most æsthetic design, when I saw his face lighten—his
- grey hairs turned once more to black—long artistic oily black.
- “I have found it,” he cried, seizing the hearthbrush and
- dipping it into the paint just as I completed the final attitude: it was
- found—but—what is the matter, Miss Vincent?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Look!' she whispered. 'Look at Mr. Markham.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Good heavens!' cried Harwood, starting up, 'is he going
- to fall? No, he has steadied himself by the window. I thought he was
- beside us.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'He went over to the picture a second ago, and I saw that pallor
- come over him,' said Lottie.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harwood hastened to where Oswin Markham was standing, his white face
- turned away from the picture, and his hand clutching the rail of a
- curtain.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'What is the matter, Markham?' said Harwood quietly. 'Are
- you faint?'
- </p>
- <p>
- Markham turned his eyes upon him with a startled expression, and a smile
- that was not a smile came upon his face.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Faint? yes,' he said. 'This room after the air. I'll
- be all right. Don't make a scene, for God's sake.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'There is no need,' said Harwood. 'Sit down here, and I'll
- get you a glass of brandy.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Not here,' said Markham, giving the least little side glance
- towards the picture. 'Not here, but at the open window.'
- </p>
- <p>
- Harwood helped him over to the open window, and he fell into a seat beside
- it and gazed out at the lawn-tennis players, quite regardless of Lottie
- Vincent standing beside him and enquiring how he felt.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a few minutes Harwood returned with some brandy in a glass.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Thanks, my dear fellow,' said the other, drinking it off
- eagerly. 'I feel better now—all right, in fact.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'This, of course, you perceive,' came the voice of Mr. Glaston
- from the group who were engrossed over the wonders of the final picture,—'This
- is an exquisite example of a powerful mind endeavouring to subdue the
- agony of memory. Observe the symbolism of the grapes and vine leaves.'
- </p>
- <p>
- In the warm sunset light outside the band played on, and Miss Vincent
- flitted from group to group with the news that this Mr. Markham had added
- to the romance which was already associated with his name, by fainting in
- the room with the pictures. She was considerably surprised and mortified
- to see him walking with Miss Gerald to the colonel's carriage in
- half an hour afterwards.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I assure you,' she said to some one who was laughing at her,—'I
- assure you I saw him fall against the window at the side of one of the
- pictures. If he was not in earnest, he will make our theatricals a great
- success, for he must be a splendid actor.'
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXIV.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent20">
- Rightly to be great
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Is not to stir without great argument.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- So much was our love
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- We would not understand what was most fit.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- She is so conjunctive to my life and soul
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- That, as the star moves not but in his sphere,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- I could not but by her.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- How should I your true love know
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- From another one?—<i>Hamlet</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>LL was not well
- with Mr. Standish MacDermot in these days. He was still a guest at that
- pleasant little Dutch cottage of Colonel Gerald's at Mowbray, and he
- received invitations daily to wherever Daireen and her father were going.
- This was certainly all that he could have expected to make him feel at
- ease in the strange land; but somehow he did not feel at ease. He made
- himself extremely pleasant everywhere he went, and he was soon a general
- favourite, though perhaps the few words Mrs. Crawford now and again let
- fall on the subject of his parentage had as large an influence as his own
- natural charm of manner in making the young Irishman popular. Ireland was
- a curious place most of the people at the Cape thought. They had heard of
- its rebellions and of its secret societies, and they had thus formed an
- idea that the island was something like a British colony of which the
- aborigines had hardly been subdued. The impression that Standish was the
- son of one of the kings of the land, who, like the Indian maharajahs, they
- believed, were allowed a certain revenue and had their titles acknowledged
- by the British Government, was very general; and Standish had certainly
- nothing to complain of as to his treatment. But still all was not well
- with Standish.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had received a letter from his father a week after his arrival
- imploring him to return to the land of his sires, for The MacDermot had
- learned from the ancient bard O'Brian, in whom the young man had
- confided, that Standish's destination was the Cape, and so he had
- been able to write to some address. The MacDermot promised to extend his
- forgiveness to his son, and to withdraw his threat of disinheritance, if
- he would return; and he concluded his letter by drawing a picture of the
- desolation of the neighbourhood owing to the English projectors of a
- railway and a tourists' hotel having sent a number of surveyors to
- the very woods of Innishdermot to measure and plan and form all sorts of
- evil intentions about the region. Under these trying circumstances, The
- Mac-Dermot implored his son to grant him the consolation of his society
- once more. What was still more surprising to Standish was the enclosure in
- the letter of an order for a considerable sum of money, for he fancied
- that his father had previously exhausted every available system of
- leverage for the raising of money.
- </p>
- <p>
- But though it was very sad for Standish to hear of the old man sitting
- desolate beside the lonely hearth of Innishdermot castle, he made up his
- mind not to return to his home. He had set out to work in the world, and
- he would work, he said. He would break loose from this pleasant life he
- was at present leading, and he would work. Every night he made this
- resolution, though as yet the concrete form of the thought as to what sort
- of work he meant to set about had not suggested itself. He would work
- nobly and manfully for her, he swore, and he would never tell her of his
- love until he could lay his work at her feet and tell her that it had been
- done all for her. Meantime he had gone to that garden party at Government
- House and to several other entertainments, while nearly every day he had
- been riding by the side of Daireen over The Flats or along the beautiful
- road to Wynberg.
- </p>
- <p>
- And all the time that Standish was resolving not to open his lips in an
- endeavour to express to Daireen all that was in his heart, another man was
- beginning to feel that it would be necessary to take some step to reveal
- himself to the girl. Arthur Harwood had been analyzing his own heart every
- day since he had gazed out to the far still ocean from the mountain above
- Funchal with Daireen beside him, and now he fancied he knew every thought
- that was in his heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- He knew that he had been obliged to deny himself in his youth the luxury
- of love. He had been working himself up to his present position by his own
- industry and the use of the brains that he felt must be his capital in
- life, and he knew he dared not even think of falling in love. But, when he
- had passed the age of thirty and had made a name and a place for himself
- in the world, he was aware that he might let his affections go fetterless;
- but, alas, it seemed that they had been for too long in slavery: they
- refused to taste the sweets of freedom, and it appeared that his nature
- had become hard and unsympathetic. But it was neither, he knew in his own
- soul, only he had been standing out of the world of softness and of
- sympathy, and had built up for himself unconsciously an ideal whose
- elements were various and indefinable, his imagination only making it a
- necessity that not one of these elements of his ideal should be possible
- to be found in the nature of any of the women with whom he was acquainted
- and whom he had studied.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he had come to know Daireen Gerald—and he fancied he had come
- to know her—he felt that he was no longer shut out from the world of
- love with his cold ideal. He had thought of her day by day aboard the
- steamer as he had thought of no girl hitherto in his life, and he had
- waited for her to think of him and to become conscious that he loved her.
- Considering that one of the most important elements of his vague ideal was
- a complete and absolute unconsciousness of any passion, it was scarcely
- consistent for him now to expect that Daireen should ever perceive the
- feeling of his secret heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had, however, made up his mind to remain at the Cape instead of going
- on to the Castaway Islands; and he had written long and interesting
- letters to the newspaper which he represented, on the subject of the
- attitude of the Kafir chief who, he heard, had been taking an attitude.
- Then he had had several opportunities of riding the horse that Colonel
- Gerald had placed at his disposal; but though he had walked and conversed
- frequently with the daughter of Colonel Gerald, he felt that it would be
- necessary for him to speak more directly what he at least fancied was in
- his heart; so that while poor Standish was swearing every night to keep
- his secret, Mr. Harwood was thinking by what means he could contrive to
- reveal himself and find out what were the girl's feelings with
- regard to himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the firmness of his resolution Standish was one afternoon, a few days
- after the garden party, by the side of Daireen on the furthest extremity
- of The Flats, where there was a small wood of pines growing in a sandy
- soil of a glittering whiteness. They pulled up their horses here amongst
- the trees, and Daireen looked out at the white plain beyond; but poor
- Standish could only gaze upon her wistful face.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I like it,' she said musingly. 'I like that snow. Don't
- you think it is snow, Standish?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'It is exactly the same,' he answered. 'I can feel a
- chill pass over me as I look upon it. I hate it.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Oh!' cried the girl, 'don't say that when I have
- said I like it.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Why should that matter?' he said sternly, for he was feeling
- his resolution very strong within him.
- </p>
- <p>
- She laughed. 'Why, indeed? Well, hate it as much as you wish,
- Standish, it won't interfere with my loving it, and thinking of how
- I used to enjoy the white winters at home. Then, you know, I used to be
- thinking of places like this—places with plants like those aloes
- that the sun is glittering over.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'And why I hate it,' said Standish, 'is because it puts
- me in mind of the many wretched winters I spent in the miserable idleness
- of my home. While others were allowed some chance of making their way in
- the world—making names for themselves—there was I shut up in
- that gaol. I have lost every chance I might have had—everyone is
- before me in the race.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'In what race, Standish? In the race for fame?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Yes, for fame,' cried Standish; 'not that I value fame
- for its own sake,' he added. 'No, I don't covet it,
- except that—Daireen, I think there is nothing left for me in the
- world—I am shut out from every chance of reaching anything. I was
- wretched at home, but I feel even more wretched here.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Why should you do that, Standish?' she asked, turning her
- eyes upon him. 'I am sure everyone here is very kind.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I don't want their kindness, Daireen; it is their kindness
- that makes me feel an impostor. What right have I to receive their
- kindness? Yes, I had better take my father's advice and return by
- next mail. I am useless in the world—it doesn't want me.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Don't talk so stupidly—so wickedly,' said the
- girl gravely. 'You are not a coward to set out in the world and turn
- back discouraged even before you have got anything to discourage you.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I am no coward,' he said; 'but everything has been too
- hard for me. I am a fool—a wretched fool to have set my heart—my
- soul, upon an object I can never reach.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'What do you mean, Standish? You haven't set your heart upon
- anything that you may not gain in time. You will, I know, if you have
- courage, gain a good and noble name for yourself.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Of what use would it be to me, Daireen? It would only be a mockery
- to me—a bitter mockery unless—Oh, Daireen, it must come, you
- have forced it from me—I will tell you and then leave you for ever—Daireen,
- I don't care for anything in the world but to have you love me—a
- little, Daireen. What would a great name be to me unless——'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Hush, Standish,' said the girl with her face flushed and
- almost angry. 'Do not ever speak to me like this again. Why should
- all our good friendship come to an end?' She had softened towards
- the close of her sentence, and she was now looking at him in tenderness.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'You have forced me to speak,' he said. 'God knows how I
- have struggled to hold my secret deep down in my heart—how I have
- sworn to hold it, but it forced itself out—we are not masters of
- ourselves, Daireen. Now tell me to leave you—I am prepared for it,
- for my dream, I knew, was bound to vanish at a touch.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Considering that I am four miles from home and in a wood, I cannot
- tell you to do that,' she said with a laugh, for all her anger had
- been driven away. 'Besides that, I like you far too well to turn you
- away; but, Standish, you must never talk so to me again. Now, let us
- return.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I know I must not, because I am a beggar,' he said almost
- madly. 'You will love some one who has had a chance of making a name
- for himself in the world. I have had no chance.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Standish, I am waiting for you to return.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Yes, I have seen them sitting beside you aboard the steamer,'
- continued Standish bitterly, 'and I knew well how it would be.'
- He looked at her almost fiercely. 'Yes, I knew it—you have
- loved one of them.'
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen's face flushed fearfully and then became deathly pale as she
- looked at him. She did not utter a word, but looked into his face steadily
- with an expression he had never before seen upon hers. He became
- frightened.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Daireen—dearest Daireen, forgive me,' he cried. I am a
- fool—no, worse—I don't know what I say. Daireen, pity me
- and forgive me. Don't look at me that way, for God's sake.
- Speak to me.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Come away,' she said gently. 'Come away, Standish.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'But tell me you forgive me, Daireen,' he pleaded.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Come away,' she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- She turned her horse's head towards the track which was made through
- that fine white sand and went on from amongst the pines. He followed her
- with a troubled mind, and they rode side by side over the long flats of
- heath until they had almost reached the lane of cactus leading to Mowbray.
- In a few minutes they would be at the Dutch cottage, and yet they had not
- interchanged a word. Standish could not endure the silence any longer. He
- pulled up his horse suddenly.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Daireen,' he said. 'I have been a fool—a wicked
- fool, to talk to you as I did. I cannot go on until you say you forgive
- me.'
- </p>
- <p>
- Then she turned round and smiled on him, holding out her hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'We are very foolish, Standish,' she said. 'We are both
- very foolish. Why should I think anything of what you said? We are still
- good friends, Standish.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'God bless you!' he cried, seizing her hand fervently. 'I
- will not make myself a fool again.' 'And I,' said the
- girl, 'I will not be a fool again.'
- </p>
- <p>
- So they rode back together. But though Standish had received forgiveness
- he was by no means satisfied with the girl's manner. There was an
- expression that he could not easily read in that smile she had given him.
- He had meant to be very bitter towards her, but had not expected her to
- place him in a position requiring forgiveness. She had forgiven him, it
- was true, but then that smile of hers—what was that sad wistful
- expression upon her face? He could not tell, but he felt that on the whole
- he had not gained much by the resolutions he had made night after night.
- He was inclined to be dissatisfied with the result of his morning's
- ride, nor was this feeling perceptibly decreased by seeing beneath one of
- the broad-leaved trees that surrounded the cottage the figure of Mr.
- Arthur Harwood by the side of Colonel Gerald.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harwood came forward as Daireen reined up on the avenue.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I have come to say good-bye to you,' he said, looking up to
- her face.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Good-bye?' she answered. 'Why, you haven't said
- good-morning yet.'
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Harwood was a clever man and he knew it; but his faculty for reading
- what was passing in another person's mind did not bring him
- happiness always. He had made use of what he meant to be a test sentence
- to Daireen, and the result of his observation of its effect was not wholly
- pleasant to him. He had hoped for a little flush—a little trembling
- of the hand, but neither had come; a smile was on her face, and the pulses
- of the hand she held out to him were unruffled. He knew then that the time
- had not yet come for him to reveal himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- But why should you say good-bye?' she asked after she had greeted
- him.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Well, perhaps I should only say <i>au revoir</i>, though, upon my
- word, the state of the colony is becoming so critical that one going up
- country should always say good-bye. Yes, my duties call me to leave all
- this pleasant society, Miss Gerald. I am going among the Zulus for a
- while.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I have every confidence in you, Mr. Harwood,' she said.
- 'You will return in safety. We will miss you greatly, but I know how
- much the people at home will be benefited by hearing the result of your
- visit; so we resign ourselves to your absence. But indeed we shall miss
- you.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'And if a treacherous assegai should transfix me, I trust my fate
- will draw a single tear,' he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a laugh as Daireen rode round to dismount and Harwood went in to
- lunch. It was very pleasant chat he felt, but he was as much dissatisfied
- with her laugh as Standish had been with her smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXV.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- Sure, He that made us with such large discourse,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Looking before and after, gave us not
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- That capability and godlike reason
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- To fust in us unused.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- Yet do I believe
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The origin and commencement of his grief
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Sprung from neglected love.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- ... he repulsed—a short tale to make—
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Fell into a sadness, then into a fast,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Thence to a lightness; and by this declension
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Into the madness.—<i>Hamlet.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE very
- pleasantness of the lunch Harwood had at the Dutch cottage made his visit
- seem more unsatisfactory to him. He had come up to the girl with that
- sentence which should surely have sounded pathetic even though spoken with
- indifference. He was beside her to say good-bye. He had given her to
- understand that he was going amongst the dangers of a disturbed part of
- the country, but the name of the barbarous nation had not made her cheek
- pale. It was well enough for himself to make light of his adventurous
- undertaking, but he did not think that her smiles in telling him that she
- would miss him were altogether becoming.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yes, as he rode towards Cape Town he felt that the time had not yet come
- for him to reveal himself to Daireen Gerald. He would have to be patient,
- as he had been for years.
- </p>
- <p>
- Thus far he had found out negatively how Daireen felt towards himself: she
- liked him, he knew, but only as most women liked him, because he could
- tell them in an agreeable way things that they wanted to know—because
- he had travelled everywhere and had become distinguished. He was not a
- conceited man, but he knew exactly how he stood in the estimation of
- people, and it was bitter for him to reflect that he did not stand
- differently with regard to Miss Gerald. But he had not attempted to
- discover what were Daireen's feelings respecting any one else. He
- was well aware that Mrs. Crawford was anxious to throw Mr. Glaston in the
- way of the girl as much as possible; but he felt that it would take a long
- time for Mr. Glaston to make up his mind to sacrifice himself at Daireen's
- feet, and Daireen was far too sensible to be imposed upon by his artistic
- flourishes. As for this young Mr. Standish Macnamara, Harwood saw at once
- that Daireen regarded him with a friendliness that precluded the
- possibility of love, so he did not fear the occupation of the girl's
- heart by Standish. But when Harwood began to think of Oswin Markham—he
- heard the sound of a horse's hoofs behind him, and Oswin Markham
- himself trotted up, looking dusty and fatigued.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought I should know your animal,” said Markham, “and
- I made an effort to overtake you, though I meant to go easily into the
- town.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Harwood looked at him and then at his horse.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You seem as if you owed yourself a little ease,” he said.
- “You must have done a good deal in the way of riding, judging from
- your appearance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A great deal too much,” replied Markham. “I have been
- on the saddle since breakfast.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have been out every morning for the past three days before I
- have left my room. I was quite surprised when I heard it, after the
- evidence you gave at the garden party of your weakness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of my weakness, yes,” said Markham, with a little laugh.
- “It was wretchedly weak to allow myself to be affected by the change
- from the open air to that room, but it felt stifling to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn't feel the difference to be anything considerable,”
- said Harwood; “so the fact of your being overcome by it proves that
- you are not in a fit state to be playing with your constitution. Where did
- you ride to-day?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where? Upon my word I have not the remotest idea,” said
- Markham. “I took the road out to Simon's Bay, but I pulled up
- at a beach on the nearer side of it, and remained there for a good while.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing could be worse than riding about in this aimless sort of
- way. Here you are completely knocked up now, as you have been for the past
- three evenings. Upon my word, you seem indifferent as to whether or not
- you ever leave the colony alive. You are simply trifling with yourself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are right, I suppose,” said Markham wearily. “But
- what is a fellow to do in Cape Town? One can't remain inactive
- beyond a certain time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is only within the past three days you have taken up this roving
- notion,” said Harwood. “It is in fact only since that
- Government House affair.” Markham turned and looked at him eagerly
- for a moment. “Yes, since your weakness became apparent to yourself,
- you have seemed bound to prove your strength to the furthest. But you are
- pushing it too far, my boy. You'll find out your mistake.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps so,” laughed the other. “Perhaps so. By the
- way, is it true that you are going up country, Harwood?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite true. The fact is that affairs are becoming critical with
- regard to our relations with the Zulus, and unless I am greatly mistaken,
- this colony will be the centre of interest before many months have passed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is nothing I should like better than to go up with you,
- Harwood.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Harwood shook his head. “You are not strong enough, my boy,”
- he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a pause before Markham said slowly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, I am not strong enough.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then they rode into Cape Town together, and dismounted at their hotel;
- and, certainly, as he walked up the stairs to his room, Oswin Markham
- looked anything but strong enough to undertake a journey into the Veldt.
- Doctor Campion would probably have spoken unkindly to him had he seen him
- now, haggard and weary, with his day spent on an exposed road beneath a
- hot sun.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is anything but strong enough,” said Harwood to himself as
- he watched the other man; and then he recollected the tone in which
- Markham had repeated those words, “I am not strong enough.”
- Was it possible, he asked himself, that Markham meant that his strength of
- purpose was not sufficiently great? He thought over this question for some
- time, and the result of his reflection was to make him wish that he had
- not thought the conduct of that defiant chief of such importance as
- demanded the personal observation of the representative of the <i>Dominant
- Trumpeter</i>. He felt that he would like to search out the origin of the
- weakness of Mr. Oswin Markham.
- </p>
- <p>
- But all the time these people were thinking their thoughts and making
- their resolutions upon various subjects, Mr. Algernon Glaston was
- remaining in the settled calm of artistic rectitude. He was awaiting with
- patience the arrival of his father from the Salamander Archipelago, though
- he had given the prelate of that interesting group to understand that
- circumstances would render it impossible for his son to remain longer than
- a certain period at the Cape, so that if he desired the communion of his
- society it would be necessary to allow the mission work among the
- Salamanders to take care of itself. For Mr. Glaston was by no means
- unaware of the sacrifice he was in the habit of making annually for the
- sake of passing a few weeks with his father in a country far removed from
- all artistic centres. The Bishop of the Calapash Islands and Metropolitan
- of the Salamander Archipelago had it several times urged upon him that his
- son was a marvel of filial duty for undertaking this annual journey, so
- that he, no doubt, felt convinced of the fact; and though this visit added
- materially to the expenses of his son's mode of life, which, of
- course, were defrayed by the bishop, yet the bishop felt that this
- addition was, after all, trifling compared with the value of the sentiment
- of filial affection embodied in the annual visit to the Cape.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Glaston had allowed his father a margin of three weeks for any
- impediments that might arise to prevent his leaving the Salamanders, but a
- longer space he could not, he assured his father, remain awaiting his
- arrival from the sunny islands of his see. Meantime he was dining out
- night after night with his friends at the Cape, and taking daily drives
- and horse-exercise for the benefit of his health. Upon the evening when
- Harwood and Markham entered the hotel together, Mr. Glaston was just
- departing to join a dinner-party which was to assemble at the house of a
- certain judge, and as Harwood was also to be a guest, he was compelled to
- dress hastily.
- </p>
- <p>
- Oswin Markham was not, however, aware of the existence of the hospitable
- judge, so he remained in the hotel. He was tired almost to a point of
- prostration after his long aimless ride, but a bath and a dinner revived
- him, and after drinking his coffee he threw himself upon a sofa and slept
- for some hours. When he awoke it was dark, and then lighting a cigar he
- went out to the balcony that ran along the upper windows, and seated
- himself in the cool air that came landwards from the sea.
- </p>
- <p>
- He watched the soldiers in white uniform crossing the square; he saw the
- Malay population who had been making a holiday, returning to their quarter
- of the town, the men with their broad conical straw hats, the women with
- marvellously coloured shawls; he saw the coolies carrying their burdens,
- and the Hottentots and the Kafirs and all the races blended in the motley
- population of Cape Town. He glanced listlessly at all, thinking his own
- thoughts undisturbed by any incongruity of tongues or of races beneath
- him, and he was only awakened from the reverie into which he had fallen by
- the opening of one of the windows near him and the appearance on the
- balcony of Algernon Glaston in his dinner dress and smoking a choice
- cigar.
- </p>
- <p>
- The generous wine of the generous judge had made Mr. Glaston particularly
- courteous, for he drew his chair almost by the side of Markham's and
- inquired after his health.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Harwood was at that place to-night,” he said, “and he
- mentioned that you were killing yourself. Just like these newspaper
- fellows to exaggerate fearfully for the sake of making a sensation. You
- are all right now, I think.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite right,” said Markham. “I don't feel exactly
- like an elephant for vigour, but you know what it is to feel strong
- without having any particular strength. I am that way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dreadfully brutal people I met to-night,” continued Mr.
- Glaston reflectively. “Sort of people Harwood could get on with.
- Talking actually about some wretched savage—some Zulu chief or other
- from whom they expect great things; as if the action of a ruffianly
- barbarian could affect any one. It was quite disgusting talk. I certainly
- would have come away at once only I was lucky enough to get by the side of
- a girl who seems to know something of Art—a Miss Vincent—she
- is quite fresh and enthusiastic on the subject—quite a child indeed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Markham thought it prudent to light a fresh cigar from the end of the one
- he had smoked, at the interval left by Mr. Glaston for his comment, so
- that a vague “indeed” was all that came through his closed
- lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, she seems rather a tractable sort of little thing. By the way,
- she mentioned something about your having become faint at Government House
- the other day, before you had seen all my pictures.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, yes,” said Markham. “The change from the open air
- to that room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, of course. Miss Vincent seems to understand something of the
- meaning of the pictures. She was particularly interested in one of them,
- which, curiously enough, is the most wonderful of the collection. Did you
- study them all?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, not all; the fact was, that unfortunate weakness of mine
- interfered with my scrutiny,” said Markham. “But the single
- glance I had at one of the pictures convinced me that it was a most
- unusual work. I felt greatly interested in it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That was the Aholibah, no doubt.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I heard your description of how if came to be painted.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, but that referred only to the marvellous expression of the face—so
- saturate—so devoured—with passion. You saw how Miss Gerald
- turned away from it with a shudder?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why did she do that?” said Markham.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Heaven knows,” said Glaston, with a little sneer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Heaven knows,” said Markham, after a pause and without any
- sneer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She could not understand it,” continued Glaston. “All
- that that face means cannot be apprehended in a glance. It has a
- significance of its own—it is a symbol of a passion that withers
- like a fire—a passion that can destroy utterly all the beauty of a
- life that might have been intense with beauty. You are not going away, are
- you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Markham had risen from his seat and turned away his head, grasping the
- rail of the balcony. It was some moments before he started and looked
- round at the other man. “I beg your pardon,” he said; “I'm
- not going away, I am greatly interested. Yes, I caught a glimpse of the
- expression of the face.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is a miracle of power,” continued Glaston. “Miss
- Gerald felt, but she could not understand why she should feel, its power.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a long pause, during which Markham stared blankly across the
- square, and the other leant back in his chair and watched the curling of
- his cigar clouds through the still air. From the garrison at the castle
- there came to them the sound of a bugle-call.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am greatly interested in that picture,” said Markham at
- length. “I should like to know all the details of its working out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The expression of the face——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, I know all of that. I mean the scene—that hill seen
- through the arch—the pavement of the oriental apartment—the—the
- figure—how did the painter bring them together?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is of little consequence in the study of the elements of the
- symbolism,” said Mr. Glaston.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, of course it is; but still I should like to know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I really never thought of putting any question to the painter about
- these matters,” replied Glaston. “He had travelled in the
- East, and the kiosk was amongst his sketches; as for the model of the
- figure, if I do not mistake, I saw the study for the face in an old
- portfolio of his he brought from Sicily.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, indeed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But these are mere accidents in the production of the picture. The
- symbolism is the picture.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Again there was a pause, and the chatter of a couple of Malays in the
- street became louder, and then fainter, as the speakers drew near and
- passed away.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Glaston,” said Markham at length, “did you remove the
- pictures from Government House?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They are in one of my rooms,” said Glaston. “Would you
- think it a piece of idle curiosity if I were to step upstairs and take a
- look at that particular work?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You could not see it by lamplight. You can study them all in the
- morning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I feel in the mood just now, and you know how much depends upon
- the mood.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My room is open,” said Glaston. “But the idea that has
- possessed you is absurd.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I dare say, I dare say, but I have become interested in all that
- you have told me; I must try and—and understand the symbolism.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He left the balcony before Mr. Glaston had made up his mind as to whether
- there was a touch of sarcasm in his voice uttering the final sentence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not worse than the rest of the uneducated world,” murmured
- the Art prophet condescendingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- But in Mr. Glaston's private room upstairs Oswin Markham was
- standing holding a lighted lamp up to that interesting picture and before
- that wonderful symbolic expression upon the face of the figure; the rest
- of the room was in darkness. He looked up to the face that the lamplight
- gloated over. The remainder of the picture was full of reflections of the
- light.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A power that can destroy utterly all the beauty of a life,”
- he said, repeating the analysis of Mr. Glaston. He continued looking at it
- before he repeated another of that gentleman's sentences—“She
- felt, but could not understand, its power.” He laid the lamp on the
- table and walked over to the darkened window and gazed out. But once more
- he returned to the picture. “A passion that can destroy utterly all
- the beauty of life,” he said again. “Utterly! that is a lie!”
- He remained with his eyes upon the picture for some moments, then he
- lifted the lamp and went to the door. At the door he stopped, glanced at
- the picture and laughed.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the Volsunga Saga there is an account of how a jealous woman listens
- outside the chamber where a man whom she once loved is being murdered in
- his wife's arms; hearing the cry of the wife in the chamber the
- woman at the door laughs. A man beside her says, “Thou dost not
- laugh because thy heart is made glad, or why moves that pallor upon thy
- face?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Oswin Markham left the room and thanked Mr. Glaston for having gratified
- his whim.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXVI.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent10">
- ... What he spake, though it lacked form a little,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Was not like madness. There's something in his soul
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- O'er which his melancholy sits on brood.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Purpose is but the slave to memory.
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Most necessary 'tis that we forget.—<i>Hamlet.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE long level rays
- of the sun that was setting in crimson splendour were touching the bright
- leaves of the silver-fir grove on one side of the ravine traversing the
- slope of the great peaked hill which makes the highest point of Table
- Mountain, but the other side was shadowy. The flat face of the precipice
- beneath the long ridge of the mountain was full of fantastic gleams of red
- in its many crevices, and far away a thin waterfall seemed a shimmering
- band of satin floating downwards through a dark bed of rocks. Table Bay
- was lying silent and with hardly' a sparkle upon its ripples from
- where the outline of Robbin Island was seen at one arm of its crescent to
- the white sand of the opposite shore. The vineyards of the lower slope,
- beneath which the red road crawled, were dim and colourless, for the
- sunset bands had passed away from them and flared only upon the higher
- slopes.
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon the summit of the ridge of the silver-fir ravine Daireen Gerald sat
- looking out to where the sun was losing itself among the ridges of the
- distant kloof, and at her feet was Oswin Markham. Behind them rose the
- rocks of the Peak with their dark green herbage. Beneath them the soft
- rustle of a songless bird was heard through the foliage.
- </p>
- <p>
- But it remains to be told how those two persons came to be watching
- together the phenomenon of sunset from the slope.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was Mrs. Crawford who had upon the very day after the departure of
- Arthur Harwood organised one of those little luncheon parties which are so
- easily organised and give promise of pleasures so abundant. She had
- expressed to Mr. Harwood the grief she felt at his being compelled by duty
- to depart from the midst of their circle, just as she had said to Mr.
- Markham how bowed down she had been at the reflection of his leaving the
- steamer at St. Helena; and Harwood had thanked her for her kind
- expressions, and made a mental resolve that he would say something
- sarcastic regarding the Army Boot Commission in his next communication to
- the <i>Dominant Trumpeter</i>. But the hearing of the gun of the mail
- steamer that was to convey the special correspondent to Natal was the
- pleasantest sensation Mrs. Crawford had experienced for long. She had been
- very anxious on Harwood's account for some time. She did not by any
- means think highly of the arrangement which had been made by Colonel
- Gerald to secure for one of his horses an amount of exercise by allowing
- Mr. Harwood to ride it; for she was well aware that Mr. Harwood would
- think it quite within the line of his duty to exercise the animal at times
- when Miss Gerald would be riding out. She knew that most girls liked Mr.
- Harwood, and whatever might be Mr. Harwood's feelings towards the
- race that so complimented him, she could not doubt that he admired to a
- perilous point the daughter of Colonel Gerald. If, then, the girl would
- return his feeling, what would become of Mrs. Crawford's hopes for
- Mr. Glaston?
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the constant reflection upon this question that caused the sound of
- the mail gun to fall gratefully upon the ears of the major's wife.
- Harwood was to be away for more than a month at any rate, and in a month
- much might be accomplished, not merely by a special correspondent, but by
- a lady with a resolute mind and a strategical training. So she had set her
- mind to work, and without delay had organised what gave promise of being a
- delightful little lunch, issuing half a dozen invitations only three days
- in advance.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Algernon Glaston had, after some persuasion, promised to join the
- party. Colonel Gerald and his daughter expressed the happiness they would
- have at being present, and Mr. Standish Macnamara felt certain that
- nothing could interfere with his delight. Then there were the two
- daughters of a member of the Legislative Council who were reported to look
- with fond eyes upon the son of one of the justices of the Supreme Court, a
- young gentleman who was also invited. Lastly, by what Mrs. Crawford
- considered a stroke of real constructive ability, Mr. Oswin Markham and
- Miss Lottie Vincent were also begged to allow themselves to be added to
- the number of the party. Mrs. Crawford disliked Lottie, but that was no
- reason why Lottie should not exercise the tactics Mrs. Crawford knew she
- possessed, to take care of Mr. Oswin Markham for the day.
- </p>
- <p>
- They would have much to talk about regarding the projected dramatic
- entertainment of the young lady, so that Mr. Glaston should be left
- solitary in that delightful listless after-space of lunch, unless indeed—and
- the contingency was, it must be confessed, suggested to the lady—Miss
- Gerald might chance to remain behind the rest of the party; in that case
- it would not seem beyond the bounds of possibility that the weight of Mr.
- Glaston's loneliness would be endurable.
- </p>
- <p>
- Everything had been carried out with that perfect skill which can be
- gained only by experience. The party had driven from Mowbray for a
- considerable way up the hill. The hampers had been unpacked and the lunch
- partaken of in a shady nook which was supposed to be free from the
- venomous reptiles that make picnics somewhat risky enjoyments in sunny
- lands; and then the young people had trooped away to gather Venus-hair
- ferns at the waterfall, or silver leaves from the grove, or bronze-green
- lizards, or some others of the offspring of nature which have come into
- existence solely to meet the requirements of collectors. Mr. Glaston and
- Daireen followed more leisurely, and Mrs. Crawford's heart was
- happy. The sun would be setting in an hour, she reflected, and she had
- great confidence in the effect of fine sunsets upon the hearts of lovers—.
- nay, upon the raw material that might after a time develop into the hearts
- of lovers. She was quite satisfied seeing the young people depart, for she
- was not aware how much more pleasant than Oswin Markham Lottie Vincent had
- found Mr. Glaston at that judge's dinner-party a few evenings
- previous, nor how much more plastic than Miss Gerald Mr. Glaston had found
- Lottie Vincent upon the same occasion.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford did not think it possible that Lottie could be so clever,
- even if she had had the inclination, as to effect the separation of the
- party as it had been arranged. But Lottie had by a little manouvre waited
- at the head of the ravine until Mr. Glaston and Daireen had come up, and
- then she had got into conversation with Mr. Glaston upon a subject that
- was a blank to the others, so that they had walked quietly on together
- until that pleasant space at the head of the ravine was reached. There
- Daireen had seated herself to watch the west become crimson with sunset,
- and at her feet Oswin had cast himself to watch her face.
- </p>
- <p>
- Had Mrs. Crawford been aware of this, she would scarcely perhaps have been
- so pleasant to her friend Colonel Gerald, or to her husband far down on
- the slope.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was very silent at the head of that ravine. The delicate splash of the
- water that trickled through the rocks far away was distinctly heard. The
- rosy bands that had been about the edges of the silver leaves had passed
- off. Daireen's face was at last left in shadow, and she turned to
- watch the rays move upwards, until soon only the dark Peak was enwound in
- the red light that made its forehead like the brows of an ancient
- Bacchanal encircled with a rose-wreath. Then quickly the red dwindled
- away, until only a single rose-leaf was upon the highest point; an instant
- more and it had passed, leaving the hill dark and grim in outline against
- the pale blue.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then succeeded that time of silent conflict between light and darkness—a
- time of silence and of wonder.
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon the slope of the Peak it was silent enough. The girl's eyes
- went out across the shadowy plain below to where the water was shining in
- its own gray light, but she uttered not a word. The man leant his head
- upon his hand as he looked up to her face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is the 'Ave' you are breathing to the sunset, Miss
- Gerald?” he said at length, and she gave a little start and looked
- at him. “What is the vesper hymn your heart has been singing all
- this time?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She laughed. “No hymn, no song.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I saw it upon your face,” he said. “I saw its melody in
- your eyes; and yet—yet I cannot understand it—I am too gross
- to be able to translate it. I suppose if a man had sensitive hearing the
- wind upon the blades of grass would make good music to him, but most
- people are dull to everything but the rolling of barrels and such-like
- music.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I had not even a musical thought,” said the girl. “I am
- afraid that if all I thought were translated into words, the result would
- be a jumble: you know what that means.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes. Heaven is a jumble, isn't it? A bit of wonderful blue
- here, and a shapeless cloud there—a few faint breaths of music
- floating about a place of green, and an odour of a field of flowers. Yes,
- all dreams are jumbles.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I was dreaming?” she said. “Yes, I dare say my
- confusion of thought without a single idea may be called by courtesy a
- dream.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now have you awakened?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dreams must break and dissolve some time, I suppose, Mr. Markham.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They must, they must,” he said. “I wonder when will my
- awaking come.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you a dream?” she asked, with a laugh.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am living one,” he answered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Living one?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Living one. My life has become a dream to me. How am I beside you?
- How is it possible that I could be beside you? Either of two things must
- be a dream—either my past life is a dream, or I am living one in
- this life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is there so vast a difference between them?” she asked,
- looking at him. His eyes were turned away from her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Vast? Vast?” he repeated musingly. Then he rose to his feet
- and looked out oceanwards. “I don't know what is vast,”
- he said. Then he looked down to her. “Miss Gerald, I don't
- believe that my recollection of my past is in the least correct. My memory
- is a falsehood utterly. For it is quite impossible that this body of mine—this
- soul of mine—could have passed through such a change as I must have
- passed through if my memory has got anything of truth in it. My God! my
- God! The recollections that come to me are, I know, impossible.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't understand you, Mr. Markham,” said Daireen.
- </p>
- <p>
- Once more he threw himself on the short tawny herbage beside her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you not heard of men being dragged back when they have taken a
- step beyond the barrier that hangs between life and death—men who
- have had one foot within the territory of death?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have heard of that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you know it is not the same old life that a man leads when he
- is brought from that dominion of death. He begins life anew. He knows
- nothing of the past. He laughs at the faces that were once familiar to
- him; they mean nothing to him. His past is dead. Think of me, child. Day
- by day I suffered all the agonies of death and hell, and shall I not have
- granted to me that most righteous gift of God? Shall not my past be
- utterly blotted out? Yes, these vague memories that I have are the
- memories of a dream. God has not been so just to me as to others, for
- there are some realities of the past still with me I know, and thus I am
- at times led to think it might be possible that all my recollections are
- true—but no, it is impossible—utterly impossible.” Again
- he leapt to his feet and clasped his hands over his head. “Child—child,
- if you knew all, you would pity me,” he said, in a tone no louder
- than a whisper.
- </p>
- <p>
- She had never heard anything so pitiful before. Seeing the agony of the
- man, and hearing him trying to convince himself of that at which his
- reason rebelled, was terribly pitiful to her. She never before that moment
- knew how she felt towards this man to whom she had given life.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What can I say of comfort to you?” she said. “You have
- all the sympathy of my heart. Why will you not ask me to help you? What is
- my pity?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He knelt beside her. “Be near me,” he said. “Let me look
- at you now. Is there not a bond between us?—such a bond as binds man
- to his God? You gave me my life as a gift, and it will be a true life now.
- God had no pity for me, but you have more than given me your pity. The
- life you have given me is better than the life given me by God.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not say that,” she said. “Do not think that I have
- given you anything. It is your God who has changed you through those days
- of terrible suffering.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, the suffering is God's gift,” he cried bitterly.
- “Torture of days and nights, and then not utter forgetfulness. After
- passing through the barrier of death, I am denied the blessings that
- should come with death.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why should you wish to forget anything of the past?” she
- asked. “Has everything been so very terrible to you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Terrible?” he said, clasping his hands over one of his knees
- and gazing out to the conflict of purple and shell-pink in the west.
- “No, nothing was terrible. I am no Corsair with a hundred romantic
- crimes to give me so much remorseful agony as would enable me to act the
- part of Count Lara with consistency. I am no Lucifer encircled with a halo
- of splendid wickedness. It is only the change that has passed over me
- since I felt myself looking at you that gives me this agony of thought.
- Wasted time is my only sin—hours cast aside—years trampled
- upon. I lived for myself as I had a chance—as thousands of others
- do, and it did not seem to me anything terrible that I should make my
- father's days miserable to him. I did not feel myself to be the
- curse to him that I now know myself to have been. I was a curse to him. He
- had only myself in the world—no other son, and yet I could leave him
- to die alone—yes, and to die offering me his forgiveness—offering
- it when it was not in my power to refuse to accept it. This is the memory
- that God will not take away. Nay, I tell you it seems that instead of
- being blotted out by my days of suffering it is but intensified.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He had bowed down his face upon his hands as he sat there. Her eyes were
- full of tears of sympathy and compassion—she felt with him, and his
- sufferings were hers.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I pity you—with all my soul I pity you,” she said,
- laying her hand upon his shoulder.
- </p>
- <p>
- He turned and took her hand, holding it not with a fervent grasp; but in
- his face that looked up to her tearful eyes there was a passion of love
- and adoration.
- </p>
- <p>
- “As a man looks to his God I look to you,” he said. “Be
- near me that the life you have given me may be good. Let me think of you,
- and the dead Past shall bury its dead.”
- </p>
- <p>
- What answer could she make to him? The tears continued to come to her eyes
- as she sat while he looked into her face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know,” she said—“you know I feel for you. You
- know that I understand you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not all,” he said slowly. “I am only beginning to
- understand myself; I have never done so in all my life hitherto.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then they watched the delicate shadowy dimness—not gray, but full of
- the softest azure—begin to swathe the world beneath them. The waters
- of the bay were reflecting the darkening sky, and out over the ocean
- horizon a single star was beginning to breathe through the blue.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Daireen,” he said at length, “is the bond between us
- one of love?”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was no passion in his voice, nor was his hand that held hers
- trembling as he spoke. She gave no start at his words, nor did she
- withdraw her hand. Through the silence the splash of the waterfall above
- them was heard clearly. She looked at him through the long pause.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not know,” she said. “I cannot answer you yet——No,
- not yet—not yet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will not ask,” he said quietly. “Not yet—not
- yet.” And he dropped her hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he rose and looked out to that star, which was no longer smothered in
- the splendid blue of the heavens, but was glowing in passion until the
- waters beneath caught some of its rays.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a long pause before a voice sounded behind them on the slope—the
- musical voice of Miss Lottie Vincent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you ever see such a sentimental couple?” she cried,
- raising her hands with a very pretty expression of mock astonishment.
- “Watching the twilight as if you were sitting for your portraits,
- while here we have been searching for you over hill and dale. Have we not,
- Mr. Glaston?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Glaston thought it unnecessary to corroborate a statement made with
- such evident ingenuousness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, your search met with its reward, I hope, Miss Vincent,”
- said Oswin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, in finding you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am not so vain as to fancy it possible that you should accept
- that as a reward, Miss Vincent,” he replied.
- </p>
- <p>
- The young lady gave him a glance that was meant to read his inmost soul.
- Then she laughed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We must really hasten back to good Mamma Crawford,” she said,
- with a seriousness that seemed more frivolous than her frivolity. “Every
- one will be wondering where we have been.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lucky that you will be able to tell them,” remarked Oswin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How?” she said quickly, almost apprehensively.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, you know you can say 'Over hill, over dale,' and
- so satisfy even the most sceptical in a moment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss Lottie made a little pause, then laughed again; she did not think it
- necessary to make any reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- And so they all went down by the little track along the edge of the
- ravine, and the great Peak became darker above them as the twilight
- dwindled into evening.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXVII.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent20">
- I have remembrances of yours—
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- ... words of so sweet breath composed
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- As made the things more rich.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Hamlet.... You do remember all the circumstance?
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Horatio. Remember it, my lord?
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Hamlet. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- That would not let me sleep.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- ... poor Ophelia,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Divided from herself and her fair judgment.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Sleep rock thy brain,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- And never come mischance.—<i>Hamlet.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>RS. Crawford was
- not in the least apprehensive of the safety of the young people who had
- been placed under her care upon this day. She had been accustomed in the
- good old days at Arradambad, when the scorching inhabitants had lifted
- their eyes unto the hills, and had fled to their cooling slopes, to
- organise little open-air tiffins for the benefit of such young persons as
- had come out to visit the British Empire in the East under the guidance of
- the major's wife, and the result of her experience went to prove
- that it was quite unnecessary to be in the least degree nervous regarding
- the ultimate welfare of the young persons who were making collections of
- the various products of Nature. It was much better for the young persons
- to learn self-dependence, she thought, and though many of the maidens
- under her care had previously, through long seasons at Continental
- watering-places, become acquainted with a few of the general points to be
- observed in maintaining a course of self-dependence, yet the additional
- help that came to them from the hills was invaluable.
- </p>
- <p>
- As Mrs. Crawford now gave a casual glance round the descending party, she
- felt that her skill as a tactician was not on the wane. They were walking
- together, and though Lottie was of course chatting away as flippantly as
- ever, yet both Markham and Mr. Glaston was very silent, she saw, and her
- conclusions were as rapid as those of an accustomed campaigner should be.
- Mr. Glaston had been talking to Daireen in the twilight, so that Lottie's
- floss-chat was a trouble to him; while Oswin Markham was wearied with
- having listened for nearly an hour to her inanities, and was seeking for
- the respite of silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You naughty children, to stray away in that fashion!” she
- cried. “Do you fancy you had permission to lose yourselves like
- that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did we lose ourselves, Miss Vincent?” said Markham.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We certainly did not,” said Lottie, and then Mrs. Crawford's
- first suggestions were confirmed: Lottie and Markham spoke of themselves,
- while Daireen and Mr. Glaston were mute.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was very naughty of you,” continued the matron. “Why,
- in India, if you once dared do such a thing——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We should do it for ever,” cried Lottie. “Now, you
- know, my dear good Mrs. Crawford, I have been in India, and I have had
- experience of your picnics when we were at the hills—oh, the most
- delightful little affairs—every one used to look forward to them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford laughed gently as she patted Lottie on the cheek. “Ah,
- they were now and again successes, were they not? How I wish Daireen had
- been with us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Egad, she would not be with us now, my dear,” said the major.
- “Eh, George, what do you say, my boy?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For shame, major,” cried Mrs. Crawford, glancing towards
- Lottie.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eh, what?” said the bewildered Boot Commissioner, who meant
- to be very gallant indeed. It was some moments before he perceived how
- Miss Vincent could construe his words, and then he attempted an
- explanation, which made matters worse. “My dear, I assure you I
- never meant that your attractions were not—not—ah—most
- attractive, they were, I assure you—you were then most attractive.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And so far from having waned,” said Colonel Gerald, “it
- would seem that every year has but——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, what on earth is the meaning of this raid of compliments on
- poor little me?” cried the young lady in the most artless manner,
- glancing from the major to the colonel with uplifted hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let us hasten to the carriages, and leave these old men to talk
- their nonsense to each other,” said Mrs. Crawford, putting her arm
- about one of the daughters of the member of the Legislative Council—a
- young lady who had found the companionship of Standish Macnamara quite as
- pleasant as her sister had the guidance of the judge's son up the
- ravine—and so they descended to where the carriages were waiting to
- take them towards Cape Town. Daireen and her father were to walk to the
- Dutch cottage, which was but a short distance away, and with them, of
- course, Standish.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good-bye, my dear child,” said Mrs. Crawford, embracing
- Daireen, while the others talked in a group. “You are looking pale,
- dear, but never mind; I will drive out and have a long chat with you in a
- couple of days,” she whispered, in a way she meant to be
- particularly impressive.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the carriage went off, and Daireen put her hand through her father's
- arm, and walked silently in the silent evening to the house among the
- aloes and Australian oaks, through whose leaves the fireflies were
- flitting in myriads.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is a good woman,” said Colonel Gerald. “An
- exceedingly good woman, only her long experience of the sort of girls who
- used to be sent out to her at India has made her rather misjudge the race,
- I think.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is so good,” said Daireen. “Think of all the
- trouble she was at to-day for our sake.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, for our sake,” laughed her father. “My dear Dolly,
- if you could only know the traditions our old station retains of Mrs.
- Crawford, you would think her doubly good. The trouble she has gone to for
- the sake of her friends—her importations by every mail—is
- simply astonishing. But what did you think of that charming Miss Van der
- Veldt you took such care of, Standish, my boy? Did you make much progress
- in Cape Dutch?”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Standish could not answer in the same strain of pleasantry. He was
- thinking too earnestly upon the visions his fancy had been conjuring up
- during the entire evening—visions of Mr. Glaston sitting by the side
- of Daireen gazing out to that seductive, though by no means uncommon,
- phenomenon of sunset. He had often wished, when at the waterfall gathering
- Venus-hair for Miss Van der Veldt, that he could come into possession of
- the power of Joshua at the valley of Gibeon to arrest the descent of the
- orb. The possibly disastrous consequences to the planetary system seemed
- to him but trifling weighed against the advantages that would accrue from
- the fact of Mr. Glaston's being deprived of a source of conversation
- that was both fruitful and poetical. Standish knew well, without having
- read Wordsworth, that the twilight was sovereign of one peaceful hour; he
- had in his mind quite a store of unuttered poetical observations upon
- sunset, and he felt that Mr. Glaston might possibly be possessed of
- similar resources which he could draw upon when occasion demanded such a
- display. The thought of Mr. Glaston sitting at the feet of Daireen, and
- with her drinking in of the glory of the west, was agonising to Standish,
- and so he could not enter into Colonel Gerald's pleasantry regarding
- the attractive daughter of the member of the Legislative Council.
- </p>
- <p>
- When Daireen had shut the door of her room that night and stood alone in
- the darkness, she found the relief that she had been seeking since she had
- come down from the slope of that great Peak—relief that could not be
- found even in the presence of her father, who had been everything to her a
- few days before. She found relief in being alone with her thoughts in the
- silence of the night. She drew aside the curtains of her window, and
- looked out up to that Peak which was towering amongst the brilliant stars.
- She could know exactly the spot upon the edge of the ravine where she had
- been sitting—where they had been sitting. What did it all mean? she
- asked herself. She could not at first recollect any of the words she had
- heard upon that slope, she could not even think what they should mean, but
- she had a childlike consciousness of happiness mixed with fear. What was
- the mystery that had been unfolded to her up there? What was the
- revelation that had been made to her? She could not tell. It seemed
- wonderful to her how she could so often have looked up to that hill
- without feeling anything of what she now felt gazing up to its slope.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was all too wonderful for her to understand. She had a consciousness of
- nothing but that all was wonderful. She could not remember any of his
- words except those he had last uttered. The bond between them—was it
- of love? How could she tell? What did she know of love? She could not
- answer him when he had spoken to her, nor was she able even now, as she
- stood looking out to those brilliant stars that crowned the Peak and
- studded the dark edges of the slope which had been lately overspread with
- the poppy-petals of sunset. It was long before she went into her bed, but
- she had arrived at no conclusion to her thoughts—all that had
- happened seemed mysterious; and she knew not whether she felt happy beyond
- all the happiness she had ever known, or sad beyond the sadness of any
- hour of her life. Her sleep swallowed up all her perplexity.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the instant she awoke in the bright morning she went softly over to
- the window and looked out from a corner of her blind to that slope and to
- the place where they had sat. No, it was not a dream. There shone the
- silver leaves and there sparkled the waterfall. It was the loveliest hill
- in the world, she felt—lovelier even than the purple heather-clad
- Slieve Docas. This was a terrible thought to suggest itself to her mind,
- she felt all the time she was dressing, but still it remained with her and
- refused to be shaken off.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXVIII.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- ... her election
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Hath sealed thee for herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Adieu, adieu, adieu! Remember me.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Yea, from the table of my memory
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- I'll wipe away all trivial fond records...
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- That youth and observation copied there,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And thy commandment all alone shall live
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Unmixed with baser matter; yes, by heaven!—<i>Hamlet</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>OLONEL Gerald was
- well aware of Mrs. Crawford's strategical skill, and he had watched
- its development and exercise during the afternoon of that pleasant little
- luncheon party on the hill. He remembered what she had said to him so
- gravely at the garden-party at Government House regarding the
- responsibility inseparable from the guardianship of Daireen at the Cape,
- and he knew that Mrs. Crawford had in her mind, when she organised the
- party to the hill, such precepts as she had previously enunciated. He had
- watched and admired her cleverness in arranging the collecting
- expeditions, and he felt that her detaining of Mr. Glaston as she had
- under some pretext until all the others but Daireen had gone up the ravine
- was a master stroke. But at this point Colonel Gerald's observation
- ended. His imagination had been much less vivid than either Mrs. Crawford's
- or Standish's. He did not attribute any subtle influence to the
- setting sun, nor did he conjure up any vision of Mr. Glaston sitting at
- the feet of Daireen and uttering words that the magic of the sunset
- glories alone could inspire.
- </p>
- <p>
- The fact was that he knew much better than either Mrs. Crawford or
- Standish how his daughter felt towards Mr. Glaston, and he was not in the
- least concerned in the result of her observation of the glowing west by
- the side of the Art prophet. When Mrs. Crawford looked narrowly into the
- girl's face on her descent Colonel Gerald had only laughed; he did
- not feel any distressing weight of responsibility on the subject of the
- guardianship of his daughter, for he had not given a single thought to the
- accident of his daughter's straying up the ravine with Algernon
- Glaston, nor was he impressed by his daughter's behaviour on the day
- following. They had driven out together to pay some visits, and she had
- been even more affectionate to him than usual, and he justified Mrs.
- Crawford's accusation of his ignorance and the ignorance of men
- generally, by feeling, from this fact, more assured that Daireen had
- passed unscathed through the ordeal of sunset and the drawing on of
- twilight on the mount.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the next day to that on which they had paid their visits, however,
- Daireen seemed somewhat abstracted in her manner, and when her father
- asked her if she would ride with him and Standish to The Flats she, for
- the first time, brought forward a plea—the plea of weariness—to
- be allowed to remain at home.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her father looked at her, not narrowly nor with the least glance of
- suspicion, only tenderly, as he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Certainly, stay at home if you wish, Dolly. You must not overtax
- yourself, or we shall have to get a nurse for you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He sat by her side on the chair on the stoep of the Dutch cottage and put
- his arm about her. In an instant she had clasped him round the neck and
- had hidden her face upon his shoulder in something like hysterical
- passion. He laughed and patted her on the back in mock protest at her
- treatment. It was some time before she unwound her arms and he got upon
- his feet, declaring that he would not submit to such rough handling. But
- all the same he saw that her eyes were full of tears; and as he rode with
- Standish over the sandy plain made bright with heath, he thought more than
- once that there was something strange in her action and still stranger in
- her tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- Standish, however, felt equal to explaining everything that seemed
- unaccountable. He felt there could be no doubt that Daireen was wearying
- of these rides with him: he was nothing more than a brother—a dull,
- wearisome, commonplace brother to her, while such fellows as Glaston, who
- had made fame for themselves, having been granted the opportunity denied
- to others, were naturally attractive to her. Feeling this, Standish once
- more resolved to enter upon that enterprise of work which he felt to be
- ennobling. He would no longer linger here in silken-folded idleness, he
- would work—work—work—steadfastly, nobly, to win her who
- was worth all the labour of a man's life. Yes, he would no longer
- remain inactive as he had been, he would—well, he lit another cigar
- and trotted up to the side of Colonel Gerald.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Daireen, after the departure of her father and Standish, continued
- sitting upon the chair under the lovely creeping plants that twined
- themselves around the lattice of the projecting roof. It was very cool in
- the gracious shade while all the world outside was red with heat. The
- broad leaves of the plants in the garden were hanging languidly, and the
- great black bees plunged about the mighty roses that were bursting into
- bloom with the first breath of the southern summer. From the brink of the
- little river at the bottom of the avenue of Australian oaks the chatter of
- the Hottentot washerwomen came, and across the intervening space of short
- tawny grass a Malay fruitman passed, carrying his baskets slung on each
- end of a bamboo pole across his shoulders.
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked out at the scene—so strange to her even after the weeks
- she had been at this place; all was strange to her—as the thoughts
- that were in her mind. It seemed to her that she had been but one day at
- this place, and yet since she had heard the voice of Oswin Markham how
- great a space had passed! All the days she had been here were swallowed up
- in the interval that had elapsed since she had seen this man—since
- she had seen him? Why, there he was before her very eyes, standing by the
- side of his horse with the bridle over his arm. There he was watching her
- while she had been thinking her thoughts.
- </p>
- <p>
- She stood amongst the blossoms of the trellis, white and lovely as a lily
- in a land of red sun. He felt her beauty to be unutterably gracious to
- look upon. He threw his bridle over a branch and walked up to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have come to say good-bye,” he said as he took her hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- These were the same words that she had heard from Harwood a few days
- before and that had caused her to smile. But now the hand Markham was not
- holding was pressed against her heart. Now she knew all. There was no
- mystery between them. She knew why her heart became still after beating
- tumultuously for a few seconds; and he, though he had not designed the
- words with the same object that Harwood had, and though he spoke them
- without the same careful observance of their effect, in another instant
- had seen what was in the girl's heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To say good-bye?” she repeated mechanically.
- </p>
- <p>
- “For a time, yes; for a long time it will seem to me—for a
- month.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He saw the faint smile that came to her face, and how her lips parted as a
- little sigh of relief passed through them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “For a month?” she said, and now she was speaking in her own
- voice, and sitting down. “A month is not a long time to say good-bye
- for, Mr. Markham. But I am so sorry that papa is gone out for his ride on
- The Flats.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am fortunate in finding even you here, then,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fortunate! Yes,” she said. “But where do you mean to
- spend this month?” she continued, feeling that he was now nothing
- more than a visitor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is very ridiculous—very foolish,” he replied.
- “I promised, you know, to act in some entertainment Miss Vincent has
- been getting up, and only yesterday her father received orders to proceed
- to Natal; but as all the fellows who had promised her to act are in the
- company of the Bayonetteers that has also been ordered off, no difference
- will be made in her arrangements, only that the performance will take
- place at Pietermaritzburg instead of at Cape Town. But she is so
- unreasonable as to refuse to release me from my promise, and I am bound to
- go with them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is a compliment to value your services so highly, is it not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I would be glad to sacrifice all the gratification I find from
- thinking so for the sake of being released. She is both absurd and
- unreasonable.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So it would certainly strike any one hearing only of this,”
- said Daireen. “But it will only be for a month, and you will see the
- place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I would rather remain seeing this place,” he said. “Seeing
- that hill above us.” She flushed as though he had told her in those
- words that he was aware of how often she had been looking up to that slope
- since they had been there together——
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a long pause, through which the voices and laughter of the women
- at the river-bank were heard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Daireen,” said the man, who stood up bareheaded before her.
- “Daireen, that hour we sat up there upon that slope has changed all
- my thoughts of life. I tell you the life which you restored to me a month
- ago I had ceased to regard as a gift. I had come to hope that it would end
- speedily. You cannot know how wretched I was.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now?” she said, looking up to him. “And now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now,” he answered. “Now—what can I tell you? If I
- were to be cut off from life and happiness now, I should stand before God
- and say that I have had all the happiness that can be joined to one life
- on earth. I have had that one hour with you, and no God or man can take it
- from me: I have lived that hour, and none can make me unlive it. I told
- you I would say no word of love to you then, but I have come to say the
- word now. Child, I dared not love you as I was—I had no thought
- worthy to be devoted to loving you. God knows how I struggled with all my
- soul to keep myself from doing you the injustice of thinking of you; but
- that hour at your feet has given me something of your divine nature, and
- with that which I have caught from you, I can love you. Daireen, will you
- take the love I offer you? It it yours—all yours.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He was not speaking passionately, but when she looked up and saw his face
- haggard with earnestness she was almost frightened—she would have
- been frightened if she had not loved him as she now knew she did. “Speak,”
- he said, “speak to me—one word.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “One word?” she repeated. “What one word can I say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell me all that is in your heart, Daireen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked up to him again. “All?” she said with a little
- smile. “All? No, I could never tell you all. You know a little of
- it. That is the bond between us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He turned away and actually took a few steps from her. On his face was an
- expression that could not easily have been read. But in an instant he
- seemed to recover himself. He took her hand in his.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My darling,” he said, “the Past has buried its dead. I
- shall make myself worthy to think of you—I swear it to you. You
- shall have a true man to love.” He was almost fierce in his
- earnestness, and her hand that he held was crushed for an instant. Then he
- looked into her face with tenderness. “How have you come to answer
- my love with yours?” he said almost wonderingly. “What was
- there in me to make you think of my existence for a single instant?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked at him. “You were—<i>you</i>,” she said,
- offering him the only explanation in her power. It had seemed to her easy
- enough to explain as she looked at him. Who else was worth loving with
- this love in all the world, she thought. He alone was worthy of all her
- heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My darling, my darling,” he said, “I am unworthy to
- have a single thought of you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are indeed if you continue talking so,” she said with a
- laugh, for she felt unutterably happy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I will not talk so. I will make myself worthy to think of you
- by—by—thinking of you. For a month, Daireen,—for a month
- we can only think of each other. It is better that I should not see you
- until the last tatter of my old self is shred away.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It cannot be better that you should go away,” she said.
- “Why should you go away just as we are so happy?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must go, Daireen,” he said. “I must go—and now.
- I would to God I could stay! but believe me, I cannot, darling; I feel
- that I must go.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because you made that stupid promise?” she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That promise is nothing. What is such a promise to me now? If I had
- never made it I should still go.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He was looking down at her as he spoke. “Do not ask me to say
- anything more. There is nothing more to be said. Will you forget me in a
- month, do you think?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Was it possible that there was a touch of anxiety in the tone of his
- question? she thought for an instant. Then she looked into his face and
- laughed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “God bless you, Daireen!” he said tenderly, and there was
- sadness rather than passion in his voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “God keep you, Daireen! May nothing but happiness ever come to you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He held out his hand to her, and she laid her own trustfully in his.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not say good-bye,” she pleaded. “Think that it is
- only for a month—less than a month, it must be. You can surely be
- back in less than a month.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can,” he replied; “I can, and I will be back within a
- month, and then—— God keep you, Daireen, for ever!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He was holding her hand in his own with all gentleness. His face was bent
- down close to hers, but he did not kiss her face, only her hand. He
- crushed it to his lips, and then dropped it. She was blinded with her
- tears, so that she did not see him hasten away through the avenue of oaks.
- She did not even hear his horse's tread, nor could she know that he
- had not once turned round to give her a farewell look.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was some minutes before she seemed to realise that she was alone. She
- sprang to her feet and stood looking out over those deathly silent broad
- leaves, and those immense aloes, that seemed to be the plants in a picture
- of a strange region. She heard the laughter of the Hottentot women at the
- river, and the unmusical shriek of a bird in the distance. She clasped her
- hands over her head, looking wistfully through the foliage of the oaks,
- but she did not utter a word. He was gone, she knew now, for she felt a
- loneliness that overwhelmed every other feeling. She seemed to be in the
- middle of a bare and joyless land. The splendid shrubs that branched
- before her eyes seemed dead, and the silence of the warm scented air was a
- terror to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was gone, she knew, and there was nothing left for her but this
- loneliness. She went into her room in the cottage and seated herself upon
- her little sofa, hiding her face in her hands, and she felt it good to
- pray for him—for this man whom she had come to love, she knew not
- how. But she knew she loved him so that he was a part of her own life, and
- she felt that it would always be so. She could scarcely think what her
- life had been before she had seen him. How could she ever have fancied
- that she loved her father before this man had taught her what it was to
- love? Now she felt how dear beyond all thought her father was to her. It
- was not merely love for himself that she had learnt from Oswin Markham, it
- was the power of loving truly and perfectly that he had taught her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Thus she dreamed until she heard the pleasant voice of her friend Mrs.
- Crawford in the hall. Then she rose and wondered if every one would not
- notice the change that had passed over her. Was it not written upon her
- face? Would not every touch of her hand—every word of her voice,
- betray it?
- </p>
- <p>
- Then she lifted up her head and felt equal to facing even Mrs. Crawford,
- and to acknowledging all that she believed the acute observation of that
- lady would read from her face as plainly as from the page of a book.
- </p>
- <p>
- But it seemed that Mrs. Crawford's eyes were heavy this afternoon,
- for though she looked into Daireen's face and kissed her cheek
- affectionately, she made no accusation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am lucky in finding you all alone, my dear,” she said.
- “It is so different ashore from aboard ship. I have not really had
- one good chat with you since we landed. George is always in the way, or
- the major, you know—ah, you think I should rather say the colonel
- and Jack, but indeed I think of your father only as Lieutenant George. And
- you enjoyed our little lunch on the hill, I hope? I thought you looked
- pale when you came down. Was it not a most charming sunset?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was indeed,” said Daireen, straining her eyes to catch a
- glimpse through the window of the slope where the red light had rested.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I knew you would enjoy it, my dear. Mr. Glaston is such good
- company—ah, that is, of course, to a sympathetic mind. And I don't
- think I am going too far, Daireen, when I say that I am sure he was in
- company with a sympathetic mind the evening before last.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford was smiling as one smiles passing a graceful compliment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think he was,” said Daireen. “Miss Vincent and he
- always seemed pleased with each other's society.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Miss Vincent?—Lottie Vincent?” cried the lady in a
- puzzled but apprehensive way. “What do you mean, Daireen? Lottie
- Vincent?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, you know Mr. Glaston and Miss Vincent went away from us, among
- the silver leaves, and only returned as we were coming down the hill.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford was speechless for some moments. Then she looked at the
- girl, saying, “<i>We</i>,—who were <i>we?</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Markham and myself,” replied Daireen without faltering.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, indeed,” said the other pleasantly. Then there was a
- pause before she added, “That ends my association with Lottie
- Vincent. The artful, designing little creature! Daireen, you have no idea
- what good nature it required on my part to take any notice of that girl,
- knowing so much as I do of her; and this is how she treats me! Never mind;
- I have done with her.” Seeing the girl's puzzled glance, Mrs.
- Crawford began to recollect that it could not be expected that Daireen
- should understand the nature of Lottie's offence; so she added,
- “I mean, you know, dear, that that girl is full of spiteful,
- designing tricks upon every occasion. And yet she had the effrontery to
- come to me yesterday to beg of me to take charge of her while her father
- would be at Natal. But I was not quite so weak. Never mind; she leaves
- tomorrow, thank goodness, and that is the last I mean to see of her. But
- about Mr. Markham: I hope you do not think I had anything to say in the
- matter of letting you be with him, Daireen. I did not mean it, indeed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sure of it,” said Daireen quietly—so quietly that
- Mrs. Crawford began to wonder could it be possible that the girl wished to
- show that she had been aware of the plans which had been designed on her
- behalf. Before she had made up her mind, however, the horses of Colonel
- Gerald and Standish were heard outside, and in a moment afterwards the
- colonel entered the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Papa,” said Daireen almost at once, “Mr. Markham rode
- out to see you this afternoon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, indeed? I am sorry I missed him,” he said quietly. But
- Mrs. Crawford stared at the girl, wondering what was coming.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He came to say good-bye, papa.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford's heart began to beat again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, is he returning to England?” asked the colonel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no; he is only about to follow Mr. Harwood's example and
- go up to Natal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then he need not have said good-bye, anymore than Harwood,”
- remarked the colonel; and his daughter felt it hard to restrain herself
- from throwing her arms about his neck.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah,” said Mrs. Crawford, “Miss Lottie has triumphed!
- This Mr. Markham will go up in the steamer with her, and will probably act
- with her in this theatrical nonsense she is always getting up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is to act with her certainly,” said Daireen. “Ah!
- Lottie has made a success at last,” cried the elder lady. “Mr.
- Markham will suit her admirably. They will be engaged before they reach
- Algoa Bay.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear Kate, why will you always jump at conclusions?” said
- the colonel. “Markham is a fellow of far too much sense to be in the
- least degree led by such a girl as Lottie.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen had hold of her father's arm, and when he had spoken she
- turned round and kissed him. But it was not at all unusual for her to kiss
- him in this fashion on his return from a ride.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXIX.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- Haply the seas and countries different
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- With variable objects shall expel
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- This something-settled matter in his heart,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Whereon his brain still beating puts him thus
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- From fashion of himself.—<i>Hamlet</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>E had got a good
- deal to think about, this Mr. Oswin Markham, as he stood on the bridge of
- the steamer that was taking him round the coast to Natal, and looked back
- at that mountain whose strange shape had never seemed stranger than it did
- from the distance of the Bay.
- </p>
- <p>
- Table Mountain was of a blue dimness, and the white walls of the houses at
- its base were quite hidden; Robbin Island lighthouse had almost dwindled
- out of sight; and in the water, through the bright red gold shed from a
- mist in the west that the falling sun saturated with light, were seen the
- black heads of innumerable seals swimming out from the coastway of rocks.
- Yes, Mr. Oswin Markham had certainly a good deal to think about as he
- looked back to the flat-ridged mountain, and, mentally, upon all that had
- taken place since he had first seen its ridges a few weeks before.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had thought it well to talk of love to that girl who had given him the
- gift of the life he was at present breathing—to talk to her of love
- and to ask her to love him. Well, he had succeeded; she had put her hand
- trustfully in his and had trusted him with all her heart, he knew; and yet
- the thought of it did not make him happy. His heart was not the heart of
- one who has triumphed. It was only full of pity for the girl who had
- listened to him and replied to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- And for himself he felt what was more akin to shame than any other feeling—shame,
- that, knowing all he did of himself, he had still spoken those words to
- the girl to whom he owed the life that was now his.
- </p>
- <p>
- “God! was it not forced upon me when I struggled against it with all
- my soul?” he said, in an endeavour to strangle his bitter feeling.
- “Did not I make up my mind to leave the ship when I saw what was
- coming upon me, and was I to be blamed if I could not do so? Did not I
- rush away from her without a word of farewell? Did not we meet by chance
- that night in the moonlight? Were those words that I spoke to her thought
- over? Were not they forced from me against my own will, and in spite of my
- resolution?” There could be no doubt that if any one acquainted with
- all the matters to which he referred had been ready to answer him, a
- satisfactory reply would have been received by him to each of his
- questions. But though, of course, he was aware of this, yet he seemed to
- find it necessary to alter the ground of the argument he was advancing for
- his own satisfaction. “I have a right to forget the wretched past,”
- he said, standing upright and looking steadfastly across the glowing
- waters. “Have not I died for the past? Is not this life a new one?
- It is God's justice that I am carrying out by forgetting all. The
- past is past, and the future in all truth and devotion is hers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There were, indeed, some moments of his life—and the present was one
- of them—when he felt satisfied in his conscience by assuring
- himself, as he did now, that as God had taken away all remembrance of the
- past from many men who had suffered the agonies of death, he was therefore
- entitled to let his past life and its recollections drift away on that
- broken mast from which he had been cut in the middle of the ocean; but the
- justice of the matter had not occurred to him when he got that bank order
- turned into money at the Cape, nor at the time when he had written to the
- agents of his father's property in England, informing them of his
- escape. He now stood up and spoke those words of his, and felt their
- force, until the sun, whose outline had all the afternoon been undefined
- in the mist, sank beneath the horizon, and the gorgeous colours drifted
- round from his sinking place and dwindled into the dark green of the
- waters. He watched the sunset, and though Lottie Vincent came to his side
- in her most playful mood, her fresh and artless young nature found no
- response to its impulses in him. She turned away chilled, but no more
- discouraged than a little child, who, desirous of being instructed on the
- secret of the creative art embodied in the transformation of a
- handkerchief into a rabbit, finds its mature friend reflecting upon a
- perplexing point in the theory of Unconscious Cerebration. Lottie knew
- that her friend Mr. Oswin Markham sometimes had to think about matters of
- such a nature as caused her little pleasantries to seem incongruous. She
- thought that now she had better turn to a certain Lieutenant Clifford,
- who, she knew, had no intricate mental problems to work out; and she did
- turn to him, with great advantage to herself, and, no doubt, to the
- officer as well. However forgetful Oswin Markham may have been of his past
- life, he could still recollect a few generalities that had struck him in
- former years regarding young persons of a nature similar to this pretty
- little Miss Vincent's. She had insisted on his fulfilling his
- promise to act with her, and he would fulfil it with a good grace; but at
- this point his contract terminated; he would not be tempted into making
- another promise to her which he might find much more embarrassing to carry
- out with consistency.
- </p>
- <p>
- It had been a great grief to Lottie to be compelled, through the
- ridiculous treatment of her father by the authorities in ordering him to
- Natal, to transfer her dramatic entertainment from Cape Town to
- Pietermaritzburg. However, as she had sold a considerable number of
- tickets to her friends, she felt that “the most deserving charity,”
- the augmentation of whose funds was the avowed object of the
- entertainment, would be benefited in no inconsiderable degree by the
- change of venue. If the people of Pietermaritzburg would steadfastly
- decline to supply her with so good an audience as the Cape Town people,
- there still would be a margin of profit, since her friends who had bought
- tickets on the understanding that the performance would take place where
- it was at first intended, did not receive their money back. How could they
- expect such a concession, Lottie asked, with innocent indignation; and
- begged to be informed if it was her fault that her father was ordered to
- Natal. Besides this one unanswerable query, she reminded those who
- ventured to make a timid suggestion regarding the returns, that it was in
- aid of a most deserving charity the tickets had been sold, so that it
- would be an act of injustice to give back a single shilling that had been
- paid for the tickets. Pursuing this very excellent system, Miss Lottie had
- to the credit of the coming performance a considerable sum which would
- provide against the contingencies of a lack of dramatic enthusiasm amongst
- the inhabitants of Pietermaritzburg.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was at the garden-party at Government House that Markham had by
- accident mentioned to Lottie that he had frequently taken part in dramatic
- performances for such-like objects as Lottie's was designed to
- succour, and though he at first refused to be a member, of her company,
- yet at Mrs. Crawford's advocacy of the claims of the deserving
- object, he had agreed to place his services and experience at the disposal
- of the originator of the benevolent scheme.
- </p>
- <p>
- At Cape Town he had not certainly thrown himself very heartily into the
- business of creating a part in the drama which had been selected. He was
- well aware that if a good performance of the nature designed by Lottie is
- successful, a bad performance is infinitely more so; and that any attempt
- on the side of an amateur to strike out a new character from an old part
- is looked upon with suspicion, and is generally attended with disaster; so
- he had not given himself any trouble in the matter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear Miss Vincent,” he had said in reply to a pretty
- little remonstrance from the young lady, “the department of study
- requiring most attention in a dramatic entertainment of this sort is the
- financial. Sell all the tickets you can, and you will be a greater
- benefactress to the charity than if you acted like a Kemble.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lottie had taken his advice; but still she made up her mind that Mr.
- Markham's name should be closely associated with the entertainment,
- and consequently, with her own name. Had she not been at pains to put into
- circulation certain stories of the romance surrounding him, and thus
- disposed of an unusual number of stalls? For even if one is not possessed
- of any dramatic inclinations, one is always ready to pay a price for
- looking at a man who has been saved from a shipwreck, or who has been the
- co-respondent in some notorious law case.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the fellows of the Bayonetteers, who had been indulging in a number
- of surmises regarding Lottie's intentions with respect to Markham,
- heard that the young lady's father had been ordered to proceed to
- Natal without delay, the information seemed to give them a good deal of
- merriment. The man who offered four to one that Lottie should not be able
- to get any lady friend to take charge of her in Cape Town until her father's
- return, could get no one to accept his odds; but his proposal of three to
- one that she would get Markham to accompany her to Natal was eagerly taken
- up; so that there were several remarks made at the mess reflecting upon
- the acuteness of Mr. Markham's perception when it was learned that
- he was going with the young lady and her father.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You see,” remarked the man who had laid the odds, “I
- knew something of Lottie in India, and I knew what she was equal to.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lottie is a devilish smart child, by Jove,” said one of the
- losers meditatively.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, she has probably cut her eye-teeth some years ago,”
- hazarded another subaltern.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a considerable pause before a third of this full bench delivered
- final judgment as the result of the consideration of the case.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor beggar!” he remarked; “poor beggar! he's a
- finished coon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And that Mr. Oswin Markham was, indeed, a man whose career had been
- defined for him by another in the plainest possible manner, no member of
- the mess seemed to doubt.
- </p>
- <p>
- During the first couple of days of the voyage round the coast, when Miss
- Lottie would go to the side of Mr. Markham for the purpose of consulting
- him on some important point of detail in the intended performance, the
- shrewd young fellows of the regiment of Bayonetteers pulled their phantom
- shreds of moustaches, and brought the muscles of their faces about the
- eyes into play to a remarkable extent, with a view of assuring one another
- of the possession of an unusual amount of sagacity by the company to which
- they belonged. But when, after the third day of rehearsals. Lottie's
- manner of gentle persuasiveness towards them altered to nasty bitter
- upbraidings of the young man who had committed the trifling error of
- overlooking an entire scene here and there in working out the character he
- was to bring before the audience, and to a most hurtful glance of scorn at
- the other aspirant who had marked off in the margin of his copy of the
- play all the dialogue he was to speak, but who, unfortunately, had picked
- up a second copy belonging to a young lady in which another part had been
- similarly marked, so that he had, naturally enough, perfected himself in
- the dialogue of the lady's rôle without knowing a letter of his own—when,
- for such trifling slips as these, Lottie was found to be so harsh, the
- deep young fellows made their facial muscles suggest a doubt as to whether
- it might not be possible that Markham was of a sterner and less malleable
- nature then they had at first believed him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The fact was that since Lottie had met with Oswin Markham she had been in
- considerable perplexity of mind. She had found out that he was in by no
- means indigent circumstances; but even with her guileless, careless
- perceptions, she was not long in becoming aware that he was not likely to
- be moulded according to her desires; so, while still behaving in a
- fascinating manner towards him, she had had many agreeable half-hours with
- Mr. Glaston, who was infinitely more plastic, she could see; but so soon
- as the order had come for her father to go up to Natal she had returned in
- thought to Oswin Markham, and had smiled to see the grins upon the
- expressive faces of the officers of the Bayonetteers when she found
- herself by the side of Oswin Markham. She rather liked these grins, for
- she had an idea—in her own simple way, of course—that there is
- a general tendency on the part of young people to associate when their
- names have been previously associated. She knew that the fact of her
- having persuaded this Mr. Markham to accompany her to Natal would cause
- his name to be joined with hers pretty frequently, and in her innocence
- she had no objection to make to this.
- </p>
- <p>
- As for Markham himself, he knew perfectly well what remarks people would
- make on the subject of his departure in the steamer with Lottie Vincent;
- he knew before he had been a day on the voyage that the Bayonetteers
- regarded him as somewhat deficient in firmness; but he felt that there was
- no occasion for him to be utterly broken down in spirit on account of this
- opinion being held by the Bayonetteers. He was not so blind but that he
- caught a glimpse now and again of a facial distortion on the part of a
- member of the company. He felt that it was probable these far-seeing
- fellows would be disappointed at the result of their surmises.
- </p>
- <p>
- And indeed the fellows of the regiment were beginning, before the voyage
- was quite over, to feel that this Mr. Oswin Markham was not altogether of
- the yielding nature which they had ascribed to him on the grounds of his
- having promised Lottie Vincent to accompany her and her father to Natal at
- this time. About Lottie herself there was but one opinion expressed, and
- that was of such a character as any one disposed to ingratiate himself
- with the girl by means of flattery would hardly have hastened to
- communicate to her; for the poor little thing had been so much worried of
- late over the rehearsals which she was daily conducting aboard the
- steamer, that, failing to meet with any expression of sympathy from Oswin
- Markham, she had spoken very freely to some of the company in comment upon
- their dramatic capacity, and not even an amateur actor likes to receive
- unreserved comment of an unfavourable character upon his powers.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is a confounded little humbug,” said one of the
- subalterns to Oswin in confidence on the last day of the voyage. “Hang
- me if I would have had anything to say to this deuced mummery if I had
- known what sort of a girl she was. By George, you should hear the stories
- Kirkham has on his fingers' ends about her in India.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Oswin laughed quietly. “It would be rash, if not cruel, to believe
- all the stories that are told about girls in India,” he said.
- “As for Miss Vincent, I believe her to be a charming girl—as
- an actress.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said the lieutenant, who had not left his grinder on
- English literature long enough to forget all that he had learned of the
- literature of the past century—“yes; she is an actress among
- girls, and a girl among actresses.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good,” said Oswin; “very good. What is it that somebody
- or other remarked about Lord Chesterfield as a wit?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never mind,” said the other, ceasing the laugh he had
- commenced. “What I say about Lottie is true.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXX.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- This world is not for aye, nor'tis not strange
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- That even our loves should with our fortunes change;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- For'tis a question left us yet to prove,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Diseases desperate grown
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- By desperate appliance are relieved,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Or not at all.
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- ... so you must take your husbands.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- It is our trick. Nature her custom holds
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Let shame say what it will: when these are gone
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The woman will be out.—<i>Hamlet.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>F course,”
- said Lottie, as she stood by the side of Oswin Markham when the small
- steamer which had been specially engaged to take the field-officers of the
- Bayonetteers over the dreaded bar of Durban harbour was approaching the
- quay—“of course we shall all go together up to
- Pietermaritzburg. I have been there before, you know. We shall have a
- coach all to ourselves from Durban.” She looked up to his face with
- only the least questioning expression upon her own. But Mr. Markham
- thought that he had made quite enough promises previously: it would be
- unwise to commit himself even in so small a detail as the manner of the
- journey from the port of Durban to the garrison town of Pietermaritzburg,
- which he knew was at a distance of upwards of fifty miles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have not the least idea what I shall do when we land,” he
- said. “It is probable that I shall remain at the port for some days.
- I may as well see all that there is on view in this part of the colony.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was very distressing to the young lady.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you mean to desert me?” she asked somewhat reproachfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Desert you?” he said in a puzzled way. “Ah, those are
- the words in a scene in your part, are they not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lottie became irritated almost beyond the endurance of a naturally patient
- soul.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you mean to leave me to stand alone against all my difficulties,
- Mr. Markham?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should be sorry to do that, Miss Vincent. If you have
- difficulties, tell me what they are; and if they are of such a nature that
- they can be curtailed by me, you may depend upon my exerting myself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know very well what idiots these Bayonetteers are,” cried
- Lottie.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know that most of them have promised to act in your theatricals,”
- replied Markham quietly; and Lottie tried to read his soul in another of
- her glances to discover the exact shade of the meaning of his words, but
- she gave up the quest.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course you can please yourself, Mr. Markham,” she said,
- with a coldness that was meant to appal him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I trust that I may never be led to do so at the expense of
- another,” he remarked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you will come in our coach?” she cried, brightening up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pray do not descend to particulars when we are talking in this
- vague way on broad matters of sentiment, Miss Vincent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I must know what you intend to do at once.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “At once? I intend to go ashore, and try if it is possible to get a
- dinner worth eating. After that—well, this is Tuesday, and on
- Thursday week your entertainment will take place; before that day you say
- you want three rehearsals, then I will agree to be by your side at
- Pietermaritzburg on Saturday next.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This business-like arrangement was not what Lottie on leaving Cape Town
- had meant to be the result of the voyage to Natal. There was a slight
- pause before she asked:
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you mean by treating me in this way? I always thought you
- were my friend. What will papa say if you leave me to go up there alone?”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was a very daring bit of dialogue on the part of Miss Lottie, but
- they were nearing the quay where she knew Oswin would be free; aboard the
- mail steamer of course he was—well, scarcely free. But Mr. Markham
- was one of those men who are least discomfited by a daring stroke. He
- looked steadfastly at the girl so soon as she uttered her words.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The problem is too interesting to be allowed to pass, Miss Vincent,”
- he said. “We shall do our best to have it answered. By Jove, doesn't
- that man on the quay look like Harwood? It is Harwood indeed, and I
- thought him among the Zulus.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The first man caught sight of on the quay was indeed the special
- correspondent of the <i>Dominant Trumpeter</i>. Lottie's manner
- changed instantly on seeing him, and she gave one of her girlish laughs on
- noticing the puzzled expression upon his face as he replied to her
- salutations while yet afar. She was very careful to keep by the side of
- Oswin until the steamer was at the quay; and when at last Harwood
- recognised the features of the two persons who had been saluting him, she
- saw him look with a little smile first to herself, then to Oswin, and she
- thought it prudent to give a small guilty glance downwards and to repeat
- her girlish laugh.
- </p>
- <p>
- Oswin saw Harwood's glance and heard Lottie's laugh. He also
- heard the young lady making an explanation of certain matters, to which
- Harwood answered with a second little smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Kind? Oh, exceedingly kind of him to come so long a distance for
- the sake of assisting you. Nothing could be kinder.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I feel it to be so indeed,” said Miss Vincent. “I feel
- that I can never repay Mr. Markham.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Again that smile came to Mr. Harwood as he said: “Do not take such a
- gloomy view of the matter, my dear Miss Vincent; perhaps on reflection
- some means may be suggested to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What can you mean?” cried the puzzled little thing, tripping
- away.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, Harwood, in spite of your advice to me, you see I am here not
- more than a week behind yourself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you are looking better than I could have believed possible for
- any one in the condition you were in when I left,” said Harwood.
- “Upon my word, I did not expect much from you as I watched you go up
- the stairs at the hotel after that wild ride of yours to and from no place
- in particular. But, of course, there are circumstances under which fellows
- look knocked up, and there are others that combine to make them seem quite
- the contrary; now it seems to me you are subject to the influence of the
- latter just at present.” He glanced as if by accident over to where
- Lottie was making a pleasant little fuss about some articles of her
- luggage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are right,” said Markham—“quite right. I have
- reason to be particularly elated just now, having got free from that
- steamer and my fellow-passengers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, the fellows of the Bayonetteers struck me as being
- particularly good company,” said Harwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And so they were. Now I must look after this precious portmanteau
- of mine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And assist that helpless little creature to look after hers,”
- muttered Harwood when the other had left him. “Poor little Lottie!
- is it possible that you have landed a prize at last? Well, no one will say
- that you don't deserve something for your years of angling.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Harwood felt very charitably inclined just at this instant, for his
- reflections on the behaviour of Markham during the last few days they had
- been at the same hotel at Cape Town had not by any means been quieted
- since they had parted. He was sorry to be compelled to leave Cape Town
- without making any discovery as to the mental condition of Markham. Now,
- however, he knew that Markham had been strong enough to come on to Natal,
- so that the searching out of the problem of his former weakness would be
- as uninteresting as it would be unprofitable. If there should chance to be
- any truth in that vague thought which had been suggested to him as to the
- possibility of Markham having become attached to Daireen Gerald, what did
- it matter now? Here was Markham, having overcome his weakness, whatever it
- may have been, by the side of Lottie Vincent; not indeed appearing to be
- in great anxiety regarding the welfare of the young lady's luggage
- which was being evil-treated, but still by her side, and this made any
- further thought on his behalf unnecessary.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Markham had given his portmanteau into the charge of one of the Natal
- Zulus, and then he turned to Harwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don't mind my asking you what you are doing at Durban
- instead of being at the other side of the Tugela?” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Zulus of this province require to be treated of most carefully
- in the first instance, before the great question of Zulus in their own
- territory can be fully understood by the British public,” replied
- the correspondent. “I am at present making the Zulu of Durban my
- special study. I suppose you will be off at once to Pietermaritzburg?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said Markham. “I intend remaining at Durban to
- study the—the Zulu characteristics for a few days.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But Lottie—I beg your pardon—Miss Vincent is going on
- at once.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a little pause, during which Markham stared blankly at his
- friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What on earth has that got to say to my remaining here?” he
- said.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harwood looked at him and felt that Miss Lottie was right, even on purely
- artistic grounds, in choosing Oswin Markham as one of her actors.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing—nothing of course,” he replied to Markham's
- question.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Miss Lottie had heard more than a word of this conversation. She
- tripped up to Mr. Harwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why don't you make some inquiry about your old friends, you
- most ungrateful of men?” she cried. “Oh, I have such a lot to
- tell you. Dear old Mrs. Crawford was in great grief about your going away,
- you know—oh, such great grief that she was forced to give a picnic
- the second day after you left, for fear we should all have broken down
- utterly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That was very kind of Mrs. Crawford,” said Harwood; “and
- it only remains for me to hope fervently that the required effect was
- produced.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So far as I was concerned, it was,” said Lottie. “But
- it would never do for me to speak for other people.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Other people?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, other people—the charming Miss Gerald, for instance; I
- cannot speak for her, but Mr. Markham certainly can, for he lay at her
- feet during the entire of the afternoon when every one else had wandered
- away up the ravine. Yes, Mr. Markham will tell you to a shade what her
- feelings were upon that occasion. Now, bye-bye. You will come to our
- little entertainment next week, will you not? And you will turn up on
- Saturday for rehearsal?” she added, smiling at Oswin, who was
- looking more stern than amused. “Don't forget—Saturday.
- You should be very grateful for my giving you liberty for so long.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Both men went ashore together without a word; nor did they fall at once
- into a fluent chat when they set out for the town, which was more than two
- miles distant; for Mr. Harwood was thinking out another of the problems
- which seemed to suggest themselves to him daily from the fact of his
- having an acute ear for discerning the shades of tone in which his friends
- uttered certain phrases. He was just now engaged linking fancy unto fancy,
- thinking if it was a little impulse of girlish jealousy, meant only to
- give a mosquito-sting to Oswin Markham, that had caused Miss Lottie
- Vincent to make that reference to Miss Gerald, or if it was a piece of
- real bitterness designed to wound deeply. It was an interesting problem,
- and Mr. Harwood worked at its solution very patiently, weighing all his
- recollections of past words and phrases that might tend to a satisfactory
- result.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the greatest amount of satisfaction was not afforded to Mr. Harwood by
- the pursuit of the intricacies of the question he had set himself to work
- out, but by the reflection that at any rate Markham's being at Natal
- and not within easy riding distance of a picturesque Dutch cottage at
- Mowbray, was a certain good. What did it signify now if Markham had
- previously been too irresolute to tear himself away from the association
- of that cottage? Had he not afterwards proved himself sufficiently strong?
- And if this strength had come to him through any conversation he might
- have had with Miss Gerald on the hillside to which Lottie had alluded, or
- elsewhere, what business was it to anybody? Here was Markham—there
- was Durban, and this was satisfactory. Only—what did Lottie mean
- exactly by that little bit of spitefulness or bitterness?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXI.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent10">
- <i>Polonius</i>. The actors are come hither, my lord.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- <i>Hamlet</i>. Buz, buz.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- <i>Polonius</i>. Upon my honour.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- <i>Hamlet. Then came each actor on his ass.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- <i>Polonious</i>. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy,
- comedy, history, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, scene individable
- or poem unlimited... these are the only men.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Being thus benetted round with villanies,—
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Or I could make a prologue to my brains,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- They had begun the play,—I sat me down.
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- ... Wilt thou know
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The effect...?—<i>Hamlet</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">U</span>PON the evening of
- the Thursday week after the arrival of that steamer with two companies of
- the Bayonetteers at Durban, the town of Pietermaritzburg was convulsed
- with the prospect of the entertainment that was to take place in its
- midst, for Miss Lottie Vincent had not passed the preceding week in a
- condition of dramatic abstraction. She was by no means so wrapped up in
- the part she had undertaken to represent as to be unable to give the
- necessary attention to the securing of an audience.
- </p>
- <p>
- It would seem to a casual <i>entrepreneur</i> visiting Pietermaritzburg
- that a large audience might be assured for an entertainment possessing
- even the minimum of attractiveness, for the town appears to be of an
- immense size—that is, for a South African town. The colonial Romulus
- and Remus have shown at all times very lordly notions on the subject of
- boundaries, and, being subject to none of those restrictions as to the
- cost of every square foot of territory which have such a cramping
- influence upon the founders of municipalities at home, they exercise their
- grand ideas in the most extensive way. The streets of an early colonial
- town are broad roads, and the spaces between the houses are so great as
- almost to justify the criticism of those narrow-minded visitors who call
- the town straggling. At one time Pietermaritzburg may have been
- straggling, but it certainly did not strike Oswin Markham as being so when
- he saw it now for the first time on his arrival. He felt that it had got
- less of a Dutch look about it than Cape Town, and though that towering and
- overshadowing impression which Table Mountain gives to Cape Town was
- absent, yet the circle of hills about Pietermaritzburg seemed to him—and
- his fancy was not particularly original—to give the town almost that
- nestling appearance which by tradition is the natural characteristic of an
- English village.
- </p>
- <p>
- But if an <i>entrepreneur</i> should calculate the probable numerical
- value of an audience in Pietermaritzburg from a casual walk through the
- streets, he would find that his assumption had been founded upon an
- erroneous basis. The streets are long and in fact noble, but the
- inhabitants available for fulfilling the duties of an audience at a
- dramatic entertainment are out of all proportion few. Two difficulties are
- to be contended with in making up audiences in South Africa: the first is
- getting the people in, and the second is keeping people out. As a rule the
- races of different colour do not amalgamate with sufficient ease to allow
- of a mixed audience being pervaded with a common sympathy. A white man
- seated between a Hottentot and a Kafir will scarcely be brought to admit
- that he has had a pleasant evening, even though the performance on the
- stage is of a choice character. A single Zulu will make his presence
- easily perceptible in a room full of white people, even though he should
- remain silent and in a secluded corner; while a Hottentot, a Kafir, and a
- Zulu constitute a <i>bouquet d'Afrique</i>, the savour of which is
- apt to divert the attention of any one in their neighbourhood from the
- realistic effect of a garden scene upon the stage.
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss Lottie, being well aware that the audience-forming material in the
- town was small in proportion to the extent of the streets, set herself
- with her usual animation about the task of disposing of the remaining
- tickets. She fancied that she understood something of the system to be
- pursued with success amongst the burghers. She felt it to be her duty to
- pay a round of visits to the houses where she had been intimate in the
- days of her previous residence at the garrison; and she contrived to
- impress upon her friends that the ties of old acquaintance should be
- consolidated by the purchase of a number of her tickets. She visited
- several families who, she knew, had been endeavouring for a long time to
- work themselves into the military section of the town's society, and
- after hinting to them that the officers of the Bayonetteers would remain
- in the lowest spirits until they had made the acquaintance of the
- individual members of each of those families, she invariably disposed of a
- ticket to the individual member whose friendship was so longed for at the
- garrison. As for the tradesmen of the town, she managed without any
- difficulty, or even without forgetting her own standing, to make them
- aware of the possible benefits that would accrue to the business of the
- town under the patronage of the officers of the Bayonetteers; and so,
- instead of having to beg of the tradesmen to support the deserving charity
- on account of which she was taking such a large amount of trouble, she
- found herself thanked for the permission she generously accorded to these
- worthy men to purchase places for the evening.
- </p>
- <p>
- She certainly deserved well of the deserving charity, and the old
- field-officers, who rolled their eyes and pulled their moustaches,
- recollecting the former labours of Miss Lottie, had got as imperfect a
- knowledge of the proportions of her toil and reward as the less
- good-natured of their wives who alluded to the trouble she was taking as
- if it was not wholly disinterested. Lottie certainly took a vast amount of
- trouble, and if Oswin Markham only appeared at the beginning of each
- rehearsal and left at the conclusion, the success of the performance was
- not at all jeopardised by his action.
- </p>
- <p>
- For the entire week preceding the evening of the performance little else
- was talked about in all sections of Maritzburgian society but the
- prospects of its success. The ladies in the garrison were beginning to be
- wearied of the topic of theatricals, and the colonel of the Bayonetteers
- was heard to declare that he would not submit any longer to have the
- regimental parades only half-officered day by day, and that the plea of
- dramatic study would be insufficient in future to excuse an absentee. But
- this vigorous action was probably accelerated by the report that reached
- him of a certain lieutenant, who had only four lines to speak in the play,
- having escaped duty for the entire week on the grounds of the necessity
- for dramatic study.
- </p>
- <p>
- At last the final nail was put in the fastenings of the scenery on the
- stage, which a number of the Royal Engineers, under the guidance of two
- officers and a clerk of the works, had erected; the footlights were after
- considerable difficulty coaxed into flame. The officers of the garrison
- and their wives made an exceedingly good front row in the stalls, and a
- number of the sergeants and privates filled up the back seats, ready to
- applaud, without reference to their merits at the performance, their
- favourite officers when they should appear on the stage; the intervening
- seats were supposed to be booked by the general audience, and their
- punctuality of attendance proved that Lottie's labours had not been
- in vain.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Harwood having tired of Durban, had been some days in the town, and he
- walked from the hotel with Markham; for Mr. Markham, though the part he
- was to play was one of most importance in the drama, did not think it
- necessary to hang about the stage for the three hours preceding the
- lifting of the curtain, as most of the Bayonetteers who were to act
- believed to be prudent. Harwood took a seat in the second row of stalls,
- for he had promised Lottie and one of the other young ladies who was in
- the cast, to give each of them a candid opinion upon their
- representations. For his own part he would have preferred giving his
- opinion before seeing the representations, for he knew what a strain would
- be put upon his candour after they were over.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the orchestra—which was a great feature of the performance—struck
- up an overture, the stage behind the curtain was crowded with figures in
- top-boots and with noble hats encircled with ostrich feathers—the
- element of brigandage entering largely into the construction of the drama
- of the evening. Each of the figures carried a small pamphlet which he
- studied every now and again, for in spite of the many missed parades, a
- good deal of uncertainty as to the text of their parts pervaded the minds
- of the histrionic Bayonetteers. Before the last notes of the overture had
- crashed, Lottie Vincent, radiant in pearl powder and pencilled eyebrows,
- wearing a plain muslin dress and white satin shoes, her fair hair with a
- lovely white rose shining amongst its folds, tripped out. Her character in
- the first act being that of a simple village maiden, she was dressed with
- becoming consistency, every detail down to those white satin shoes being,
- of course, in keeping with the ordinary attire of simple village maidens
- wherever civilisation has spread.
- </p>
- <p>
- “For goodness' sake leave aside your books,” she said to
- the young men as she came forward. “Do you mean to bring them out
- with you and read from them? Surely after ten rehearsals you might be
- perfect.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hang me, if I haven't a great mind not to appear at all in
- this rot,” said one of the gentlemen in the top-boots to his
- companions. He had caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror a minute
- previously and he did not like the picture. “If it was not for the
- sake of the people who have come I'd cut the whole affair.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She has done nothing but bully,” remarked a second of these
- desperadoes in top-boots.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All because that fellow Markham has shown himself to be no idiot,”
- said a third.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Count Rodolph loves her, but I'll spare him not: he dies
- to-night,” remarked another, but he was only refreshing his memory
- on the dialogue he was to speak.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the gentleman who was acting as prompter saw that the stage was
- cleared, he gave the signal for the orchestra to play the curtain up. At
- the correct moment, and with a perfection of stage management that would
- have been creditable to any dramatic establishment in the world, as one of
- the Natal newspapers a few days afterwards remarked with great justice,
- the curtain was raised, and an excellent village scene was disclosed to
- the enthusiastic audience. Two of the personages came on at once, and so
- soon as their identity was clearly established, the soldiers began to
- applaud, which was doubtless very gratifying to the two officers, from a
- regimental standpoint, though it somewhat interfered with the progress of
- the scene. The prompter, however, hastened to the aid of the young men who
- had lost themselves in that whirlwind of applause, and the dialogue began
- to run easily.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lottie had made for herself a little loophole in the back drop-scene
- through which she observed the audience. She saw that the place was
- crowded to the doors—English-speaking and Dutch-speaking burghers
- were in the central seats; she smiled as she noticed the aspirants to
- garrison intimacies crowding up as close as possible to the officers'
- wives in the front row, and she wondered if it would be necessary to
- acknowledge any of them for longer than a week. Then she saw Harwood with
- the faintest smile imaginable upon his face, as the young men on the stage
- repeated the words of their parts without being guilty either of the
- smallest mistake or the least dramatic spirit; and this time she wondered
- if, when she would be going through her part and she would look towards
- Harwood, she should find the same sort of smile upon his face. She rather
- thought not. Then, as the time for her call approached, she hastened round
- to her entrance, waiting until the poor stuff the two young men were
- speaking came to an end; then, not a second past her time, she entered,
- demure and ingenuous as all village maidens in satin slippers must surely
- be.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was not disappointed in her reception by the audience. The ladies in
- the front stalls who had spoken, it might be, unkindly of her in private,
- now showed their good nature in public, and the field officers forgot all
- the irregularities she had caused in the regiment and welcomed her
- heartily; while the tradesmen in the middle rows made their applause a
- matter of business. The village maiden with the satin shoes smiled in the
- timid, fluttered, dovelike way that is common amongst the class, and then
- went on with her dialogue. She felt altogether happy, for she knew that
- the young lady who was to appear in the second scene could not possibly
- meet with such an expression of good feeling as she had obtained from the
- audience.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now the play might be said to have commenced in earnest. It was by no
- means a piece of French frivolity, this drama, but a genuine work of
- English art as it existed thirty years ago, and it was thus certain to
- commend itself to the Pietermaritzburghers who liked solidity even when it
- verged upon stolidity.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Throne or Spouse</i> was the title of the play, and if its incidents
- were somewhat improbable and its details utterly impossible, it was not
- the less agreeable to the audience. The two young men who had appeared in
- top-boots on the village green had informed each other, the audience
- happily overhearing, that they had been out hunting with a certain Prince,
- and that they had got separated from their companions.
- </p>
- <p>
- They embraced the moment as opportune for the discussion of a few court
- affairs, such as the illness ot the monarch, and the Prince's
- prospects of becoming his successor, and then they thought it would be as
- well to try and find their way back to the court; so off they went. Then
- Miss Vincent came on the village green and reminded herself that her name
- was Marie and that she was a simple village maiden; she also recalled the
- fact that she lived alone with her mother in Yonder Cottage. It seemed to
- give her considerable satisfaction to reflect that, though poor, she was,
- and she took it upon her to say that her mother was also, strictly
- virtuous, and she wished to state in the most emphatic terms that though
- she was wooed by a certain Count Rodolph, yet, as she did not love him,
- she would never be his. Lottie was indeed very emphatic at this part, and
- her audience applauded her determination as Marie. Curiously enough, she
- had no sooner expressed herself in this fashion than one of the
- Bayonetteers entered, and at the sight of him Lottie called out, “Ah,
- he is here! Count Rodolph!” This the audience felt was a piece of
- subtle constructive art on the part of the author. Then the new actor
- replied, “Yes, Count Rodolph is here, sweet Marie, where he would
- ever be, by the side of the fairest village maiden,” etc.
- </p>
- <p>
- The new actor was attired in one of the broad hats of the period—whatever
- it may have been—with a long ostrich feather. He had an immense
- black moustache, and his eyebrows were exceedingly heavy. He also wore
- top-boots, a long sword, and a black cloak, one fold of which he now and
- again threw over his left shoulder when it worked its way down his arm. It
- was not surprising that further on in the drama the Count was found to be
- a dissembler; his costume fostered any proclivities in this way that might
- otherwise have remained dormant.
- </p>
- <p>
- The village maiden begged to know why the Count persecuted her with his
- attentions, and he replied that he did so on account of his love for her.
- She then assured him that she could never bring herself to look on him
- with favour; and this naturally drew from him the energetic declaration of
- his own passion for her. He concluded by asking her to be his: she cried
- with emphasis, “Never!” He repeated his application, and again
- she cried “Never!” and told him to begone. “You shall be
- mine,” he cried, catching her by the arm. “Wretch, leave me,”
- she said, in all her village-maiden dignity; he repeated his assertion,
- and clasped her round the waist with ardour. Then she shrieked for help,
- and a few simple villagers rushed hurriedly on the stage, but the Count
- drew his sword and threatened with destruction any one who might advance.
- The simple villagers thought it prudent to retire. “Ha! now, proud
- Marie, you are in my power,” said the Count. “Is there no one
- to save me?” shrieked Marie. “Yes, here is some one who will
- save you or perish in the attempt,” came a voice from the wings, and
- with an agitation pervading the sympathetic orchestra, a respectable young
- man in a green hunting-suit with a horn by his side and a drawn sword in
- his hand, rushed on, and was received with an outburst of applause from
- the audience who, in Pietermaritzburg, as in every place else, are ever on
- the side of virtue. This new actor was Oswin Markham, and it seemed that
- Lottie's stories regarding the romance associated with his
- appearance were successful, for not only was there much applause, but a
- quiet hum of remark was heard amongst the front stalls, and it was some
- moments before the business of the stage could be proceeded with.
- </p>
- <p>
- So soon as he was able to speak, the Count wished to know who was the
- intruder that dared to face one of the nobles of the land, and the
- intruder replied in general terms, dwelling particularly upon the fact
- that only those were noble who behaved nobly. He expressed an inclination
- to fight with the Count, but the latter declined to gratify him on account
- of the difference there was between their social standing, and he left the
- stage saying, “Farewell, proud beauty, we shall meet again.”
- Then he turned to the stranger, and, laying his hand on his sword-hilt
- after he had thrown his cloak over his shoulder, he cried, “We too
- shall meet again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The stranger then made some remarks to himself regarding the manner in
- which he was stirred by Marie's beauty. He asked her who she was,
- and she replied, truthfully enough, that she was a simple village maiden,
- and that she lived in Yonder Cottage. He then told her that he was a
- member of the Prince's retinue, and that he had lost his way at the
- hunt; and he begged the girl to conduct him to Yonder Cottage. The girl
- expressed her pleasure at being able to show him some little attention,
- but she remarked that the stranger would find Yonder Cottage very humble.
- She assured him, however, of the virtue of herself, and again went so far
- as to speak for her mother. The stranger then made a nice little speech
- about the constituents of true nobility, and went out with Marie as the
- curtain fell.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next scene was laid in Yonder Cottage; the virtuous mother being
- discovered knitting, and whiling away the time by talking to herself of
- the days when she was nurse to the late Queen. Then Marie and the stranger
- entered, and there was a pleasant family party in Yonder Cottage. The
- stranger was evidently struck with Marie, and the scene ended by his
- swearing to make her his wife. The next act showed the stranger in his
- true character as the Prince; his royal father has heard of his attachment
- to Marie, and not being an enthusiast on the subject of simple village
- maidens becoming allied to the royal house, he threatens to cut off the
- entail of the kingdom—which it appeared he had power to do—if
- the Prince does not relinquish Marie, and he dies leaving a clause in his
- will to this effect.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Prince rushes to Yonder Cottage—hears that Marie is carried off
- by the Count—rescues her—marries her—and then the
- virtuous mother confesses that the Prince is her own child, and Marie is
- the heiress to the throne. No one appeared to dispute the story—Marie
- is consequently Queen and her husband King, having through his proper
- treatment of the girl gained the kingdom; and the curtain falls on general
- happiness, Count Rodolph having committed suicide.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing could have been more successful,” said Lottie, all
- tremulous with excitement, to Oswin, as they went off together amid a
- tumult of applause, which was very sweet to her ears.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think it went off very well indeed,” said Oswin. “Your
- acting was perfection, Miss Vincent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Call me Marie,” she said playfully. “But we must really
- go before the curtain; hear how they are applauding.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think we have had enough of it,” said Oswin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come along,” she cried; “I dislike it above all things,
- but there is nothing for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The call for Lottie and Oswin was determined, so after the soldiers had
- called out their favourite officers, Oswin brought the girl forward, and
- the enthusiasm was very great. Lottie then went off, and for a few moments
- Markham remained alone upon the stage. He was most heartily applauded,
- and, after acknowledging the compliment, he was just stepping back, when
- from the centre of the seats a man's voice came, loud and clear:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bravo, old boy! you're a trump wherever you turn up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a general moving of heads, and some laughter in the front rows.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Oswin Markham looked from where he was standing on the stage down to
- the place whence that voice seemed to come. He neither laughed nor smiled,
- only stepped back behind the curtain.
- </p>
- <p>
- The stage was now crowded with the actors and their friends; everybody was
- congratulating everybody else. Lottie was in the highest spirits.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Could anything have been more successful?” she cried again to
- Oswin Markham. He looked at her without answering for some moments.
- “I don't know,” he said at last. “Successful?
- perhaps so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What on earth do you mean?” she asked; “are you afraid
- of the Natal critics?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, I can't say I am.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of what then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is a person at the door who wishes to speak to you, Mr.
- Markham,” said one of the servants coming up to Oswin. “He
- says he doesn't carry cards, but you will see his name here,”
- and he handed Oswin an envelope.
- </p>
- <p>
- Oswin Markham read the name on the envelope and crushed it into his
- pocket, saying to the servant:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Show the—gentleman up to the room where I dressed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So Miss Lottie did not become aware of the origin of Mr. Markham's
- doubt as to the success of the great drama <i>Throne or Spouse</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXII.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent10">
- Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do surely bar the door
- upon your own liberty if you deny your griefs to your friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- ... tempt him with speed aboard;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Indeed this counsellor
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Is now most still, most secret, and most grave,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Who was in life a foolish prating knave.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- This sudden sending him away must seem
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Deliberate.—<i>Hamlet.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>N the room where
- he had assumed the dress of the part he had just played, Oswin Markham was
- now standing idle, and without making any attempt to remove the colour
- from his face or the streaks from his eyebrows. He was still in the dress
- of the Prince when the door was opened and a man entered the room eagerly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By Jingo! yes, I thought you'd see me,” he cried before
- he had closed the door. All the people outside—and there were a good
- many—who chanced to hear the tone of the voice knew that the speaker
- was the man who had shouted those friendly words when Oswin was leaving
- the stage. “Yes, old fellow,” he continued, slapping Markham
- on the back and grasping him by the hand, “I thought I might venture
- to intrude upon you. Right glad I was to see you, though, by heavens! I
- thought I should have shouted out when I saw you—you, of all people,
- here. Tell us how it comes, Oswin. How the deuce do you appear at this
- place? Why, what's the matter with you? Have you talked so much in
- that tall way on the boards that you haven't a word left to say
- here? You weren't used to be dumb in the good old days—-good
- old nights, my boy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You won't give me a chance,” said Oswin; and he did not
- even smile in response to the other's laughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There then, I've dried up,” said the stranger. “But,
- by my soul, I tell you I'm glad to see you. It seems to me, do you
- know, that I'm drunk now, and that when I sleep off the fit you'll
- be gone. I've fancied queer things when I've been drunk, as
- you well know. But it's you yourself, isn't it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “One need have no doubt about your identity,” said Oswin.
- “You talk in the same infernally muddled way that ever Harry Despard
- used to talk.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's like yourself, my boy,” cried the man, with a
- loud laugh. “I'm beginning to feel that it's you indeed,
- though you are dressed up like a Prince—by heavens! you played the
- part well. I couldn't help shouting out what I did for a lark. I
- wondered what you'd think when you heard my voice. But how did you
- manage to turn up at Natal? tell me that. You left us to go up country,
- didn't you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's a long story,” replied Oswin. “Very long,
- and I am bound to change this dress. I can't go about in this
- fashion for ever.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No more you can,” said the other. “And the sooner you
- get rid of those togs the better, for by God, it strikes me that they give
- you a wrong impression about yourself. You're not so hearty by a
- long way as you used to be. I'll tell you what I'll do; I'll
- go on to the hotel and wait there until you are in decent rig. I'll
- only be in this town until to-morrow evening, and we must have a night
- together.”
- </p>
- <p>
- For the first time since the man had entered the room Oswin brightened up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only till to-morrow night, Hal?” he cried. “Then we
- must have a few jolly hours together before we part. I won't let you
- even go to the hotel now. Stay here while I change, like a decent fellow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now that sounds like your old form, my boy; hang me if I don't
- stay with you. Is that a flask in the portmanteau? It is, by Jingo, and if
- it's not old Irish may I be—and cigars too. Yes, I will stay,
- old fellow, for auld langsyne. This is like auld langsyne, isn't it?
- Why, where are you off to?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have to give a message to some one in another room,” said
- Oswin, leaving the man alone. He was a tall man, apparently about the same
- age as Markham. So much of his face as remained unconcealed by a shaggy,
- tawny beard and whiskers was bronzed to a copper colour. His hair was
- short and tawny, and his mouth was very coarse. His dress was not shabby,
- but the largeness of the check on the pattern scarcely argued the
- possession of a subdued taste on the part of the wearer.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had seated himself upon a table in the room though there were plenty of
- chairs, and when Oswin went out he filled the flask cup and emptied it
- with a single jerk of his head; then he snatched up the hat which had been
- worn by Oswin on the stage; he threw it into the air and caught it on one
- of his feet, then with a laugh he kicked it across the floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Oswin had gone to the room where Captain Howard, who had acted as
- stage manager, was smoking after the labours of the evening. “Howard,”
- Said Markham, “I must be excused from your supper to-night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nonsense,” said Howard. “It would be too ridiculous for
- us to have a supper if you who have done the most work to-night should be
- away. What's the matter? Have you a doctor's certificate?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The fact is a—a—sort of friend of mine—a man I
- knew pretty intimately some time ago, has turned up here most
- unexpectedly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then bring your sort of friend with you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite impossible,” said Markham quickly. “He is not the
- kind of man who would make the supper agreeable either to himself or to
- any one else. You will explain to the other fellows how I am compelled to
- be away.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you'll turn up some time in the course of the night, won't
- you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am afraid to say I shall. The fact is, my friend requires a good
- deal of attention to be given to him in the course of a friendly night. If
- I can manage to clear myself of him in decent time I'll be with you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must manage it,” said Howard as Oswin went back to the
- room, where he found his friend struggling to pull on the green doublet in
- which the Prince had appeared in the opening scene of the play.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hang me if I couldn't do the part like one o'clock,”
- he cried; “the half of it is in the togs. You weren't loud
- enough, Oswin, when you came on; you wouldn't have brought down the
- gods even at Ballarat. This is how you should have done it: 'I'll
- save you or——'”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For Heaven's sake don't make a fool of yourself, Hal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was only going to show you how it should be done to rouse the
- people; and as for making a fool of myself——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have done that so often you think it not worth the caution.
- Come now, stuff those things into the portmanteau, and I'll have on
- my mufti in five minutes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then off to the hotel, and you bet your pile, as we used to say
- at Chokeneck Gulch, we'll have more than a pint bottle of Bass. By
- the way, how about your bronze; does the good old governor still stump up?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My allowance goes regularly to Australia,” said Os win, with
- a stern look coming to his face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And where else should it go, my boy? By the way, that's a
- tidy female that showed what neat ankles she had as Marie. By my soul, I
- envied you squeezing her. 'What right has he to squeeze her?'
- I said to myself, and then I thought if——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you haven't told me how you came here,” said Oswin,
- interrupting him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No more I did. It's easily told, my lad. It was getting too
- warm for me in Melbourne, and as I had still got some cash I thought I'd
- take a run to New York city—at least that's what I made up my
- mind to do when I awoke one fine morning in the cabin of the <i>Virginia</i>
- brig a couple of hundred miles from Cape Howe. I remembered going into a
- saloon one evening and finding a lot of men giving general shouts, but
- beyond that I had no idea of anything.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's your usual form,” said Oswin. “So you are
- bound for New York?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, the skipper of the <i>Virginia</i> had made Natal one of his
- ports, and there we put in yesterday, so I ran up to this town, under what
- you would call an inspiration, or I wouldn't be here now ready to
- slip the tinsel from as many bottles of genuine Moët as you choose to
- order. But you—what about yourself?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am here, my Hal, to order as many bottles as you can slip the
- tinsel off,” cried Oswin, his face flushed more deeply than when it
- had been rouged before the footlights.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Spoken in your old form, by heavens!” cried the other,
- leaping from the table. “You always were a gentleman amongst us, and
- you never failed us in the matter of drink. Hang me if I don't let
- the <i>Virginia</i> brig—go—to—to New York without me; I'll
- stay here in company of my best friend.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come along,” said Oswin, leaving the room. “Whether you
- go or stay we'll have a night of it at the hotel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They passed out together and walked up to the hotel, hearing all the white
- population discussing the dramatic performance of the evening, for it had
- created a considerable stir in the town. There was no moon, but the stars
- were sparkling over the dark blue of the hills that almost encircle the
- town. Tall Zulus stood, as they usually do after dark, talking at the
- corners in their emphatic language, while here and there smaller white men
- speaking Cape Dutch passed through the streets smoking their native
- cigars.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just what you would find in Melbourne or in the direction of
- Geelong, isn't it, Oswin?” said the stranger, who had his arm
- inside Markham's.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, with a few modifications,” said Oswin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, hang it all, man,” cried the other. “You aren't
- getting sentimental, are you? A fellow would think from the way you've
- been talking in that low, hollow, parson's tone that you weren't
- glad I turned up. If you're not, just say so. You won't need
- to give Harry Despard a nod after you've given him a wink.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What an infernal fool you do make of yourself,” said Oswin.
- “You know that I'm glad to have you beside me again, old
- fellow,—yes, devilish glad. Confound it, man, do you fancy I've
- no feeling—no recollection? Haven't we stood by each other in
- the past, and won't we do it in the future?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We will, by heavens, my lad! and hang me if I don't smash
- anything that comes on the table tonight except the sparkling. And look
- here, the <i>Virginia</i> brig may slip her cable and be off to New York.
- I'll stand by you while you stay here, my boy. Yes, say no more, my
- mind is made up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Spoken like a man!” cried Oswin, with a sudden start. “Spoken
- like a man! and here we are at the hotel. We'll have one of our old
- suppers together, Hal——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Or perish in the attempt,” shouted the other.
- </p>
- <p>
- The stranger went upstairs, while Oswin remained below to talk to the
- landlord about some matters that occupied a little time.
- </p>
- <p>
- Markham and Harwood had a sitting-room for their exclusive use in the
- hotel, but it was not into this room that Oswin brought his guest, it was
- into another apartment at a different quarter of the house. The stranger
- threw his hat into a corner and himself down upon a sofa with his legs
- upon a chair that he had tilted back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now we'll have a general shout,” he said. “Ask
- all the people in the house what they'll drink. If you acted the
- Prince on the stage to-night, I'll act the part here now. I've
- got the change of a hundred samples of the Sydney mint, and I want to ease
- myself of them. Yes, we'll have a general shout.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A general shout in a Dutchman's house? My boy, this isn't
- a Ballarat saloon,” said Oswin. “If we hinted such a thing we'd
- be turned into the street. Here is a bottle of the sparkling by way of
- opening the campaign.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll open the champagne and you open the campaign, good! The
- sight of you, Oswin, old fellow—well, it makes me feel that life is
- a joke. Fill up your glass and we'll drink to the old times. And now
- tell me all about yourself. How did you light here, and what do you mean
- to do? Have you had another row in the old quarter?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Oswin had drained his glass of champagne and had stretched himself upon
- the second sofa. His face seemed pale almost to ghastliness, as persons'
- faces do after the use of rouge. He gave a short laugh when the other had
- spoken.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wait till after supper,” he cried. “I haven't a
- word to throw to a dog until after supper.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Curse that Prince and his bluster on the stage; you're as
- hoarse as a rook now, Oswin,” remarked the stranger.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a brief space the curried crayfish and penguins' eggs, which form
- the opening dishes of a Cape supper, appeared; and though Oswin's
- friend seemed to have an excellent appetite, Markham himself scarcely ate
- anything. It did not, however, appear that the stranger's comfort
- was wholly dependent upon companionship. He ate and drank and talked
- loudly whether Oswin fasted or remained mute; but when the supper was
- removed and he lighted a cigar, he poured out half a bottle of champagne
- into a tumbler, and cried:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, my gallant Prince, give us all your eventful history since you
- left Melbourne five months ago, saying you were going up country. Tell us
- how you came to this place, whatever its infernal Dutch name is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And Oswin Markham, sitting at the table, told him.
- </p>
- <p>
- But while this <i>tète-à-tète</i> supper was taking place at the hotel,
- the messroom of the Bayonetteers was alight, and the regimental cook had
- excelled himself in providing dishes that were wholly English, without the
- least colonial flavour, for the officers and their guests, among whom was
- Harwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- Captain Howard's apology for Markham was not freely accepted, more
- especially as Markham did not put in an appearance during the entire of
- the supper. Harwood was greatly surprised at his absence, and the story of
- a friend having suddenly turned up he rejected as a thing devised as an
- excuse. He did not return to the hotel until late—more than an hour
- past midnight. He paused outside the hotel door for some moments, hearing
- the sound of loud laughter and a hoarse voice singing snatches of
- different songs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is the noisy party upstairs?” he asked of the man who
- opened the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is Mr. Markham and his friend, sir. They have taken supper
- together,” said the servant.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harwood did not express the surprise he felt. He took his candle, and went
- to his own room, and, as he smoked a cigar before going to bed, he heard
- the intermittent sounds of the laughter and the singing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall have a talk with this old friend of Mr. Markham's in
- the morning,” he said, after he had stated another of his problems
- to sleep over.
- </p>
- <p>
- Markham and he had been accustomed to breakfast together in their
- sitting-room since they had come up from Durban; but when Harwood awoke
- the next morning, and came in to breakfast, he found only one cup upon the
- table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why is there not a cup for Mr. Markham?” he asked of the
- servant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Markham, sir, left with his friend for Durban at four o'clock
- this morning,” said the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, for Durban?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, sir. Mr. Markham had ordered a Cape cart and team to be here
- at that time. I thought you might have awakened as they were leaving.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, I did not,” said Mr. Harwood quietly; and the servant
- left the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here was something additional for the special correspondent of the <i>Dominant
- Trumpeter</i> to ponder over and reduce to the terms of a problem. He
- reflected upon his early suspicions of Oswin Markham. Had he not even
- suggested that Markham's name was probably something very different
- from what he had called himself? Mr. Harwood knew well that men have a
- curious tendency to call themselves by the names of the persons to whom
- bank orders are made payable, and he believed that such a subtle sympathy
- might exist between the man who had been picked up at sea and the document
- that was found in his possession. Yes, Mr. Harwood felt that his instincts
- were not perhaps wholly in error regarding Mr. Oswin Markham, cleverly
- though he had acted the part of the Prince in that stirring drama on the
- previous evening.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the afternoon of the following day, however, Oswin Markham entered the
- hotel at Pietermaritzburg and walked into the room where Harwood was
- working up a letter for his newspaper, descriptive of life among the
- Zulus.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good heavens!” cried the “special,” starting up;
- “I did not expect you back so soon. Why, you could only have stayed
- a few hours at the port.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was enough for me,” said Oswin, a smile lighting up his
- pale face; “quite enough for me. I only waited to see the vessel
- with my friend aboard safely over the bar. Then I returned.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You went away from here in something of a hurry, did you not,
- Markham?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Oswin laughed as he threw himself into a chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, something of a hurry. My friend is—let us say,
- eccentric. We left without going to bed the night before last. Never mind,
- Harwood, old fellow; he is gone, and here I am now, ready for anything you
- propose—an excursion across the Tugela or up to the Transvaal—anywhere—anywhere—I'm
- free now and myself again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Free?” said Harwood curiously. “What do you mean by
- free?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Oswin looked at him mutely for a moment, then he laughed, saying:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Free—yes, free from that wretched dramatic affair. Thank
- Heaven, it's off my mind!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXIII.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent10">
- <i>Horatio</i>. My lord, the King your father.
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- <i>Hamlet</i>. The King—my father?
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- <i>Horatio</i>. Season your admiration for a while.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- In what particular thought to work I know not;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- But in the gross and scope of mine opinion
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- This bodes some strange eruption to our state.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Our last King,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Whose image even but now appear'd to us,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- ... by a sealed compact
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Did forfeit... all those his lands
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- <i>Hamlet.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>Y son,” said
- The Macnamara, “you ought to be ashamed of your threatment of your
- father. The like of your threatment was never known in the family of the
- Macnamaras, or, for that matter, of the O'Dermots. A stain has been
- thrown upon the family that centuries can't wash out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is no stain either upon myself or our family for me to have set
- out to do some work in the world,” said Standish proudly, for he
- felt capable of maintaining the dignity of labour. “I told you that
- I would not pass my life in the idleness of Innishdermot. I—————-”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's too much for me, Standish O'Dermot Macnamara—to
- hear you talk lightly of Innishdermot is too much for the blood of the
- representative of the ancient race. Don't, my boy, don't.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't talk lightly of it; when you told me it was gone from
- us I felt it as deeply as any one could feel it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's one more wrong added to the grievances of our thrampled
- counthry,” cried the hereditary monarch of the islands with fervour.
- “And yet you have never sworn an oath to be revenged. You even tell
- me that you mean to be in the pay of the nation that has done your family
- this wrong—that has thrampled The Macnamara into the dust. This is
- the bitterest stroke of all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have told you all,” said Standish. “Colonel Gerald
- was kinder to me than words could express. He is going to England in two
- months, but only to remain a week, and then he will leave for the Castaway
- Islands. He has already written to have my appointment as private
- secretary confirmed, and I shall go at once to have everything ready for
- his arrival. It's not much I can do, God knows, but what I can do I
- will for him. I'll work my best.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, this is bitter—bitter—to hear a Macnamara talk of
- work; and just now, too, when the money has come to us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't want the money,” said Standish indignantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ye're right, my son, so far. What signifies fifteen thousand
- pounds when the feelings of an ancient family are outraged?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I can't understand how those men had power to take the
- land, if you did not wish to give it to them, for their railway and their
- hotel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's more of the oppression, my son—more of the
- thrampling of our counthry into the dust. I rejected their offers with
- scorn at first; but I found out that they could get power from the
- oppressors of our counthry to buy every foot of the ground at the price
- put on it by a man they call an arbithrator—so between thraitors and
- arbithrators I knew I couldn't hold out. With tears in my eyes I
- signed the papers, and now all the land from the mouth of Suangorm to
- Innishdermot is in the hands of the English company—all but the
- castle—thank God they couldn't wrest that from me. If you'd
- only been by me, Standish, I would have held out against them all; but
- think of the desolate old man sitting amongst the ruins of his home and
- the tyrants with the gold—I could do nothing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then you came out here. Well, father, I'm glad to see
- you, and Colonel Gerald will be so too, and—Daireen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aye,” said The Macnamara. “Daireen is here too. And
- have you been talking to the lovely daughter of the Geralds, my boy? Have
- you been confessing all you confessed to me, on that bright day at
- Innishdermot? Have you——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look here, father,” said Standish sternly; “you must
- never allude to anything that you forced me to say then. It was a dream of
- mine, and now it is past.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can hold your head higher than that now, my boy,” said
- The Macnamara proudly. “You're not a beggar now, Standish;
- money's in the family.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As if money could make any difference,” said Standish.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It makes all the difference in the world, my boy,” said The
- Macnamara; but suddenly recollecting his principles, he added, “That
- is, to some people; but a Macnamara without a penny might aspire to the
- hand of the noblest in the land. Oh, here she comes—the bright
- snowdhrop of Glenmara—the arbutus-berry of Craig-Innish; and her
- father too—oh, why did he turn to the Saxons?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Macnamara, Prince of Innishdermot, Chief of the Islands and Lakes, and
- King of all Munster, was standing with his son in the coffee-room of the
- hotel, having just come ashore from the steamer that had brought him out
- to the Cape. The patriot had actually left his land for the first time in
- his life, and had proceeded to the colony in search of his son, and he
- found his son waiting for him at the dock gates.
- </p>
- <p>
- That first letter which Standish received from his father had indeed been
- very piteous, and if the young man had not been so resolute in his
- determination to work, he would have returned to Innishdermot once more,
- to comfort his father in his trials. But the next mail brought a second
- communication from The Macnamara to say that he could endure no longer the
- desolation of the lonely hearth of his ancestral castle, but would set out
- in search of his lost offspring through all the secret places of the
- earth. Considering that he had posted this letter to the definite address
- of his offspring, the effect of the vagueness of his expressed resolution
- was somewhat lessened.
- </p>
- <p>
- Standish received the letter with dismay, and Colonel Gerald himself felt
- a little uneasiness at the prospect of having The Macnamara quartered upon
- him for an uncertain period. He was well aware of the largeness of the
- ideas of The Macnamara on many matters, and in regard to the question of
- colonial hospitality he felt that the views of the hereditary prince would
- be liberal to an inconvenient degree. It was thus with something akin to
- consternation that he listened to the eloquent letter which Standish read
- with flushed face and trembling hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We shall be very pleased to see The Macnamara here,” said
- Colonel Gerald; and Daireen laughed, saying she could not believe that
- Standish's father would ever bring himself to depart from his
- kingdom. It was on the next day that Colonel Gerald had an interview of
- considerable duration with Standish on a matter of business, he said; and
- when it was over and the young man's qualifications had been judged
- of, Standish found himself in a position either to accept or decline the
- office of private secretary to the new governor of the lovely Castaway
- group. With tears he left the presence of the governor, and went to his
- room to weep the fulness from his mind and to make a number of firm
- resolutions as to his future of hard work; and that very evening Colonel
- Gerald had written to the Colonial Office nominating Standish to the
- appointment; so that the matter was considered settled, and Standish felt
- that he did not fear to face his father.
- </p>
- <p>
- But when Standish had met The Macnamara on the arrival of the mail steamer
- a week after he had received that letter stating his intentions, the young
- man learned, what apparently could not be included in a letter without
- proving harassing to its eloquence, that the extensive lands along the
- coastway of the lough had been sold to an English company of speculators
- who had come to the conclusion that a railway made through the picturesque
- district would bring a fortune to every one who might be so fortunate as
- to have money invested in the undertaking. So a railway was to be made,
- and a gigantic hotel built to overlook the lough. The shooting and fishing
- rights—in fact every right and every foot of ground, had been sold
- for a large sum to the company by The Macnamara. And though Standish had
- at first felt the news as a great blow to him, he subsequently became
- reconciled to it, for his father's appearance at the Cape with
- several thousand pounds was infinitely more pleasing to him than if the
- representative of The Macnamaras had come in his former condition, which
- was simply one of borrowing powers.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's the snowdhrop of Glenmara,” said The Macnamara,
- kissing the hand of Daireen as he met her at the door of the room. “And
- you, George, my boy,” he continued, turning to her father; “I
- may shake hands with you as a friend, without the action being turned to
- mean that I forgive the threatment my counthry has received from the
- nation whose pay you are still in. Yes, only as a friend I shake hands
- with you, George.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is a sufficient ground for me, Macnamara,” said the
- colonel. “We won't go into the other matters just now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I cannot believe that this is Cape Town,” said Daireen.
- “Just think of our meeting here to-day. Oh, if we could only have a
- glimpse of the dear old Slieve Docas!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why shouldn't you see it, white dove?” said The
- Macnamara in Irish to the girl, whose face brightened at the sound of the
- tongue that brought back so many pleasant recollections to her. “Why
- shouldn't you?” he continued, taking from one of the boxes of
- his luggage an immense bunch of purple heather in gorgeous bloom. “I
- gathered it for you from the slope of the mountain. It brings you the
- scent of the finest hill in the world.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The girl caught the magnificent bloom in both her hands and put her face
- down to it. As the first breath of the hill she loved came to her in this
- strange land they saw her face lighten. Then she turned away and buried
- her head in the scents of the hills—in the memories of the mountains
- and the lakes, while The Macnamara spoke on in the musical tongue that
- lived in her mind associated with all the things of the land she loved.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And Innishdermot,” said Colonel Gerald at length, “how
- is the seat of our kings?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Alas, my counthry! thrampled on—bethrayed—crushed to
- the ground!” said The Macnamara. “You won't believe it,
- George—no, you won't. They have spoiled me of all I possessed—they
- have driven me out of the counthry that my sires ruled when the oppressors
- were walking about in the skins of wild beasts. Yes, George, Innishdermot
- is taken from me and I've no place to shelter me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Colonel Gerald began to look grave and to feel much graver even than he
- looked. The Macnamara shelterless was certainly a subject for serious
- consideration.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Standish, observing the expression on his face,
- “you would wonder how any company could find it profitable to pay
- fifteen thousand pounds for the piece of land. That is what the new
- railway people paid my father.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Once more the colonel's face brightened, but The Macnamara stood up
- proudly, saying:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pounds! What are pounds to the feelings of a true patriot? What can
- money do to heal the wrongs of a race?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing,” said the colonel; “nothing whatever. But we
- must hasten out to our cottage. I'll get a coolie to take your
- luggage to the railway station. We shall drive out. My dear Dolly, come
- down from yonder mountain height where you have gone on wings of heather.
- I'll take out the bouquet for you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said Daireen. “I'll not let any one carry it
- for me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And they all went out of the hotel to the carriage.
- </p>
- <p>
- The <i>maître d'hôtel</i>, who had been listening to the speech of
- The Macnamara in wonder, and had been finally mystified by the Celtic
- language, hastened to the visitors' book in which The Macnamara had
- written his name; but this last step certainly did not tend to make
- everything clear, for in the book was written:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Macnamara, Prince of the Isles, Chief of Innish-dermot and the
- Lakes, and King of Munster.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And with such a nose!” said the <i>maître d'hôtel</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXIV.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- Tis sweet and commendable in your nature,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- To give these... duties to your father.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- In that and all things we show our duty.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- <i>King</i>. What wouldst thou beg, Laertes?
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- What wouldst thou have?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- <i>Laertes</i>. Your leave and favour to ret urn—<i>Hamlet</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>O these four
- exiles from Erin sitting out on the stoep of the Dutch cottage after
- dinner very sweet it was to dream of fatherland. The soft light through
- which the broad-leaved, motionless plants glimmered was, of course, not to
- be compared with the long dwindling twilights that were wont to overhang
- the slopes of Lough Suangorm; and that mighty peak which towered above
- them, flanked by the long ridge of Table Mountain, was a poor thing in the
- eyes of those who had witnessed the glories of the heather-swathed Slieve
- Docas.
- </p>
- <p>
- The cries ot the bullock wagoners, which were faintly heard from the road,
- did not interfere with the musings of any of the party, nor with the
- harangue of The Macnamara.
- </p>
- <p>
- Very pleasant it was to hear The Macnamara talk about his homeless
- condition as attributable to the long course of oppression persisted in by
- the Saxon Monarchy—at least so Colonel Gerald thought, for in a
- distant colony a harangue on the subject of British tyranny in Ireland
- does not sound very vigorous, any more than does a burning revolutionary
- ode when read a century or so after the revolution has taken place.
- </p>
- <p>
- But poor Standish, who had spent a good many years of his life breathing
- in of the atmosphere of harangue, began to feel impatient at his sire's
- eloquence. Standish knew very well that his father had made a hard bargain
- with the railway and hotel company that had bought the land; nay, he even
- went so far as to conjecture that the affectionate yearning which had
- caused The Macnamara to come out to the colony in search of his son might
- be more plainly defined as an impulse of prudence to escape from certain
- of his creditors before they could hear of his having received a large sum
- of money. Standish wondered how Colonel Gerald could listen to all that
- his father was saying when he could not help being conscious of the
- nonsense of it all, for the young man was not aware of the pleasant
- memories of his youth that were coming back to the colonel under the
- influence of The Macnamara's speech.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next day, however, Standish had a conversation of considerable length
- with his father, and The Macnamara found that he had made rapid progress
- in his knowledge of the world since he had left his secluded home. In the
- face of his father he insisted on his father's promising to remove
- from the Dutch cottage at the end of a few days. The Macnamara's
- notions of hospitality were very large, and he could not see why Colonel
- Gerald should have the least feeling except of happiness in entertaining a
- shelterless monarch; but Standish was firm, and Colonel Gerald did not
- resist so stoutly as The Macnamara felt he should have done; so that at
- the end of the week Daireen and her father were left alone for the first
- time since they had come together at the Cape.
- </p>
- <p>
- They found it very agreeable to be able to sit together and ride together
- and talk without reserve. Standish Macnamara was, beyond doubt, very good
- company, and his father was even more inclined to be sociable, but no one
- disputed the wisdom of the young man's conduct in curtailing his
- visit and his father's to the Dutch cottage. The Macnamara had his
- pockets filled with money, and as Standish knew that this was a strange
- experience for him, he resolved that the weight of responsibility which
- the preservation of so large a sum was bound to entail, should be reduced;
- so he took a cottage at Rondebosch for his father and himself, and even
- went the length of buying a horse. The lordliness of the ideas of the
- young man who had only had a few months' experience of the world
- greatly impressed his father, and he paid for everything without a murmur.
- </p>
- <p>
- Standish had, at the intervals of his father's impassioned
- discourses, many a long and solitary ride and many a lengthened reverie
- amongst the pines that grow beside The Flats. The resolutions he made as
- to his life at the Castaway group were very numerous, and the visions that
- floated before his eyes were altogether very agreeable. He was beginning
- to feel that he had accomplished a good deal of that ennobling hard work
- in the world which he had resolved to set about fulfilling. His previous
- resolutions had not been made carelessly: he had grappled with adverse
- Fate, he felt, and was he not getting the better of this contrary power?
- </p>
- <p>
- But not many days after the arrival of The Macnamara another personage of
- importance made his appearance in Cape Town. The Bishop of the Calapash
- Islands and Metropolitan of the Salamander Archipelago had at last found a
- vessel to convey him to where his dutiful son was waiting for him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The prelate felt that he had every reason to congratulate himself upon the
- opportuneness of his arrival, for Mr. Glaston assured his father, after
- the exuberance of their meeting had passed away, that if the vessel had
- not appeared within the course of another week, he would have been
- compelled to defer the gratification of his filial desires for another
- year.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A colony is endurable for a week,” said Mr. Glaston; “it
- is wearisome at the end of a fortnight; but a month spent with colonists
- has got a demoralising effect that years perhaps may fail to obliterate.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The bishop felt that indeed he had every reason to be thankful that
- unfavourable winds had not prolonged the voyage of his vessel.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford was, naturally enough, one of the first persons at the Cape
- to visit the bishop, for she had known him years before—she had
- indeed known most Colonial celebrities in her time—and she took the
- opportunity to explain to him that Colonel Gerald had been counting the
- moments until the arrival of the vessel from the Salamanders, so great was
- his anxiety to meet with the Metropolitan of that interesting archipelago,
- with whom he had been acquainted a good many years before. This was very
- gratifying to the bishop, who liked to be remembered by his friends; he
- had an idea that even the bishop of a distant colony runs a chance of
- being forgotten in the world unless he has written an heretical book, so
- he was glad when, a few days after his arrival at Cape Town, he received a
- visit from Colonel Gerald and an invitation to dinner.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was very pleasing to Mrs. Crawford, for, of course, Algernon Glaston
- was included in the invitation, and she contrived without any difficulty
- that he should be seated by the side of Miss Gerald. Her skill was amply
- rewarded, she felt, when she observed Mr. Glaston and Daireen engaged in
- what sounded like a discussion on the musical landscapes of Liszt; to be
- engaged—even on a discussion of so subtle a nature—was
- something, Mrs. Crawford thought.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the course of this evening, she herself, while the bishop was smiling
- upon Daireen in a way that had gained the hearts, if not the souls, of the
- Salamanderians, got by the side of Mr. Glaston, intent upon following up
- the advantage the occasion offered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am so glad that the bishop has taken a fancy to Daireen,”
- she said. “Daireen is a dear good girl—is she not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Glaston raised his eyebrows and touched the extreme point of his
- moustache before he answered a question so pronounced. “Ah, she is—improving,”
- he said slowly. “If she leaves this place at once she may improve
- still.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She wants some one to be near her capable of moulding her tastes—don't
- you think?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She <i>needs</i> such a one. I should not like to say <i>wants,</i>”
- remarked Mr. Glaston.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sure Daireen would be very willing to learn, Mr. Glaston; she
- believes in you, I know,” said Mrs. Crawford, who was proceeding on
- an assumption of the broad principles she had laid down to Daireen
- regarding the effect of flattery upon the race. But her words did not
- touch Mr. Glaston deeply: he was accustomed to be believed in by girls.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She has taste—some taste,” he replied, though the
- concession was not forced from him by Mrs. Crawford's revelation to
- him. “Yes; but of what value is taste unless it is educated upon the
- true principles of Art?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, what indeed?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Miss Gerald's taste is as yet only approaching the right
- tracks of culture. One shudders, anticipating the effect another month of
- life in such a place as this may have upon her. For my own part, I do not
- suppose that I shall be myself again for at least a year after I return. I
- feel my taste utterly demoralised through the two months of my stay here;
- and I explained to my father that it will be necessary for him to resign
- his see if he wishes to have me near him at all. It is quite impossible
- for me to come out here again. The three months' absence from
- England that my visit entails is ruinous to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have always thought of your self-sacrifice as an example of true
- filial duty, Mr. Glaston. I know that Daireen thinks so as well.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Mr. Glaston did not seem particularly anxious to talk of Daireen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; my father must resign his see,” he continued.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The month I have just passed has left too terrible recollections
- behind it to allow of my running a chance of its being repeated. The only
- person I met in the colony who was not hopelessly astray was that Miss
- Vincent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” cried Mrs. Crawford, almost shocked. “Oh, Mr.
- Glaston! you surely do not mean that! Good gracious!—Lottie Vincent!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Miss Vincent was the only one who, I found, had any correct idea of
- Art; and yet, you see, how she turned out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Turned out? I should think so indeed. Lottie Vincent was always
- turning out since the first time I met her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; the idea of her acting in company of such a man as this
- Markham—a man who had no hesitation in going to view a picture by
- candlelight—it is too distressing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear Mr. Glaston, I think they will get on very well together.
- You do not know Lottie Vincent as I know her. She has behaved with the
- most shocking ingratitude towards me. But we are parted now, and I shall
- take good care she does not impose upon me again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It scarcely matters how one's social life is conducted if one's
- artistic life is correct,” said Mr. Glaston.
- </p>
- <p>
- At this assertion, which she should have known to be one of the articles
- of Mr. Glaston's creed, Mrs. Crawford gave a little start. She
- thought it better, however, not to question its soundness. As a matter of
- fact, the bishop himself, if he had heard his son enunciate such a
- precept, would not have questioned its soundness; for Mr. Glaston spake as
- one having authority, and most people whose robustness was not altogether
- mental, believed his Gospel of Art.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No doubt what you say is—ah—very true,” said Mrs.
- Crawford. “But I do wish, Mr. Glaston, that you could find time to
- talk frequently to Daireen on these subjects. I should be so sorry if the
- dear child's ideas were allowed to run wild. Your influence might
- work wonders with her. There is no one here now who can interfere with
- you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Interfere with me, Mrs. Crawford?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I mean, you know, that Mr. Harwood, with his meretricious
- cleverness, might possibly—ah—well, you know how easily girls
- are led.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If there would be a possibility of Miss Gerald's being
- influenced in a single point by such a man as that Mr. Harwood, I fear not
- much can be hoped for her,” said Mr. Glaston.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We should never be without hope,” said Mrs. Crawford. “For
- my own part, I hope a great deal—a very great deal—from your
- influence over Daireen; and I am exceedingly happy that the bishop seems
- so pleased with her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The good bishop was indeed distributing his benedictory smiles freely, and
- Daireen came in for a share of his favours. Her father wondered at the
- prodigality of the churchman's smiles; for as a chaplain he was not
- wont to be anything but grave. The colonel did not reflect that while
- smiling may be a grievous fault in a chaplain, it can never be anything
- but ornamental to a bishop.
- </p>
- <p>
- A few days afterwards Mrs. Crawford called upon the bishop, and had an
- interesting conversation with him on the subject of his son's future—a
- question to which of late the bishop himself had given a good deal of
- thought; for in the course of his official investigations on the question
- of human existence he had been led to believe that the duration of life
- has at all times been uncertain; he had more than once communicated this
- fact to dusky congregations, and by reducing the application of the
- painful truth, he had come to feel that the life of even a throned bishop
- is not exempt from the fatalities of mankind.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the bishop's son was accustomed to spend half of the revenues of
- his father's see, his father was beginning to have an anxiety about
- the future of the young man; for he did not think that his successor to
- the prelacy of the Calapash Islands would allow Mr. Glaston to draw, as
- usual, upon the income accruing to the office. The bishop was not so
- utterly unworldly in his notions but that he knew there exist other means
- of amassing wealth than by writing verses in a pamphlet-magazine, or even
- composing delicate impromptus in minor keys for one's own hearing,
- His son had not felt it necessary to occupy his mind with any profession,
- so that his future was somewhat difficult to foresee with any degree of
- clearness.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford, however, spoke many comforting words to the bishop
- regarding a provision for his son's future. Daireen Gerald, she
- assured him, besides being one of the most charming girls in the world,
- was the only child of her father, and her father's estates in the
- South of Ireland were extensive and profitable.
- </p>
- <p>
- When Mrs. Crawford left him, the bishop felt glad that he had smiled so
- frequently upon Miss Gerald. He had heard that no kindly smile was
- bestowed in vain, but the truth of the sentiment had never before so
- forced itself upon his mind. He smiled again in recollection of his
- previous smiles. He felt that indeed Miss Gerald was a charming girl, and
- Mrs. Crawford was most certainly a wonderful woman; and it can scarcely be
- doubted that the result of the bishop's reflections proved the
- possession on his part of powerful mental resources, enabling him to
- arrive at subtle conclusions on questions of perplexity.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXV.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- Too much of water had'st thou, poor Ophelia.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- How can that be unless she drowned herself?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- If the man go to this water... it is, will he, nill he, he goes; mark you
- that.—<i>Hamlet</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>TANDISH Macnamara
- had ridden to the Dutch cottage, but he found it deserted. Colonel Gerald,
- one of the servants informed him, had early in the day driven to Simon's
- Town, and had taken Miss Gerald with him, but they would both return in
- the evening. Sadly the young man turned away, and it is to be feared that
- his horse had a hard time of it upon The Flats. The waste of sand was
- congenial with his mood, and so was the rapid motion.
- </p>
- <p>
- But while he was riding about in an aimless way, Daireen and her father
- were driving along the lovely road that runs at the base of the low hills
- which form a mighty causeway across the isthmus between Table Bay and
- Simon's Bay. Colonel Gerald had received a message that the
- man-of-war which had been stationed at the chief of the Castaway group had
- called at Simon's Bay; he was anxious to know how the provisional
- government was progressing under the commodore of those waters whose green
- monotony is broken by the gentle cliff's of the Castaways, and
- Daireen had been allowed to accompany her father to the naval station.
- </p>
- <p>
- The summer had not yet advanced sufficiently far to make tawny the dark
- green coarse herbage of the hillside, and the mass of rich colouring lent
- by the heaths and the prickly-pear hedges made Daireen almost jealous for
- the glories of the slopes of Glenmara. For some distance over the road the
- boughs of Australian oaks in heavy foilage were leaning; but when
- Constantia and its evenly set vineyards were passed some distance, Daireen
- heard the sound of breaking waves, and in an instant afterwards the road
- bore them down to the water's edge at Kalk Bay, a little rocky
- crescent enclosing green sparkling waves. Upon a pebbly beach a few
- fishing-boats were drawn up, and the outlying spaces were covered with
- drying nets, the flavour of which was much preferable to that of the
- drying fish that were near.
- </p>
- <p>
- On still the road went until it lost itself upon the mighty beaches of
- False Bay. Down to the very brink of the great green waves that burst in
- white foam and clouds of mist upon the sand the team of the wagonette was
- driven, and on along the snowy curve for miles until Simon's Bay
- with its cliffs were reached, and the horses were pulled up at the hotel
- in the single street of Simon's Town at the base of the low ridge of
- the purple hill.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will not be lonely, Dolly,” said Colonel Gerald as he
- left the hotel after lunch to meet the commander of the man-of-war of
- which the yellow-painted hull and long streaming pennon could be seen from
- the window, opposite the fort at the farthest arm of the bay.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lonely?” said the girl. “I hope I may, for I feel I
- would like a little loneliness for a change. I have not been lonely since
- I was at Glenmara listening to Murrough O'Brian playing a dirge. Run
- away now, papa, and you can tell me when we are driving home what the
- Castaways are really like.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll make particular inquiries as to the possibilities of
- lawn-tennis,” said her father, as he went down the steps to the red
- street.
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen saw a sergeant's party of soldiers carry arms to the
- colonel, though he wore no uniform and had not been at this place for
- years; but even less accustomed observers than the men would have known
- that he was a soldier. Tall, straight, and with bright gray eyes somewhat
- hollower than they had been twenty years before, he looked a soldier in
- every point—one who had served well and who had yet many years of
- service before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- How noble he looked, Daireen thought, as he kissed his hand up to her. And
- then she thought how truly great his life had been. Instead of coming home
- after his time of service had expired, he had continued at his post in
- India, unflinching beneath the glare of the sun overhead or from the
- scorching of the plain underfoot; and here he was now, not going home to
- rest for the remainder of his life, but ready to face an arduous duty on
- behalf of his country. She knew that he had been striving through all
- these years to forget in the work he was accomplishing the one grief of
- his life. She had often seen him gazing at her face, and she knew why he
- had sighed as he turned away.
- </p>
- <p>
- She had not meant to feel lonely in her father's absence, but her
- thoughts somehow were not of that companionable kind which, coming to one
- when alone, prevent one's feeling lonely.
- </p>
- <p>
- She picked up the visitors' book and read all the remarks that had
- been written in English for the past years; but even the literature of an
- hotel visitor's book fails at some moments to relieve a reader's
- mind. She turned over the other volumes, one of which was the Commercial
- Code of Signals, and the other a Dutch dictionary. She read one of Mr.
- Harwood's letters in a back number of the <i>Dominant Trumpeter</i>,
- and she found that she could easily recall the circumstances under which,
- in various conversations, he had spoken to her every word of that column
- and a quarter. She wondered if special correspondents write out every
- night all the remarks that they have heard during the day. But even the
- attempt to solve this problem did not make her feel brisk.
- </p>
- <p>
- What was the thought which was hovering about her, and which she was
- trying to avoid by all the means in her power? She could not have defined
- it. The boundaries of that thought were too vague to be outlined by words.
- </p>
- <p>
- She glanced out of the window for a while, and then walked to the door and
- looked over the iron balcony at the head of the steps. Only a few people
- were about the street. Gazing out seawards, she saw a signal flying from
- the peak of the man-of-war, and in a few minutes she saw a boat put off
- and row steadily for the shore near the far-off fort at the headland. She
- knew the boat was to convey her father aboard the vessel. She stood there
- watching it until it had landed and was on its way back with her father in
- the stern.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then she went along the road until she had left the limits of the town,
- and was standing between the hill and the sea. Very lovely the sea looked
- from where it was breaking about the rocks beneath her, out to the horizon
- which was undefined in the delicate mist that rose from the waters.
- </p>
- <p>
- She stood for a long time tasting of the freshness of the breeze. She
- could see the man-of-war's boat making its way through the waves
- until it at last reached the ship, and then she seemed to have lost the
- object of her thoughts. She turned off the road and got upon the sloping
- beach along which she walked some distance.
- </p>
- <p>
- She had met no one since she had left the hotel, and the coast of the Bay
- round to the farthest headland seemed deserted; but somehow her mood of
- loneliness had gone from her as she stood at the brink of those waters
- whose music was as the sound of a song of home heard in a strange land.
- What was there to hinder her from thinking that she was standing at the
- uttermost headland of Lough Suangorm, looking out once more upon the
- Atlantic?
- </p>
- <p>
- She crossed a sandy hollow and got upon a ledge of rocks, up to which the
- sea was beating. Here she seated herself, and sent her eyes out seawards
- to where the war-ship was lying, and then that thought which had been near
- her all the day came upon her. It was not of the Irish shore that the glad
- waters were laving. It was only of some words that had been spoken to her.
- “For a month we will think of each other,” were the words, and
- she reflected that now this month had passed. The month that she had
- promised to think of him had gone, but it had not taken with it her
- thoughts of the man who had uttered those words.
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked out dreamily across the green waves, wondering if he had
- returned. Surely he would not let a day pass without coming to her side to
- ask her if she had thought of him during the month. And what answer would
- she give him? She smiled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Love, my love,” she said, “when have I ceased to think
- of you? When shall I cease to think of you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The tears forced themselves into her eyes with the pure intensity of her
- passion. She sat there dreaming her dreams and thinking her thoughts until
- she seemed only to hear the sound of the waters of the distance; the sound
- of the breaking waves seemed to have passed away. It was this sudden
- consciousness that caused her to awake from her reverie. She turned and
- saw that the waves were breaking on the beach <i>behind her</i>—the
- rock where she was sitting was surrounded with water, and every plunge of
- the advancing tide sent a swirl of water through the gulf that separated
- the rocks from the beach.
- </p>
- <p>
- In an instant she had started to her feet. She saw the death that was
- about her. She looked to the rock where she was standing. The highest,
- ledge contained a barnacle. She knew it was below the line of high water,
- and now not more than a couple of feet of the ledge were uncovered. A
- little cry of horror burst from her, and at the same instant the boom of a
- gun came across the water from the man-of-war; she looked and saw that the
- boat was on its way to the shore again. In another half-minute a second
- report sounded, and she knew that they were firing a salute to her father.
- They were doing this while his daughter was gazing at death in the face.
- </p>
- <p>
- Could they see her from the boat? It seemed miles away, but she took off
- her white jacket and standing up waved it. Not the least sign was made
- from the boat. The report of the guns echoed along the shore mingling with
- her cries. But a sign was given from the water: a wave flung its spray
- clear over the rock. She knew what it meant.
- </p>
- <p>
- She saw in a moment what chance she had of escape. The water between the
- rock and the shore was not yet very deep. If she could bear the brunt of
- the wild rush of the waves that swept into the hollow she could make her
- way ashore.
- </p>
- <p>
- In an instant she had stepped down to the water, still holding on by the
- rocks. A moment of stillness came and she rushed through the waves, but
- that sand—it sank beneath her first step, and she fell backwards,
- then came another swirl of eddying waves that plunged through the gulf and
- swept her away with their force, out past the rock she had been on. One
- cry she gave as she felt herself lost.
- </p>
- <p>
- The boom of the saluting gun doing honour to her father was the sound she
- heard as the cruel foam flashed into her face.
- </p>
- <p>
- But at her cry there started up from behind a rock far ashore the figure
- of a man. He looked about him in a bewildered way. Then he made a rush for
- the beach, seeing the toy the waves were heaving about. He plunged in up
- to his waist.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Damn the sand!” he cried, as he felt it yield. He bent
- himself against the current and took advantage of every relapse of the
- tide to rush a few steps onward. He caught the rock and swung himself
- round to the seaward side. Then he waited until the next wave brought that
- helpless form near him. He did not leave his hold of the rock, but before
- the backward sweep came he clutched the girl's dress. Then came a
- struggle between man and wave. The man conquered. He had the girl on one
- of his arms, and had placed her upon the rock for an instant. Then he
- swung himself to the shoreward side, caught her up again, and stumbling,
- and sinking, and battling with the current, he at last gained a sound
- footing.
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen was exhausted but not insensible. She sat upon the dry sand where
- the man had placed her, and she drew back the wet hair from her face. Then
- she saw the man stand by the edge of the water and shake his fist at it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's not the first time I've licked you singlehanded,”
- he said, “and it'll not be the last. Your bullying roar won't
- wash here.” Then he seemed to catch sight of something on the top of
- a wave. “Hang me if you'll get even her hat,” he said,
- and once more he plunged in. The hat was farther out than the girl had
- been, and he had more trouble in securing it. Daireen saw that his head
- was covered more than once, and she was in great distress. At last,
- however, he struggled to the beach with the hat in his hand. It was very
- terrible to the girl to see him turn, squeezing the water from his hair,
- and curse the sea and all that pertained to it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Suddenly, however, he looked round and walked up to where she was now
- standing. He handed her the hat as though he had just picked it up from
- the sand. Then he looked at her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Miss,” he said, “I believe I'm the politest man
- in this infernal colony; if I was rude to you just now I ask your pardon.
- I'm afraid I pulled you about.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You saved me from drowning,” said Daireen. “If you had
- not come to me I should be dead now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn't do it for your sake,” said the man. “I
- did it because that's my enemy”—he pointed to the sea—“and
- I wouldn't lose a chance of having a shy at him. It's my
- impression he's only second best this time again. Never mind. How do
- you feel, miss?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only a little tired,” said Daireen. “I don't
- think I could walk back to the hotel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You won't need,” said the man. “Here comes a Cape
- cart and two ancient swells in it. If they don't give you a seat, I'll
- smash the whole contrivance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh!” cried Daireen joyfully; “it is papa—papa
- himself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not the party with the brass buttons?” said the man. “All
- right, I'll hail them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Colonel Gerald sprang from the Cape cart in which he was driving with the
- commodore of the naval station.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good God, Daireen, what does this mean?” he cried, looking
- from the girl to the man beside her.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Daireen, regardless of her dripping condition, threw herself into his
- arms, and the stranger turned away whistling. He reached the road and
- shook his head confidentially at the commodore, who was standing beside
- the Cape cart.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Touching thing to be a father, eh, Admiral?” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stop, sir,” said the commodore. “You must wait till
- this is explained.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Must I?” said the man. “Who is there here that will
- keep me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What can I say to you, sir?” cried Colonel Gerald, coming up
- and holding out his hand to the stranger. “I have no words to thank
- you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, as to that, General,” said the man, “it seems to
- me the less that's said the better. Take my advice and get the lady
- something to drink—anything that teetotallers won't allow is
- safe to be wholesome.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come to my house,” said the commodore. “Miss Gerald
- will find everything there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You bet you'll find something in the spirituous way at the
- admiral's quarters, miss,” remarked the stranger, as Daireen
- was helped into the vehicle. “No, thank you, General, I'll
- walk to the hotel where I put up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pray let me call upon you before I leave,” said Colonel
- Gerald.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Delighted to see you, General; if you come within the next two
- hours, I'll slip the tinsel off a bottle of Moët with you. Now, don't
- wait here. If you had got a pearly stream of salt water running down your
- spine you wouldn't wait; would they, miss? Aw revaw.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXVI.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent10">
- I shall, first asking your pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of my
- sudden and more strange return.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- O limèd soul, that, struggling to be free,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Art more engaged.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be.—<i>Hamlet.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Q</span>UITE three hours
- had passed before Colonel Gerald was able to return to the hotel. The
- stranger was sitting in the coffee-room with a tumbler and a square bottle
- of cognac in front of him as the colonel entered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, General,” cried the stranger, “you are come. I was
- sorry I said two hours, you know, because, firstly, I might have known
- that at the admiral's quarters the young lady would get as many
- doses as would make her fancy something was the matter with her; and,
- secondly, because I didn't think that they would take three hours to
- dry a suit of tweed like this. You see it, General; this blooming suit is
- a proof of the low state of morality that exists in this colony. The man I
- bought it from took an oath that it wouldn't shrink, and yet, just
- look at it. It's a wicked world this we live in, General. I went to
- bed while the suit was being dried, and I believe they kept the fire low
- so that they may charge me with the bed. And how is the young lady?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am happy to say that she has quite recovered from the effects of
- her exhaustion and her wetting,” said Colonel Gerald. “Had you
- not been near, and had you not had that brave heart you showed, my
- daughter would have been lost. But I need not say anything to you—you
- know how I feel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We may take it for granted,” said the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing that either of us could say would make it plainer, at any
- rate. You don't live in this city, General?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, I live near Cape Town, where I am now returning with my
- daughter,” said Colonel Gerald.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's queer,” said the man. “Here am I too not
- living here and just waiting to get the post-cart to bring me to Cape
- Town.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I need scarcely say that I should be delighted if you would accept
- a seat with me,” remarked the colonel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don't say that if there's not a seat to spare, General.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, my dear sir, we have two seats to spare. Can I tell my man to
- put your portmanteau in?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, if he can find it,” laughed the stranger. “Fact
- is, General, I haven't any property here except this tweed suit two
- sizes too small for me now. But these trousers have got pockets, and the
- pockets hold a good many sovereigns without bursting. I mean to set up a
- portmanteau in Cape Town. Yes, I'll take a seat with you so far.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The stranger was scarcely the sort of man Colonel Gerald would have chosen
- to accompany him under ordinary circumstances, but now he felt towards the
- rough man who had saved the life of his daughter as he would towards a
- brother.
- </p>
- <p>
- The wagonette drove round to the commodore's house for Daireen, and
- the stranger expressed very frankly the happiness he felt at finding her
- nothing the worse for her accident.
- </p>
- <p>
- And indeed she did not seem to have suffered greatly; she was a little
- paler, and the commodore's people insisted on wrapping her up
- elaborately.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was so very foolish of me,” she said to the stranger, when
- they had passed out of Simon's Town and were going rapidly along the
- road to Wynberg. “It was so very foolish indeed to sit down upon
- that rock and forget all about the tide. I must have been there an hour.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, miss,” said the man, “I'll take my oath it
- wasn't of your pa you were thinking all that time. Ah, these young
- fellows have a lot to answer for.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was not very subtle humour, Colonel Gerald felt; he found himself
- wishing that his daughter had owed her life to a more refined man; but on
- the whole he was just as glad that a man of sensitiveness had not been in
- the place of this coarse stranger upon that beach a few hours before.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't think I am wrong in believing that you have travelled
- a good deal,” said Colonel Gerald, in some anxiety lest the stranger
- might pursue his course of humorous banter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Travelled?” said the stranger. “Perhaps I have. Yes,
- sir, I have travelled, not excursionised. I've knocked about God's
- footstool since I was a boy, and yet it seems to me that I'm only
- beginning my travels. I've been——”
- </p>
- <p>
- And the stranger continued telling of where he had been until the oak
- avenue at Mowbray was reached. He talked very freshly and frankly of every
- place both in the Northern and Southern hemispheres. The account of his
- travels was very interesting, though perhaps to the colonel's
- servant it was the most entertaining.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have taken it for granted that you have no engagement in Cape
- Town,” said Colonel Gerald as he turned the horses down the avenue.
- “We shall be dining in a short time, and I hope you will join us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't want to intrude, General,” said the man.
- “But I allow that I could dine heartily without going much farther.
- As for having an appointment in Cape Town—I don't know a
- single soul in the colony—not a soul, sir—unless—why,
- hang it all, who's that standing on the walk in front of us?—I'm
- a liar, General; I do know one man in the colony; there he stands, for if
- that isn't Oswin Markham I'll eat him with relish.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is indeed Markham,” said Colonel Gerald. “And you
- know him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Know him?” the stranger laughed. “Know him?” Then
- as the wagonette pulled up beside where Markham was standing in front of
- the house, the stranger leapt down, saying, as he clapped Oswin on the
- shoulder, “The General asks me if I know you, old boy; answer for
- me, will you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Oswin Markham was staring blankly from the man to Daireen and her
- father.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You told me you were going to New York,” he said at last.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And so I was when you packed me aboard the <i>Virginia</i> brig so
- neatly at Natal, but the <i>Virginia</i> brig put into Simon's Bay
- and cut her cable one night, leaving me ashore. It's Providence,
- Oswin—Providence.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Oswin had allowed his hand to be taken by the man, who was the same that
- had spent the night with him in the hotel at Pietermaritzburg. Then he
- turned as if from a fit of abstraction, to Daireen and the colonel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I beg your pardon a thousand times,” he said. “But this
- meeting with Mr. Despard has quite startled me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Despard,” said the colonel, “I must ever look on as
- one of my best friends, though we met to-day for the first time. I owe him
- a debt that I can never repay—my daughter's life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Oswin turned and grasped the hand of the man whom he had called Mr.
- Despard, before they entered the house together.
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen went in just before Markham; they had not yet exchanged a
- sentence, but when her father and Despard had entered one of the rooms,
- she turned, saying:
- </p>
- <p>
- “A month—a month yesterday.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “More,” he answered; “it must be more.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The girl laughed low as she went on to her room. But when she found
- herself apart from every one, she did not laugh. She had her own
- preservation from death to reflect upon, but it occupied her mind less
- than the thought that came to her shaping itself into the words, “He
- has returned.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man of whom she was thinking was standing pale and silent in a room
- where much conversation was floating, for Mr. Harwood had driven out with
- Markham from Cape Town, and he had a good deal to say on the Zulu
- question, which was beginning to be no question. The Macnamara had also
- come to pass the evening with Colonel Gerald, and he was not silent. Oswin
- watched Despard and the hereditary monarch speaking together, and he saw
- them shake hands. Harwood was in close conversation with Colonel Gerald,
- but he was not so utterly absorbed in his subject but that he could notice
- how Markham's eyes were fixed upon the stranger. The terms of a new
- problem were suggesting themselves to Mr. Harwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then Daireen entered the room, and greeted Mr. Harwood courteously—much
- too courteously for his heart's desire. He did not feel so happy as
- he should have done, when she laughed pleasantly and reminded him of her
- prophecy as to his safe return. He felt as he had done on that morning
- when he had said good-bye to her: his time had not yet come. But what was
- delaying that hour he yearned for? She was now standing beside Markham,
- looking up to his face as she spoke to him. She was not smiling at him.
- What could these things mean? Harwood asked himself—Lottie Vincent's
- spiteful remark with reference to Daireen at the lunch that had taken
- place on the hillside in his absence—Oswin's remark about not
- being strong enough to leave the associations of Cape Town—this
- quiet meeting without smiles or any of the conventionalities of ordinary
- acquaintance—what did all these mean? Mr. Harwood felt that he had
- at last got before him the terms of a question the working out of which
- was more interesting to him than any other that could be propounded. And
- he knew also that this man Despard was an important auxiliary to its
- satisfactory solution.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dove of Glenmara, let me look upon your sweet face again, and say
- that you are not hurt,” cried The Macnamara, taking the girl by both
- her hands and looking into her face. “Thank God you are left to be
- the pride of the old country. We are not here to weep over this new
- sorrow. What would life be worth to us if anything had happened to the
- pulse of our hearts? Glenmara would be desolate and Slieve Docas would sit
- in ashes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Macnamara pressed his lips to the girl's forehead as a
- condescending monarch embraces a favoured subject.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bravo, King! you'd make a fortune with that sort of sentiment
- on the boards; you would, by heavens!” said Mr. Despard with an
- unmodulated laugh.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Macnamara seemed to take this testimony as a compliment, for he
- smiled, though the remark did not appear to strike any one else as being
- imbued with humour. Harwood looked at the man curiously; but Markham was
- gazing in another direction without any expression upon his face.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the course of the evening the Bishop of the Calapash Islands dropped
- in. His lordship had taken a house in the neighbourhood for so long as he
- would be remaining in the colony; and since he had had that interview with
- Mrs. Crawford, his visits to his old friend Colonel Gerald were numerous
- and unconventional. He, too, smiled upon Dairecn in his very pleasantest
- manner, and after hearing from the colonel—who felt perhaps that
- some little explanation of the stranger's presence might be
- necessary—of Daireen's accident, the bishop spoke a few words
- to Mr. Despard and shook hands with him—an honour which Mr. Despard
- sustained without emotion.
- </p>
- <p>
- In spite of these civilities, however, this evening was unlike any that
- the colonel's friends had spent at the cottage. The bishop only
- remained for about an hour, and Harwood and Markham soon afterwards took
- their departure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll take a seat with you, Oswin, my boy,” said
- Despard. “We'll be at the same hotel in Cape Town, and we may
- as well all go together.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And they did all go together.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fine fellow, the colonel, isn't he?” remarked Despard,
- before they had got well out of the avenue. “I called him general on
- chance when I saw him for the first time to-day—you're never
- astray in beginning at general and working your way down, with these
- military nobs. And the bishop is a fine old boy too—rather too much
- palm-oil and glycerine about him, though—too smooth and shiny for my
- taste. I expect he does a handsome trade amongst the Salamanders. A smart
- bishop could make a fortune there, I know. And then the king—the
- Irish king as he calls himself—well, maybe he's the best of
- the lot.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There did not seem to be anything in Mr. Despard's opening speech
- that required an answer. There was a considerable pause before Harwood
- remarked quietly: “By the way, Mr. Despard, I think I saw you some
- time ago. I have a good recollection for faces.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you?” said Despard. “Where was it? At 'Frisco
- or Fiji? South Carolina or South Australia?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am not recalling the possibilities of such faraway memories,”
- said Harwood. “But if I don't mistake, you were the person in
- the audience at Pietermaritzburg who made some remark complimentary to
- Markham.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man laughed. “You are right, mister. I only wonder I didn't
- shout out something before, for I never was so taken aback as when I saw
- him come out as that Prince. A shabby trick it was you played on me the
- next morning, Oswin—I say it was infernally shabby. You know what he
- did, mister: when I had got to the outside of more than one bottle of
- Moët, and so wasn't very clear-headed, he packed me into one of the
- carts, drove me to Durban before daylight, and sent me aboard the <i>Virginia</i>
- brig that I had meant to leave. That wasn't like friendship, was it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- But upon this delicate question Mr. Harwood did not think it prudent to
- deliver an opinion. Markham himself was mute, yet this did not seem to
- have a depressing effect upon Mr. Despard. He gave a <i>résumé</i> of the
- most important events in the voyage of the <i>Virginia</i> brig, and
- described very graphically how he had unfortunately become insensible to
- the fact that the vessel was leaving Simon's Bay on the previous
- morning; so that when he awoke, the <i>Virginia</i> brig was on her way to
- New York city, while he was on a sofa in the hotel surrounded by empty
- bottles.
- </p>
- <p>
- When Markham was alone with this man in a room at the hotel at Cape Town,
- Despard became even more talkative.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By heavens, Oswin,” he said, “you have changed your
- company a bit since you were amongst us; generals, bishops, and kings—kings,
- by Jingo—seem to be your chums here. Well, don't you think
- that I don't believe you to be right. You were never of our sort in
- Australia—we all felt you to be above us, and treated you so—making
- a pigeon of you now and again, but never looking on ourselves as your
- equal. By heavens, I think now that I have got in with these people and
- seem to get on so well with them, I'll turn over a new leaf.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you mean to stay here longer than this week?” asked Oswin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This week? I'll not leave for another month—another six
- months, maybe. I've money, my boy, and—suppose we have
- something to drink—something that will sparkle?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't mean to drink anything,” Oswin replied.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must have something,” Despard insisted. “You must
- admit that though the colonel is a glorious old boy, he didn't do
- the hospitable in the liquid way. But I'll keep in with the lot of
- them. I'll go out to see the colonel and his pretty daughter now and
- again. Ah, by George, that pretty daughter seems to have played the
- mischief with some of the young fellows about here. 'Sir,'
- says the king of Ireland to me, 'I fale more than I can till ye: the
- swate girl ye saved is to be me sonn's broide.' This looked
- well enough for the king, and we got very great friends, as you saw. But
- then the bishop comes up to me and, says he, 'Sir, allow me to shake
- you by the hand. You do not know how I feel towards that young lady who
- owes her life to your bravery.' I looked at him seriously: 'Bishop,'
- said I, 'I can't encourage this sort of thing. You might be
- her father.' Well, my boy, you never saw anything so flustered as
- that bishop became; it was more than a minute before he could tell me that
- it was his son who had the tender heart about the girl. That bishop didn't
- ask me to dine with him; though the king did, and I'm going out to
- him to-morrow evening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are going to him?” said Markham.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To be sure I am. He agreed with me about the colonel's
- hospitality in the drink way. 'You'll find it different in my
- house,' said the king; and I think you know, Oswin, that the king
- and me have one point in common.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good-night,” said Markham, going to the door. “No, I
- told you I did not mean to drink anything.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He left Mr. Despard on the sofa smoking the first of a box of cigars he
- had just ordered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He's changed—that boy is,” said Despard. “He
- wouldn't have gone out in that fashion six months ago. But what the
- deuce has changed him? that's what I'd like to know. He wants
- to get me away from here—that's plain—plain? by George,
- it's ugly. But here I am settled for a few months at least if—hang
- that waiter, is he never going to bring me that bottle of old Irish?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXVII.
- </h2>
- <p>
- Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play
- upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of
- my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my
- compass....'S blood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a
- pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you
- cannot play upon me.—<i>Hamlet</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>SWIN Markham sat
- in his own room in the hotel. The window was open, and through it from the
- street below came the usual sounds of Cape Town—terrible Dutch
- mingling with Malay and dashed with Kafir. It was not the intensity of a
- desire to listen to this polyglot mixture that caused Markham to go upon
- the balcony and stand looking out to the night.
- </p>
- <p>
- He reflected upon what had passed since he had been in this place a month
- before. He had gone up to Natal, and in company of Harwood he had had a
- brief hunting expedition. He had followed the spoor of the gemsbok over
- veldt and through kloof, sleeping in the house of the hospitable boers
- when chance offered; but all the time he had been possessed of one supreme
- thought—one supreme hope that made his life seem a joyous thing—he
- had looked forward to this day—the day when he would have returned,
- when he would again be able to look into the face that moved like a
- phantom before him wherever he went. And he had returned—for this—this
- looking, not into her face, but into the street below him, while he
- thought if it would not be better for him to step out beyond the balcony—out
- into the blank that would follow his casting of himself down.
- </p>
- <p>
- He came to the conclusion that it would not be better to step beyond the
- balcony. A thought seemed to strike him as he stood out there. He returned
- to his chamber and threw himself on his bed, but he did not remain passive
- for long; once more he stepped into the air, and now he had need to wipe
- his forehead with his handkerchief.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was an hour afterwards that he undressed himself; but the bugle at the
- barracks had sounded a good many times before he fell asleep.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Harwood, too, had an hour of reflection when he went to his room; but
- his thoughts were hardly of the excitable type of Markham's; they
- had, however, a definite result, which caused him to seek out Mr. Despard
- in the morning.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Despard had just finished a light and salutary breakfast consisting of
- a glass of French brandy in a bottle of soda-water, and he was smoking
- another sample of that box of cigars on the balcony.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good-morning to you, mister,” he said, nodding as Harwood
- came, as if by chance, beside him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, how do you do?” said Harwood. “Enjoying your
- morning smoke, I see. Well, I hope you are nothing the worse for your
- plunge yesterday.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, sir, nothing; I only hope that Missy out there will be as
- sound. I don't think they insisted on her drinking enough
- afterwards.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, perhaps not. Your friend Markham has not come down yet, they
- tell me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was never given to running ties with the sun,” said Mr.
- Despard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He told me you were a particular friend of his in Australia?”
- continued Mr. Harwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, men very soon get to be friends out there; but Oswin and
- myself were closer than brothers in every row and every lark.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of which you had, no doubt, a good many?
- </p>
- <p>
- “A good few, yes; a few that wouldn't do to be printed
- specially as prizes for young ladies' boarding-schools—not but
- what the young ladies would read them if they got the chance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Few fellows would care to write their autobiographies and go into
- the details of their life,” said Harwood. “I suppose you got
- into trouble now and again?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Trouble? Well, yes, when the money ran short, and there was no
- balance at the bank; that's real trouble, let me tell you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It certainly is; but I mean, did you not sometimes need the
- friendly offices of a lawyer after a wild few days?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir,” said Despard, throwing away the end of his cigar,
- “if your idea of a wild few days is housebreaking or manslaughter,
- it wasn't ours, I can tell you. No, my boy, we never took to
- bushranging; and though I've had my turn with Derringer's
- small cannons when I was at Chokeneck Gulch, it was only because it was
- the custom of the country. No, sir; Oswin, though he seems to have turned
- against me here, will still have my good word, for I swear to you he never
- did anything that made the place too hot for him, though I don't
- suppose that if he was in a competitive examination for a bishopric the
- true account of his life in Melbourne would help him greatly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There are none of us here who mean to be bishops,” laughed
- Harwood. “But I understood from a few words Markham let fall that—well,
- never mind, he is a right good fellow, as I found when we went up country
- together a couple of weeks ago. By the way, do you mean to remain here
- long, Mr. Despard?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Life is short, mister, and I've learned never to make
- arrangements very far in advance. I've about eighty sovereigns with
- me, and I'll stay here till they're spent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then your stay will be proportionate to your spending powers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In an inverse ratio, as they used to say at school,” said
- Despard.
- </p>
- <p>
- When Mr. Harwood went into the room he reflected that on the whole he had
- not gained much information from Mr. Despard; and Mr. Despard reflected
- that on the whole Mr. Harwood had not got much information by his system
- of leading questions.
- </p>
- <p>
- About half an hour afterwards Markham came out upon the balcony, and gave
- a little unaccountable start on seeing its sole occupant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hallo, my boy! have you turned up at last?” cried Despard.
- “Our good old Calapash friend will tell you that unless you get up
- with the lark you'll never do anything in the world. You should have
- been here a short time ago to witness the hydraulic experiments.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The what?” said Markham.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hydraulic experiments. The patent pump of the <i>Dominant Trumpeter</i>
- was being tested upon me. Experiments failed, not through any incapacity
- of the pump, but through the contents of the reservoir worked upon not
- running free enough in the right direction.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Was Mr. Harwood here?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was, my boy. And he wanted to know all about how we lived in
- Melbourne.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you told him——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To get up a little earlier in the morning when he wants to try his
- pumping apparatus. But what made you give that start? Don't you know
- that all I could tell would be some of our old larks, and he wouldn't
- have thought anything the worse of you on account of them? Hang it all,
- you don't mean to say you're going into holy orders, that you
- mind having any of the old times brought back? If you do, I'm afraid
- that it will be awkward for you if I talk in my ordinary way. I won't
- bind myself not to tell as many of our larks as chime in with the general
- conversation. I only object on principle to be pumped.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Talk away,” said Oswin spasmodically. “Tell of all our
- larks. How could I be affected by anything you may tell of them?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bravo! That's what I say. Larks are larks. There was no
- manslaughter nor murder. No, there was no murder.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, there was no murder,” said Markham.
- </p>
- <p>
- The other burst into a laugh that startled a Malay in the street below.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By heavens, from the way you said that one would fancy there had
- been a murder,” he cried.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then there was a long pause, which was broken by Markham.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You still intend to go out to dine with that man you met yesterday?”
- he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don't call him a man, Oswin; you wouldn't call a bishop
- a man, and why call a king one. Yes, I have ordered a horse that is said
- to know the way across those Flats without a pocket compass.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where did you say the house was?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's near a place called Rondebosch. I remember the locality
- well, though it's ten years since I was there. The shortest way back
- is through a pine-wood at the far end of The Flats—you know that
- place, of course.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know The Flats. And you mean to come through the pine-wood?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do mean it. It's a nasty place to ride through, but the
- horse always goes right in a case like that, and I'll give him his
- head.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take care that you have your own at that time,” said Markham.
- “The house of the Irishman is not like Colonel Gerald's.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope not, for a more thirsty evening I never spent than at your
- friend's cottage. The good society hardly made up for the want of
- drink. It put me in mind of the story of the man that found the pearls
- when he was starving in the desert. What are bishops and kings to a fellow
- if he is thirsty?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will leave the house to return here between eleven and twelve,
- I suppose?” said Oswin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I should say that about eleven will see me on my way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you will go through the pine-wood?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will, my boy, and across The Flats until I pass the little river—it's
- there still, I suppose. And now suppose I buy you a drink?”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Oswin Markham declined to be the object of such a purchase. He went
- back to his own room, and threw himself on his bed, where he remained for
- more than an hour. Then he rose and wiped his forehead.
- </p>
- <p>
- He pulled down some books that he had bought, and tried to read bits of
- one or two. He sat diligently down as if he meant to go through a day's
- reading, but he did not appear to be in the mood for applying himself to
- anything. He threw the books aside and turned over some newspapers; but
- these did not seem to engross him any more than the books had done. He lay
- back in his chair, and after a while his restlessness subsided: he had
- fallen asleep.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the afternoon before he awoke with a sudden start. He heard the
- sound of voices in the street below his window. He went forward, and,
- looking out, was just in time to see Harry Despard mounting his horse at
- the hotel door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will be back about midnight,” he said to the porter of the
- hotel, and then he trotted off.
- </p>
- <p>
- Markham heard the sound of the horse's hoofs die away on the street,
- and he repeated the man's words: “About midnight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXVIII.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- To desperation turn my trust and hope.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- What if this cursed hand
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- To wash it white as snow?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- I'll have prepared him
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- A chalice for the nonce whereon but sipping
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- ... he...
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Chaunted snatches of old tunes,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- As one incapable.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The drink—the drink—... the foul practice
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Hath turned itself on me; lo, here I lie...
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- I can no more: the King—the King's to blame.—<i>Hamlet</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>SWIN Markham dined
- at the hotel late in the evening, and when he was in the act Harwood came
- into the room dressed for a dinner-party at Greenpoint to which he had
- been invited.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your friend Mr. Despard is not here?” said Harwood, looking
- around the room. “I wanted to see him for a moment to give him a few
- words of advice that may be useful to him. I wish to goodness you would
- speak to him, Markham; he has been swaggering about in a senseless way,
- talking of having his pockets full of sovereigns, and in the hearing of
- every stranger that comes into the hotel. In the bar a few hours ago he
- repeated his boast to the Malay who brought him his horse. Now, for Heaven's
- sake, tell him that unless he wishes particularly to have a bullet in his
- head or a khris in his body some of these nights, he had better hold his
- tongue about his wealth—that is what I meant to say to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you are right,” cried Oswin, starting up suddenly.
- “He has been talking in the hearing of men who would do anything for
- the sake of a few sovereigns. What more likely than that some of them
- should follow him and knock him down? That will be his end, Harwood.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It need not be,” replied Harwood. “If you caution him,
- he will most likely regard what you say to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will caution him—if I see him again,” said Markham;
- then Harwood left the room, and Markham sat down again, but he did not
- continue his dinner. He sat there staring at his plate. “What more
- likely?” he muttered. “What more likely than that he should be
- followed and murdered by some of these men? If his body should be found
- with his pockets empty, no one could doubt it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He sat there for a considerable time—until the streets had become
- dark; then he rose and went up to his own room for a while, and finally he
- put on his hat and left the hotel.
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked at his watch as he walked to the railway station, and saw that
- he would be just in time to catch a train leaving for Wynberg. He took a
- ticket for the station on the Cape Town side of Mowbray, where he got out.
- </p>
- <p>
- He walked from the station to the road and again looked at his watch: it
- was not yet nine o'clock; and then he strolled aside upon a little
- foot-track that led up the lower slopes of the Peak above Mowbray. The
- night was silent and moonless. Upon the road only at intervals came the
- rumbling of bullock wagons and the shouts of the Kafir drivers. The hill
- above him was sombre and untouched by any glance of light, and no breeze
- stirred up the scents of the heath. He walked on in the silence until he
- had come to the ravine of silver firs. He passed along the track at the
- edge and was soon at the spot where he had sat at the feet of Daireen a
- month before. He threw himself down on the short coarse grass just as he
- had done then, and every moment of the hour they had passed together came
- back to him. Every word that had been spoken, every thought that had
- expressed itself upon that lovely face which the delicate sunset light had
- touched—all returned to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- What had he said to her? That the past life he had lived was blotted out
- from his mind? Yes, he had tried to make himself believe that; but now how
- Fate had mocked him! He had been bitterly forced to acknowledge that the
- past was a part of the present. His week so full of bitterest suffering
- had not formed a dividing line between the two lives he fancied might be
- his.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is this the justice of God?” he cried out now to the stars,
- clasping his hands in agony above his head. “It is unjust. My life
- would have been pure and good now, if I had been granted my right of
- forgetfulness. But I have been made the plaything of God.” He stood
- with his hands clasped on his head for long. Then he gave a laugh. “Bah!”
- he said; “man is master of his fate. I shall do myself the justice
- that God has denied me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He came down from that solemn mount, and crossed he road at a nearer point
- than the Mowbray avenue.
- </p>
- <p>
- He soon found himself by the brink of that little river which flowed past
- Rondebosch and Mowbray. He got beneath the trees that bordered its banks,
- and stood for a long time in the dead silence of the night. The mighty
- dog-lilies were like pictures beneath him; and only now and again came
- some of those mysterious sounds of night—the rustling of certain
- leaves when all the remainder were motionless, the winnowing of the wings
- of some night creature whose form remained invisible, the sudden stirring
- of ripples upon the river without a cause being apparent—the man
- standing there heard all, and all appeared mysterious to him. He wondered
- how he could have so often been by night in places like this, without
- noticing how mysterious the silence was—how mysterious the strange
- sounds.
- </p>
- <p>
- He walked along by the bank of the slow river, until he was just opposite
- Mowbray. A little bridge with rustic rails was, he knew, at hand, by which
- he would cross the stream—for he must cross it. But before he had
- reached it, he heard a sound. He paused. Could it be possible that it was
- the sound of a horse's hoofs? There he waited until something white
- passed from under the trees and reached the bridge, standing between him
- and the other side of the river—something that barred his way. He
- leant against the tree nearest to him, for he seemed to be falling to the
- ground, and then through the stillness of the night the voice of Daireen
- came singing a snatch of song—his song. She was on the little bridge
- and leaning upon the rail. In a few moments she stood upright, and
- listlessly walked under the trees where he was standing, though she could
- not see him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Daireen,” he said gently, so that she might not be startled;
- and she was not startled, she only walked backwards a few steps until she
- was again at the bridge.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did any one speak?” she said almost in a whisper. And then he
- stood before her while she laughed with happiness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why do you stand there?” he said in a tone of wonder. “What
- was it sent you to stand there between me and the other side of that
- river?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I said to papa that I would wait for him here. He went to see Major
- Crawford part of the way to the house where the Crawfords are staying; but
- what can be keeping him from returning I don't know. I promised not
- to go farther than the avenue, and I have just been here a minute.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked at her standing there before him. “Oh God! oh God!”
- he said, as he reflected upon what his own thoughts had been a moment
- before. “Daireen, you are an angel of God—that angel which
- stood between the living and the dead. Stay near me. Oh, child! what do I
- not owe to you? my life—the peace of my soul for ever and ever. And
- yet—must we speak no word of love together, Daireen?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not one—here,” she said. “Not one—only—ah,
- my love, my love, why should we speak of it? It is all my life—I
- breathe it—I think it—it is myself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked at her and laughed. “This moment is ours,” he said
- with tremulous passion. “God cannot pluck it from us. It is an
- immortal moment, if our souls are immortal. Child, can God take you away
- from me before I have kissed you on the mouth?” He held her face
- between his hands and kissed her. “Darling, I have taken your white
- soul into mine,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then they stood apart on that bridge.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now,” she said, “you must never frighten me with
- your strange words again. I do not know what you mean sometimes, but then
- that is because I don't know very much. I feel that you are good and
- true, and I have trusted you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will be true to you,” he said gently. “I will die
- loving you better than any hope man has of heaven. Daireen, never dream,
- whatever may happen, that I shall not love you while my soul lives.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will believe you,” she said; and then voices were heard
- coming down the lane of aloes at the other side of the river—voices
- and the sound of a horse's hoofs. Colonel Gerald and Major Crawford
- were coming along leading a horse, across whose saddle lay a black mass.
- Oswin Markham gave a start. Then Daireen's father hastened forward
- to where she was standing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Child,” he said quickly, “go back—go back to the
- house. I will come to you in a few minutes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is the matter, papa?” she asked. “No one is hurt?—Major
- Crawford is not hurt?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, he is here; but go, Daireen—go at once.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She turned and went up the avenue without a word. But she saw that Oswin
- was not looking at her—that he was grasping the rail of the bridge
- while he gazed to where the horse with its burden stood a few yards away
- among the aloes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am glad you chance to be here, Markham,” said Colonel
- Gerald hurriedly. “Something has happened—that man Despard——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not dead—not murdered!” gasped Oswin, clutching the
- rail with both hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Murdered? no; how could he be murdered? he must have fallen from
- his horse among the trees.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And he is dead—he is dead?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Calm yourself, Markham,” said the colonel; “he is not
- dead.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not in that sense, my boy,” laughed Major Crawford. “By
- gad, if we could leave the brute up to the neck in the river here for a
- few hours I fancy he would be treated properly. Hold him steady, Markham.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Oswin put his hand mechanically to the feet of the man who was lying
- helplessly across the saddle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not dead, not dead,” he whispered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only dead drunk, unless his skull is fractured, my boy,”
- laughed the major. “We'll take him to the stables, of course,
- George?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, to the house,” said Colonel Gerald.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Run on and get the key of the stables, George,” said the
- major authoritatively. “Don't you suppose in any way that your
- house is to be turned into an hospital for dipsomaniacs. Think of the
- child.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Colonel Gerald made a little pause, and then hastened forward to awaken
- the groom to get the key of the stables, which were some distance from the
- cottage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By gad, Markham, I'd like to spill the brute into that pond,”
- whispered the major to Oswin, as they waited for the colonel's
- return.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How did you find him? Did you see any accident?” asked Oswin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We met the horse trotting quietly along the avenue without a rider,
- and when we went on among the trees we found the fellow lying helpless.
- George said he was killed, but I knew better. Irish whisky, my boy, was
- what brought him down, and you will find that I am right.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They let the man slide from the saddle upon a heap of straw when the
- stable door was opened by the half-dressed groom.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not dead, Jack?” said Colonel Gerald as a lantern was held to
- the man's face. Only the major was looking at the man; Markham could
- not trust himself even to glance towards him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dead?” said the major. “Why, since we have laid him
- down I have heard him frame three distinct oaths. Have you a bucket of
- water handy, my good man? No, it needn't be particularly clean. Ah,
- that will do. Now, if you don't hear a choice selection of colonial
- blasphemy, he's dead and, by gad, sir, so am I.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The major's extensive experience of the treatment of colonial
- complaints had, as the result proved, led him to form a correct if
- somewhat hasty diagnosis of the present case. Not more than a gallon of
- the water had been thrown upon the man before he recovered sufficient
- consciousness to allow of his expressing himself with freedom on the
- subject of his treatment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I told you so,” chuckled the major. “Fill the bucket
- again, my man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Colonel Gerald could only laugh now that his fears had been dispelled. He
- hastened to the house to tell Daireen that there was no cause for alarm.
- </p>
- <p>
- By the time the second bucketful had been applied, in pursuance of the
- major's artless system of resuscitation, Despard was sitting up
- talking of the oppressions under which a certain nation was groaning. He
- was sympathetic and humorous in turn; weeping after particular broken
- sentences, and chuckling with laughter after other parts of his speech.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Irish eloquence and the Irish whisky have run neck and neck for
- the fellow's soul,” said the major. “If we hadn't
- picked him up he would be in a different state now. Are you going back to
- Cape Town to-night, Markham?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am,” said Oswin.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's lucky. You mustn't let George have his way in
- this matter. This brute would stay in the cottage up there for a month.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He must not do that,” cried Markham eagerly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, my boy; so you will drive with him in the Cape cart to the
- hotel. He will give you no trouble if you lay him across the floor and
- keep your feet well down upon his chest. Put one of the horses in, my man,”
- continued the major, turning to the groom. “You will drive in with
- Mr. Markham, and bring the cart back.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Before Colonel Gerald had returned from the house a horse was harnessed to
- the Cape cart, Despard had been lifted up and placed in an easy attitude
- against one of the seats. And only a feeble protest was offered by the
- colonel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear Markham,” he said, “it was very lucky you were
- passing where my daughter saw you. You know this man Despard—how
- could I have him in my house?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In your house!” cried Markham. “Thank God I was here to
- prevent that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Cape cart was already upon the avenue and the lamps were lighted. But
- a little qualm seemed to come to the colonel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you sure he is not injured—that he has quite recovered
- from any possible effects?” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then came the husky voice of the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go'night, king, go'night. I'm alright—horse
- know's way. We're tram'led on, king—'pressed
- people—but wormil turn—wormil turn—never mind—Go
- save Ireland—green flag litters o'er us—tread th'
- land that bore us—go'night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The cart was in motion before the man's words had ceased.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXIX.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent20">
- Look you lay home to him:
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- What to ourselves in passion we propose,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- I must leave thee, love...
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Honour'd, belov'd, and haply one as kind
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- For husband shalt thou—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife.—<i>Hamlet</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>SWIN Markham lay
- awake nearly all that night after he had reached the hotel. His thoughts
- were not of that even nature whose proper sequence is sleep. He thought of
- all that had passed since he had left the room he was lying in now. What
- had been on his mind on leaving this room—what had his determination
- been?
- </p>
- <p>
- “For her,” he said; “for her. It would have been for
- her. God keep me—God pity me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The morning came with the sound of marching soldiers in the street below;
- with the cry of bullock-wagon-drivers and the rattle of the rude carts;
- with the morning and the sounds of life—the breaking of the deadly
- silence of the night—sleep came to the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was almost midday before he awoke, and for some time after opening his
- eyes he was powerless to recollect anything that had happened during the
- night; his awakening now was as his return to consciousness on board the
- <i>Cardwell Castle</i>,—a great blank seemed to have taken place in
- his life—the time of unconsciousness was a gulf that all his efforts
- of memory could not at first bridge.
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked around the room, and his first consciousness was the
- recollection of what his thoughts of the previous evening had been when he
- had slept in the chair before the window and had awakened to see Despard
- ride away. He failed at once to remember anything of the interval of
- night; only with that one recollection burning on his brain he looked at
- his right hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a short time he remembered everything. He knew that Despard was in the
- hotel. He dressed himself and went downstairs, and found Harwood in the
- coffee-room, reading sundry documents with as anxious an expression of
- countenance as a special correspondent ever allows himself to assume.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is the news?” Markham asked, feeling certain that
- something unusual had either taken place or was seen by the prophetical
- vision of Harwood to be looming in the future.
- </p>
- <p>
- “War,” said Harwood, looking up. “War, Markham. I should
- never have left Natal. They have been working up to the point for the last
- few months, as I saw; but now there is no hope for a peaceful settlement.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Zulu chief is not likely to come to terms now?” said
- Markham.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Impossible,” replied the other. “Quite impossible. In a
- few days there will, no doubt, be a call for volunteers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For volunteers?” Markham repeated. “You will go up
- country at once, I suppose?” he added.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not quite as a volunteer, but as soon as I receive my letters by
- the mail that arrives in a few days, I shall be off to Durban, at any
- rate.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you will be glad of it, no doubt. You told me you liked doing
- war-correspondence.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did I?” said Harwood; and after a little pause he added
- slowly: “It's a tiring life this I have been leading for the
- past fifteen years, Markham. I seem to have cut myself off from the
- sympathies of life. I seem to have been only a looker-on in the great
- struggles—the great pleasures—of life. I am supposed to have
- no more sympathies than Babbage's calculator that records certain
- facts without emotion, and I fancied I had schooled myself into this cold
- apathy in looking at things; but I don't think I have succeeded in
- cutting myself off from all sympathies. No, I shall not be glad of this
- war. Never mind. By the way, are you going out to Dr. Glaston's
- to-night?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have got a card for his dinner, but I cannot tell what I may do.
- I am not feeling myself, just now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You certainly don't look yourself, Markham. You are haggard,
- and as pale as if you had not got any sleep for nights. You want the
- constitution of your friend Mr. Despard, who is breakfasting in the bar.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, is it possible he is out of his room?” cried Markham,
- in surprise.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, he was waiting here an hour ago when I came down, and in the
- meantime he had been buying a suit of garments, he said, that gallant
- check of his having come to grief through the night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Harwood spoke the words at the door and then he left the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Oswin was not for long left in solitary occupation, however, for in a few
- moments the door was flung open, and Despard entered with a half-empty
- tumbler in his hand. He came forward with a little chuckling laugh and
- stood in front of Oswin without speaking. He looked with his blood-shot
- eyes into Oswin's cold pale face, and then burst into a laugh so
- hearty that he was compelled to leave the tumbler upon the table, not
- having sufficient confidence in his ability to grasp it under the
- influence of his excitement. Then he tapped Markham on the shoulder,
- crying:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, old boy, have you got over that lark of last night? Like the
- old times, wasn't it? You did the fatherly by me, I believe, though
- hang me if I remember what happened after I had drunk the last glass of
- old Irish with our friend the king. How the deuce did I get in with the
- teetotal colonel who, the boots has been telling me, lent me his cart?
- That's what I should like to know. And where were you, my boy, all
- the night?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Despard,” said Markham, “I have borne with your brutal
- insults long enough. I will not bear them any longer. When you have so
- disgraced both yourself and me as you did last night, it is time to bring
- matters to a climax. I cannot submit to have you thrust yourself upon my
- friends as you have done. You behaved like a brute.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Despard seated himself and wiped his eyes. “I did behave like a
- brute,” he said. “I always do, I know—and you know too,
- Oswin. Never mind. Tell me what you want—what am I to do?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must leave the colony,” said Oswin quickly, almost
- eagerly. “I will give you money, and a ticket to England to-day. You
- must leave this place at once.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And so I will—so I will,” said the man from behind his
- handkerchief. “Yes, yes, Oswin, I'll leave the colony—I
- will—when I become a teetotaller.” He took down his
- handkerchief, and put it into his pocket with a hoarse laugh. “Come,
- my boy,” he said in his usual voice, “come; we've had
- quite enough of that sort of bullying. Don't think you're
- talking to a boy, Master Oswin. Who looks on a man as anything the worse
- for getting drunk now and again? You don't; you can't afford
- to. How often have I not helped you as you helped me? Tell me that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In the past—the accursed past,” said Oswin, “I
- may have made myself a fool—yes, I did, but God knows that I have
- suffered for it. Now all is changed. I was willing to tolerate you near me
- since we met this time, hoping that you would think fit, when you were in
- a new place and amongst new people, to change your way of life. But last
- night showed me that I was mistaken. You can never be received at Colonel
- Gerald's again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Indeed?” said the man. “You should break the news
- gently to a fellow. You might have thrown me into a fit by coming down
- like that. Hark you here, Mr. Markham. I know jolly well that I will be
- received there and welcomed too. I'll be received everywhere as well
- as you, and hang me, if I don't go everywhere. These people are my
- friends as well as yours. I've done more for them than ever you did,
- and they know that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fool, fool!” said Oswin bitterly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We'll see who's the fool, my boy. I know my advantage,
- don't you be afraid. The Irish king has a son, hasn't he?
- well, I was welcome with him last night. The Lord Bishop of Calapash has
- another blooming male offspring, and though he hasn't given me an
- invite to his dinner this evening, yet, hang me, if he wouldn't hug
- me if I went with the rest of you swells. Hang me, if I don't try it
- at any rate—it will be a lark at least. Dine with a bishop—by
- heaven, sir, it would be a joke—I'll go, oh, Lord, Lord!”
- Oswin stood motionless looking at him. “Yes,” continued
- Despard, “I'll have a jolly hour with his lordship the bishop.
- I'll fill up my glass as I did last night, and we'll drink the
- same toast together—we'll drink to the health of the Snowdrop
- of Glenmara, as the king called her when he was very drunk; we'll
- drink to the fair Daireen. Hallo, keep your hands off!—Curse you,
- you're choking me! There!” Oswin, before the girl's name
- had more than passed the man's lips, had sprung forward and clutched
- him by the throat; only by a violent effort was he cast off, and now both
- men stood trembling with passion face to face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What the deuce do you mean by this sort of treatment?” cried
- Despard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Despard,” said Oswin slowly, “you know me a little, I
- think. I tell you if you ever speak that name again in my presence you
- will repent it. You know me from past experience, and I have not utterly
- changed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man looked at him with an expression that amounted to wonderment upon
- his face. Then he threw himself back in his chair, and an uncontrollable
- fit of laughter seized him. He lay back and almost yelled with his insane
- laughter. When he had recovered himself and had wiped the tears from his
- eyes, he saw Oswin was gone. And this fact threw him into another
- convulsive fit. It was a long time before he was able to straighten his
- collar and go to the bar for a glass of French brandy.
- </p>
- <p>
- The last half-hour had made Oswin Markham very pale. He had eaten no
- breakfast, and he was reminded of this by the servant to whom he had given
- directions to have his horse brought to the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” he said, “I have not eaten anything. Get the horse
- brought round quickly, like a good fellow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He stood erect in the doorway until he heard the sound of hoofs. Then he
- went down the steps and mounted, turning his horse's head towards
- Wynberg. He galloped along the red road at the base of the hill, and only
- once he looked up, saying, “For the last time—the last.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He reached the avenue at Mowbray and dismounted, throwing the bridle over
- his arm as he walked slowly between the rows of giant aloes. In another
- moment he came in sight of the Dutch cottage. He paused under one of the
- Australian oaks, and looked towards the house. “Oh, God, God, pity
- me!” he cried in agony so intense that it could not relieve itself
- by any movement or the least motion.
- </p>
- <p>
- He threw the bridle over a low branch and walked up to the house. His step
- was heard. She stood before him in the hall—white and flushed in
- turn as he went towards her. He was not flushed; he was still deadly
- white. He had startled her, he knew, for the hand she gave him was
- trembling like a dove's bosom.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Papa is gone part of the way back to Simon's Town with the
- commodore who was with us this morning,” she said. “But you
- will come in and wait, will you not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I cannot,” he said. “I cannot trust myself to go in—even
- to look at you, Daireen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, God!” she said, “you are ill—your face—your
- voice——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am not ill, Daireen. I have an hour of strength—such
- strength as is given to men when they look at Death in the face and are
- not moved at all. I kissed you last night——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you will now,” she said, clasping his arm tenderly.
- “Dearest, do not speak so terribly—do not look so terrible—so
- like—ah, that night when you looked up to me from the water.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Daireen, why did I do that? Why did you pluck me from that death to
- give me this agony of life—to give yourself all the bitterness that
- can come to any soul? Daireen, I kissed you only once, and I can never
- kiss you again. I cannot be false to you any longer after having touched
- your pure spirit. I have been false to you—false, not by my will—but
- because to me God denied what He gave to others—others to whom His
- gift was an agony—that divine power to begin life anew. My past
- still clings to me, Daireen—it is not past—it is about and
- around me still—it is the gulf that separates us, Daireen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Separates us?” she said blankly, looking at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Separates us,” he repeated, “as heaven and hell are
- separated. We have been the toys—the playthings, of Fate. If you had
- not looked out of your cabin that night, we should both be happy now. And
- then how was it we came to love each other and to know it to be love? I
- struggled against it, but I was as a feather upon the wind. Ah, God has
- given us this agony of love, for I am here to look on you for the last
- time—to beseech of you to hate me, and to go away knowing that you
- love me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, not to go away—anything but that. Tell me all—I
- can forgive all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I cannot bring my lips to frame my curse,” he said after a
- little pause. “But you shall hear it, and, Daireen, pity me as you
- pitied me when I looked to God for hope and found none. Child—give
- me your eyes for the last time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She held him clasped with her white hands, and he saw that her passion
- made her incapable of understanding his words. She looked up to him
- whispering, “The last time—no, no—not the last time—not
- the last.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She was in his arms. He looked down upon her face, but he did not kiss it.
- He clenched his teeth as he unwound her arms from him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “One word may undo the curse that I have bound about your life,”
- he said. “Take the word, Daireen—the blessed word for you and
- me—<i>Forget</i>. Take it—it is my last blessing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She was standing before him. She saw his face there, and she gave a cry,
- covering her own face with her hands, for the face she saw was that which
- had looked up to her from the black waters.
- </p>
- <p>
- Was he gone?
- </p>
- <p>
- From the river bank came the sounds of the native women, from the garden
- the hum of insects, and from the road the echo of a horse's hoofs
- passing gradually away.
- </p>
- <p>
- Was it a dream—not only this scene of broad motionless leaves, and
- these sounds she heard, but all the past months of her life?
- </p>
- <p>
- Hours went by leaving her motionless in that seat, and then came the sound
- of a horse—she sprang up. He was returning—it was a dream that
- had given her this agony of parting.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Daireen, child, what is the matter?” asked her father, whose
- horse it was she had heard.
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked up to his face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Papa,” she said very gently, “it is over—all—all
- over—for ever—I have only you now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear little Dolly, tell me all that troubles you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing troubles me now, papa. I have you near me, and I do not
- mind anything else.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell me all, Daireen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought I loved some one else, papa—Oswin—Oswin
- Markham. But he is gone now, and I know you are with me. You will always
- be with me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My poor little Dolly,” said Colonel Gerald, “did he
- tell you that he loved you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He did, papa; but you must ask me no more. I shall never see him
- again!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perfectly charming!” said Mrs. Crawford, standing at the
- door. “The prettiest picture I have seen for a long time—father
- and daughter in each other's arms. But, my dear George, are you not
- yet dressed for the bishop's dinner? Daireen, my child, did you not
- say you would be ready when I would call for you? I am quite disappointed,
- and I would be angry only you look perfectly lovely this evening—like
- a beautiful lily. The dear bishop will be so charmed, for you are one of
- his favourites. Now do make haste, and I entreat of you to be particular
- with your shades of gray.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XL.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent20">
- ... A list of... resolutes
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- For food and diet, to some enterprise
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- That hath a stomach in't.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- My news shall be the fruit to that great feast.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Why, let the stricken deer go weep,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- The hart ungalléd play;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- For some must watch, while some must sleep;
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Thus runs the world away.—<i>Hamlet</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Bishop of the
- Calapash Islands and Metropolitan of the Salamander Archipelago was
- smiling very tranquilly upon his guests as they arrived at his house,
- which was about two miles from Mowbray. But the son of the bishop was not
- smiling—he, in fact, seldom smiled; there was a certain breadth of
- expression associated with such a manifestation of feeling that was
- inconsistent with his ideas of subtlety of suggestion. He was now
- endeavouring to place his father's guests at ease by looking only
- slightly bored by their presence, giving them to understand that he would
- endure them around him for his father's sake, so that there should
- be no need for them to be at all anxious on his account. A dinnerparty in
- a colony was hardly that sort of social demonstration which Mr. Glaston
- would be inclined to look forward to with any intensity of feeling; but
- the bishop, having a number of friends at the Cape, including a lady who
- was capable of imparting some very excellent advice on many social
- matters, had felt it to be a necessity to give this little dinnerparty,
- and his son had only offered such a protest against it as satisfied his
- own conscience and prevented the possibility of his being consumed for
- days after with a gnawing remorse.
- </p>
- <p>
- The bishop had his own ideas of entertaining his guests—a matter
- which his son brought under his consideration after the invitations had
- been issued.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is not such a thing as a rising tenor in the colony, I am
- sure,” said Mr. Glaston, whose experience of perfect social
- entertainment was limited to that afforded by London drawing-rooms.
- “If we had a rising tenor, there would be no difficulty about these
- people.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, no, I suppose not,” said the bishop. “But I was
- thinking, Algernon, that if you would allow your pictures to be hung for
- the evening, and explain them, you know, it would be interesting.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, by lamplight? They are not drop-scenes of a theatre, let me
- remind you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no; but you see your theories of explanation would be
- understood by our good friends as well by lamplight as by daylight, and I
- am sure every one would be greatly interested.” Mr. Glaston promised
- his father to think over the matter, and his father expressed his
- gratitude for this concession. “And as for myself,” continued
- the bishop, giving his hands the least little rub together, “I would
- suggest reading a few notes on a most important subject, to which I have
- devoted some attention lately. My notes I would propose heading 'Observations
- on Phenomena of Automatic Cerebration amongst some of the Cannibal Tribes
- of the Salamander Archipelago.' I have some excellent specimens of
- skulls illustrative of the subject.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Glaston looked at his father for a considerable time without speaking;
- at last he said quietly, “I think I had better show my pictures.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And my paper—my notes?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Impossible,” said the young man, rising. “Utterly
- Impossible;” and he left the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- The bishop felt slightly hurt by his son's manner. He had treasured
- up his notes on the important observations he had made in an interesting
- part of his diocese, and he had looked forward with anxiety to a moment
- when he could reveal the result of his labours to the world, and yet his
- son had, when the opportunity presented itself, declared the revelation
- impossible. The bishop felt slightly hurt.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, however, he had got over his grievance, and he was able to smile as
- usual upon each of his guests.
- </p>
- <p>
- The dinner-party was small and select. There were two judges present, one
- of whom brought his wife and a daughter. Then there were two members of
- the Legislative Council, one with a son, the other with a daughter; a
- clergyman who had attained to the dizzy ecclesiastical eminence of a
- colonial deanery, and his partner in the dignity of his office. The
- Macnamara and Standish were there, and Mr. Harwood, together with the Army
- Boot Commissioner and Mrs. Crawford, the last of whom arrived with Colonel
- Gerald and Daireen.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford had been right. The bishop was charmed with Daireen, and so
- expressed himself while he took her hand in his and gave her the
- benediction of a smile. Poor Standish, seeing her so lovely as she was
- standing there, felt his soul full of love and devotion. What was all the
- rest of the world compared with her, he thought; the aggregate beauty of
- the universe, including the loveliness of the Miss Van der Veldt who was
- in the drawing-room, was insignificant by the side of a single curl of
- Daireen's wonderful hair. Mr. Harwood looked towards her also, but
- his thoughts were somewhat more complicated than those of Standish.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is not Daireen perfection?” whispered Mrs. Crawford to
- Algernon Glaston.
- </p>
- <p>
- The bishop's son glanced at the girl critically.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I cannot understand that band of black velvet with a pearl in front
- of it,” he said. “I feel it to be a mistake—yes, it is
- an error for which I am sorry; I begin to fear it was designed only as a
- bold contrast. It is sad—very sad.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford was chilled. She had never seen Daireen look so lovely. She
- felt for more than a moment that she was all unmeet for a wife, so
- child-like she seemed. And now the terrible thought suggested itself to
- Mrs. Crawford: what if Mr. Glaston's opinion was, after all,
- fallible? might it be possible that his judgment could be in error? The
- very suggestion of such a thought sent a cold thrill of fear through her.
- No, no: she would not admit such a possibility.
- </p>
- <p>
- The dinner was proceeded with, after the fashion of most dinners, in a
- highly satisfactory manner. The guests were arranged with discrimination
- in accordance with a programme of Mrs. Crawford's, and the
- conversation was unlimited.
- </p>
- <p>
- Much to the dissatisfaction of The Macnamara the men went to the
- drawing-room before they had remained more than ten minutes over their
- claret. One of the young ladies of the colony had been induced to sing
- with the judge's son a certain duet called “La ci darem la
- mano;” and this was felt to be extremely agreeable by every one
- except the bishop's son. The bishop thanked the young lady very
- much, and then resumed his explanation to a group of his guests of the
- uses of some implements of war and agriculture brought from the tribes of
- the Salamander Archipelago.
- </p>
- <p>
- Three of the pictures of Mr. Glaston's collection were hung in the
- room, the most important being that marvellous Aholibah: it was placed
- upon a small easel at the farthest end of the room, a lamp being at each
- side. A group had gathered round the picture, and Mr. Glaston with the
- utmost goodnature repeated the story of its creation. Daireen had glanced
- towards the picture, and again that little shudder came over her.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was sitting in the centre of the room upon an ottoman beside Mrs.
- Crawford and Mr. Harwood. Standish was in a group at the lower end, while
- his father was demonstrating how infinitely superior were the weapons
- found in the bogs of Ireland to the Salamander specimens. The bishop moved
- gently over to Daireen and explained to her the pleasure it would be
- giving every one in the room if she would consent to sing something.
- </p>
- <p>
- At once Daireen rose and went to the piano. A song came to her lips as she
- laid her hand upon the keys of the instrument, and her pure earnest voice
- sang the words that came back to her:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- From my life the light has waned:
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Every golden gleam that shone
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Through the dimness now has gone:
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Of all joys has one remained?
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Stays one gladness I have known?
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Day is past; I stand, alone,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Here beneath these darkened skies,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Asking—“Doth a star arise?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- She ended with a passion that touched every one who heard her, and then
- there was a silence for some moments, before the door of the room was
- pushed open to the wall, and a voice said, “Bravo, my dear, bravo!”
- in no weak tones.
- </p>
- <p>
- All eyes turned towards the door. Mr. Despard entered, wearing an ill-made
- dress-suit, with an enormous display of shirt-front, big studs, and a
- large rose in his button-hole.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I stayed outside till the song was over,” he said. “Bless
- your souls, I've got a feeling for music, and hang me if I've
- heard anything that could lick that tune.” Then he nodded
- confidentially to the bishop. “What do you say, Bishop? What do you
- say, King? am I right or wrong? Why, we're all here—all of our
- set—the colonel too—how are you, Colonel?—and the editor—how
- we all do manage to meet somehow! Birds of a feather—you know. Make
- yourselves at home, don't mind me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He walked slowly up the room smiling rather more broadly than the bishop
- was in the habit of doing, on all sides. He did not stop until he was
- opposite the picture of Aholibah on the easel. Here he did stop. He seemed
- to be even more appreciative of pictorial art than of musical. He bent
- forward, gazing into that picture, regardless of the embarrassing silence
- there was in the room while every one looked towards him. He could not see
- how all eyes were turned upon him, so absorbed had he become before that
- picture.
- </p>
- <p>
- The bishop was now certainly not smiling. He walked slowly to the man's
- side.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir,” said the bishop, “you have chosen an inopportune
- time for a visit. I must beg of you to retire.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the man seemed to be recalled to consciousness. He glanced up from
- the picture and looked into the bishop's face. He pointed with one
- hand to the picture, and then threw himself back in a chair with a roar of
- laughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By heavens, this is a bigger surprise than seeing Oswin himself,”
- he cried. “Where is Oswin?—not here?—he should be here—he
- must see it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was Harwood's voice that said, “What do you mean?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mean, Mr. Editor?” said Despard. “Mean? Haven't I
- told you what I mean? By heavens, I forgot that I was at the Cape—I
- thought I was still in Melbourne! Good, by Jingo, and all through looking
- at that bit of paint!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Explain yourself, sir?” said Harwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Explain?” said the man. “That there explains itself.
- Look at that picture. The woman in that picture is Oswin Markham's
- wife, the Italian he brought to Australia, where he left her. That's
- plain enough. A deucedly fine woman she is, though they never did get on
- together. Hallo! What's the matter with Missy there? My God! she's
- going to faint.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Daireen Gerald did not faint. Her father had his arm about her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Papa,” she whispered faintly,—“Papa, take me
- home.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My darling,” said Colonel Gerald. “Do not look like
- that. For God's sake, Daireen, don't look like that.”
- They were standing outside waiting for the carriage to come up; for
- Daireen had walked from the room without faltering.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not mind me,” she said. “I am strong—yes—very—very
- strong.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He lifted her into the carriage, and was at the point of entering himself,
- when the figure of Mrs. Crawford appeared among the palm plants.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good heavens, George! what is the meaning of this?” she said
- in a whisper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go back!” cried Colonel Gerald sternly. “Go back! This
- is some more of your work. You shall never see my child again!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He stepped into the carriage. The major's wife was left standing in
- the porch thunderstruck at such a reproach coming from the colonel. Was
- this the reward of her labour—to stand among the palms, listening to
- the passing away of the carriage wheels?
- </p>
- <p>
- It was not until the Dutch cottage had been reached that Daireen, in the
- darkness of the room, laid her head upon her father's shoulder.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Papa,” she whispered again, “take me home—let us
- go home together.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My darling, you are at home now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, papa, I don't mean that; I mean home—I home—Glenmara.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will, Daireen: we shall go away from here. We shall be happy
- together in the old house.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” she said. “Happy—happy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you mean, sir?” said the <i>maître d'hôtel</i>,
- referring to a question put to him by Despard, who had been brought away
- from the bishop's house by Harwood in a diplomatically friendly
- manner. “What do you mean? Didn't Mr. Markham tell you he was
- going?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Going—where?” said Harwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To Natal, sir? I felt sure that he had told you, though he didn't
- speak to us. Yes, he left in the steamer for Natal two hours ago.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Squaring everything?” asked Despard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sir!” said the <i>maître</i>; “Mr. Markham was a
- gentleman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was half a sovereign he gave you then,” remarked Despard.
- Then turning to Harwood, he said: “Well, Mr. Editor, this is the end
- of all, I fancy. We can't expect much after this. He's gone
- now, and I'm infernally sorry for him, for Oswin was a good sort. By
- heavens, didn't I burst in on the bishop's party like a
- greased shrapnel? I had taken a little better than a glass of brandy
- before I went there, so I was in good form. Yes, Paulina is the name of
- his wife. He had picked her up in Italy or thereabouts. That's what
- made his friends send him off to Australia. He was punished for his sins,
- for that woman made his life a hell to him. Now we'll take the
- tinsel off a bottle of Moët together.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said Harwood; “not to-night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He left the room and went upstairs, for now indeed this psychological
- analyst had an intricate problem to work out. It was a long time before he
- was able to sleep.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XLI.
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_CONC" id="link2H_CONC"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CONCLUSION.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- What is it you would see?
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And let me speak to the yet unknowing world
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- How these things came about: so shall you hear
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Of accidental judgments...
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- purposes mistook.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- ... let this same be presently performed
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- ... lest more mischance
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- On plots and errors happen.—<i>Hamlet.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>ITTLE more remains
- to be told to complete the story of the few months of the lives of the
- people whose names have appeared in these pages in illustration of how
- hardly things go right.
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon that night, after the bishop's little dinnerparty, every one,
- except Mr. Despard, seemed to have a bitter consciousness of how terribly
- astray things had gone. It seemed hopeless to think that anything could
- possibly be made right again. If Mrs. Crawford had not been a pious woman
- and a Christian, she would have been inclined to say that the Fates, which
- had busied themselves with the disarrangement of her own carefully
- constructed plans, had become inebriated with their success and were
- wantoning in the confusion of the mortals who had been their playthings.
- Should any one have ventured to interpret her thoughts after this fashion,
- however, Mrs. Crawford would have been indignant and would have assured
- her accuser that her only thought was how hardly things go right. And
- perhaps, indeed, the sum of her thoughts could not have been expressed by
- words of fuller meaning.
- </p>
- <p>
- She had been careful beyond all her previous carefulness that her plans
- for the future of Daireen Gerald should be arranged so as to insure their
- success; and yet, what was the result of days of thoughtfulness and
- unwearying toil, she asked herself as she was driving homeward under the
- heavy oak branches amongst which a million fire-flies were flitting. This
- feeling of defeat—nay, even of shame, for the words Colonel Gerald
- had spoken to her in his bitterness of spirit were still in her mind—was
- this the result of her care, her watchfulness, her skill of organisation?
- Truly Mrs. Crawford felt that she had reason for thinking herself
- ill-treated.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Major,” she said solemnly to the Army Boot Commissioner as he
- partook of some simple refreshment in the way of brandy and water before
- retiring for the night—“Major, listen to me while I tell you
- that I wash my hands clear of these people. Daireen Gerald has
- disappointed me; she has made a fool both of herself and of me; and George
- Gerald grossly insulted me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did he really now?” said the major compassionately, as he
- added another thimbleful of the contents of the bottle to his tumbler.
- “Upon my soul it was too bad of George—a devilish deal too bad
- of him.” Here the major emptied his tumbler. He was feeling bitterly
- the wrong done to his wife as he yawned and searched in the dimness for a
- cheroot.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wash my hands clear of them all,” continued the lady.
- “The bishop is a poor thing to allow himself to be led by that son
- of his, and the son is a——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For God's sake take care, Kate; a bishop, you know, is not
- like the rest of the people.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is a weak thing, I say,” continued Mrs. Crawford firmly.
- “And his son is—a—puppy. But I have done with them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And <i>for</i> them,” said the major, striking a light.
- </p>
- <p>
- Thus it was that Mrs. Crawford relieved her pent-up feelings as she went
- to her bed; but in spite of the disappointment Daireen had caused her, and
- the gross insult she had received from Daireen's father, before she
- went to sleep she had asked herself if it might not be well to forgive
- George Gerald and to beg of him to show some additional attention to Mr.
- Harwood, who was, all things considered, a most deserving man, besides
- being a distinguished person and a clever. Yes, she thought that this
- would be a prudent step for Colonel Gerald to take at once. If Daireen had
- made a mistake, it was sad, to be sure, but there was no reason why it
- might not be retrieved, Mrs. Crawford felt; and she fell asleep without
- any wrath in her heart against her old friend George Gerald.
- </p>
- <p>
- And Arthur Harwood, as he stood in his room at the hotel and looked out to
- the water of Table Bay, had the truth very strongly forced upon him that
- things had gone far wrong indeed, and with a facility of error that was
- terrifying. He felt that he alone could fully appreciate how terribly
- astray everything had gone. He saw in a single glance all of the past; and
- his scrupulously just conscience did not fail to give him credit for
- having at least surmised something of the truth that had just been brought
- to light. From the first—even before he had seen the man—he
- had suspected Oswin Markham; and, subsequently, had he not perceived—or
- at any rate fancied that he perceived—something of the feeling that
- existed between Markham and Daireen?
- </p>
- <p>
- His conscience gave him ample credit for his perception; but after all,
- this was an unsatisfactory set-off against the weight of his reflections
- on the subject of the general error of affairs that concerned him closely,
- not the least of which was the unreasonable conduct of the Zulu monarch
- who had rejected the British ultimatum, and who thus necessitated the
- presence of a special correspondent in his dominions. Harwood, seeing the
- position of everything at a glance, had come to the conclusion that it
- would be impossible for him, until some months had passed, to tell Daireen
- all that he believed was in his heart. He knew that she had loved that man
- whom she had saved from death, and who had rewarded her by behaving as a
- ruffian towards her; still Mr. Harwood, like Mrs. Crawford, felt that her
- mistake was not irretrievable. But if he himself were now compelled by the
- conduct of this wretched savage to leave Cape Town for an indefinite
- period, how should he have an opportunity of pointing out to Daireen the
- direction in which her happiness lay? Mr. Harwood was not generously
- disposed towards the Zulu monarch.
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon descending to the coffee-room in the morning, he found Mr. Despard
- sitting somewhat moodily at the table. Harwood was beginning to think, now
- that Mr. Despard's mission in life had been performed, there could
- be no reason why his companionship should be sought. But Mr. Despard was
- not at all disposed to allow his rapidly conceived friendship for Harwood
- to be cut short.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hallo, Mr. Editor, you're down at last, are you?” he
- cried. “The colonel didn't go up to, your room, you bet,
- though he did to me—fine old boy is he, by my soul—plenty of
- good work in him yet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The colonel? Was Colonel Gerald here?” asked Harwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was, Mr. Editor; he was here just to see me, and have a friendly
- morning chat. We've taken to each other, has the colonel and me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He heard that Markham had gone? You told him, no doubt?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Editor, sir,” said Despard, rising to his feet and
- keeping himself comparatively steady by grasping the edge of the table,—“Mr.
- Editor, there are things too sacred to be divulged even to the Press.
- There are feelings—emotions—chords of the human heart—you
- know all that sort of thing—the bond of friendship between the
- colonel and me is something like that. What I told him will never be
- divulged while I'm sober. Oswin had his faults, no doubt, but for
- that matter I have mine. Which of us is perfect, Mr. Editor? Why, here's
- this innocent-looking lad that's coming to me with another bottle of
- old Irish, hang me if he isn't a walking receptacle of bribery and
- corruption! What, are you off?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Harwood was off, nor did he think if necessary to go through the
- formality of shaking hands with the moraliser at the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was on the day following that Mrs. Crawford called at Colonel Gerald's
- cottage at Mowbray. She gave a start when she saw that the little hall was
- blocked up with packing-cases. One of them was an old military camp-box,
- and upon the end of it was painted in dimly white letters the name “Lieutenant
- George Gerald.” Seeing it now as she had often seen it in the days
- at the Indian station, the poor old campaigner sat down on a tin
- uniform-case and burst into tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Kate, dear good Kate,” said Colonel Gerald, laying his hand
- on her shoulder. “What is the matter, my dear girl?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, George, George!” sobbed the lady, “look at that
- case there—look at it, and think of the words you spoke to me two
- nights ago. Oh, George, George!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “God forgive me, Kate, I was unjust—ungenerous. Oh, Kate, you
- do not know how I had lost myself as the bitter truth was forced upon me.
- You have forgiven me long ago, have you not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have, George,” she said, putting her hand in his. “God
- knows I have forgiven you. But what is the meaning of this? You are not
- going away, surely?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We leave by the mail to-morrow, Kate,” said the colonel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good gracious, is it so bad as that?” asked the lady,
- alarmed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bad? there is nothing bad now, my dear. We only feel—Dolly
- and myself—that we must have a few months together amongst our
- native Irish mountains before we set out for the distant Castaways.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford looked into his face earnestly for some moments. “Poor
- darling little Dolly,” she said in a voice full of compassion;
- “she has met with a great grief, but I pray that all may yet be
- well. I will not see her now, but I will say farewell to her aboard the
- steamer to-morrow. Give her my love, George. God knows how dear she is to
- me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Colonel Gerald put his arms about his old friend and kissed her silently.
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon the afternoon of the next day the crowd about the stern of the mail
- steamer which was at the point of leaving for England was very large. But
- it is only necessary to refer to a few of the groups on the deck. Colonel
- Gerald and his old friend Major Crawford were side by side, while Daireen
- and the major's wife were standing apart looking together up to the
- curved slopes of the tawny Lion's Head that half hid the dark, flat
- face of Table Mountain. Daireen was pale almost to whiteness, and as her
- considerate friend said some agreeable words to her she smiled faintly,
- but the observant Standish felt that her smile was not real, it was only a
- phantom of the smiles of the past which had lived upon her face. Standish
- was beside his father, who had been so fortunate as to obtain the
- attention of Mr. Harwood for the story of the wrongs he had suffered
- through the sale of his property in Ireland.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is there left for me in the counthry of my sires that bled?”
- he inquired with an emphasis that almost amounted to passion. “The
- sthrangers that have torn the land away from us thrample us into the dust.
- No, sir, I'll never return to be thrampled upon; I'll go with
- my son to the land of our exile—the distant Castaway isles, where
- the flag of freedom may yet burn as a beacon above the thunderclouds of
- our enemies. Return to the land that has been torn from us? Never.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Standish, who could have given a very good guess as to the number of The
- Macnamara's creditors awaiting his return with anxiety, if not
- impatience, moved away quickly, and Daireen noticed his action. She
- whispered a word to Mrs. Crawford, and in another instant she and Standish
- were together. She gave him her hand, and each looked into the other's
- face speechlessly for a few moments. On her face there was a faint tender
- smile, but his was full of passionate entreaty, the force of which made
- his eyes tremulous.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Standish, dear old Standish,” she said; “you alone seem
- good and noble and true. You will not forget all the happy days we have
- had together.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Forget them?” said Standish. “Oh, Daireen, if you could
- but know all—if you could but know how I think of every day we have
- passed together. What else is there in the world worth thinking about? Oh,
- Daireen, you know that I have always thought of you only—that I will
- always think of you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not yet, Standish,” she whispered. “Do not say anything
- to me—no, nothing—yet. But you will write every week, and tell
- me how the Castaway people are getting on, until we come out to you at the
- islands.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Daireen, do all the days we have passed together at home—on
- the lough—on the mountain, go for nothing?” he cried almost
- sadly. “Oh, my darling, surely we cannot part in this way. Your life
- is not wrecked.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, not wrecked,” she said with a start, and he knew she
- was struggling to be strong.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will be happy, Daireen, you will indeed, after a while. And you
- will give me a word of hope now—one little word to make me happy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked at him—tearfully—lovingly. “Dear Standish, I
- can only give you one word. Will it comfort you at all if I say <i>Hope</i>,
- Standish?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My darling, my love! I knew it would come right in the end. The
- world I knew could not be so utterly forsaken by God but that everything
- should come right.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is only one word I have given you,” she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But what a word, Daireen! oh, the dearest and best word I ever
- heard breathed. God bless you, darling! God bless you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He did not make any attempt to kiss her: he only held her white hand
- tightly for an instant and looked into her pure, loving eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, my boy, good-bye,” said Colonel Gerald, laying his hand
- upon Standish's shoulder. “You will leave next week for the
- Castaways, and you will, I know, be careful to obey to the letter the
- directions of those in command until I come out to you. You must write a
- complete diary, as I told you—ah, there goes the gun! Daireen, here
- is Mr. Harwood waiting to shake hands with you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Harwood's hand was soon in the girl's.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good-bye, Miss Gerald. I trust you will sometimes give me a
- thought,” he said quietly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall never forget you, Mr. Harwood,” she said as she
- returned his grasp.
- </p>
- <p>
- In another instant, as it seemed to the group on the shore, the good
- steamer passing out of the bay had dwindled down to that white piece of
- linen which a little hand waved over the stern.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Harwood,” said Mrs. Crawford, as the special
- correspondent brought the major's wife to a wagonette,—“Mr.
- Harwood, I fear we have been terribly wrong. But indeed all the wrong was
- not mine. You, I know, will not blame me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I blame you, Mrs. Crawford? Do not think of such a thing,”
- said Harwood. “No; no one is to blame. Fate was too much for both of
- us, Mrs. Crawford. But all is over now. All the past days with her near us
- are now no more than pleasant memories. I go round to Natal in two days,
- and then to my work in the camp.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Mr. Harwood, what ruffians there are in this world!” said
- the lady just before they parted. Mr. Harwood smiled his acquiescence. His
- own experience in the world had led him to arrive unassisted at a similar
- conclusion.
- </p>
- <p>
- Arthur Harwood kept his work and left by the steamer for Natal two days
- afterwards; and in the same steamer Mr. Despard took passage also,
- declaring his intention to enlist on the side of the Zulus. Upon reaching
- Algoa Bay, however, he went ashore and did not put in an appearance at the
- departure of the steamer from the port; so that Mr. Harwood was deprived
- of his companionship, which had hitherto been pretty close, but which
- promised to become even more so. As there was in the harbour a small
- vessel about to proceed to Australia, the anxiety of the special
- correspondent regarding the future of the man never reached a point of
- embarrassment.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next week Standish Macnamara, accompanied by his father, left for the
- Castaway Islands, where he was to take up his position as secretary to the
- new governor of the sunny group. Standish was full of eagerness to begin
- his career of hard and noble work in the world. He felt that there would
- be a large field for the exercise of his abilities in the Castaways, and
- with the word that Daireen had given him living in his heart to inspire
- all his actions, he felt that there was nothing too hard for him to
- accomplish, even to compelling his father to return to Ireland before six
- months should have passed.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was on a cool afternoon towards the end of this week, that Mrs.
- Crawford was walking under the trees in the gardens opposite Government
- House, when she heard a pleasant little musical laugh behind her,
- accompanied by the pat of dainty little high-heeled shoes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear, good Mrs. Crawford, why will you walk so terribly fast? It
- quite took away the breath of poor little me to follow you,” came
- the voice of Lottie Vincent Mrs. Crawford turned, and as she was with a
- friend, she could not avoid allowing her stout hand to be touched by one
- of Lottie's ten-buttoned gloves. “Ah, you are surprised to see
- me,” continued the young lady. “I am surprised myself to find
- myself here, but papa would not hear of my remaining at Natal when he went
- on to the frontier with the regiment, so I am staying with a friend in
- Cape Town. Algernon is here, but the dear boy is distressed by the number
- of people. Poor Algy is so sensitive.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor who?” cried Mrs. Crawford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, good gracious, what have I said?” exclaimed the artless
- little thing, blushing very prettily, and appearing as tremulous as a
- fluttered dove. “Ah, my dear Mrs. Crawford, I never thought of
- concealing it from you for a moment. I meant to tell you the first of any
- one in the world—I did indeed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To tell me what?” asked the major's wife sternly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Surely you know that the dear good bishop has given his consent to—to—do
- help me out of my difficulty of explaining, Mrs. Crawford.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To your becoming the wife of his son?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I knew you would not ask me to say it all so terribly plainly,”
- said Lottie. “Ah yes, dear Algy was too importunate for poor little
- me to resist; I pitied him and promised to become his for ever. We are
- devoted to each other, for there is no bond so fast as that of artistic
- sympathy, Mrs. Crawford. I meant to write and thank you for your dear
- good-natured influence, which, I know, brought about his proposal. It was
- all due, I frankly acknowledge, to your kindness in bringing us together
- upon the day of that delightful lunch we had at the grove of silver
- leaves. How can I ever thank you? But there is darling Algy looking quite
- bored. I must rush to him,” she continued, as she saw Mrs. Crawford
- about to speak. Lottie did not think it prudent to run the risk of hearing
- Mrs. Crawford refer to certain little Indian affairs connected with Lottie's
- residence at that agreeable station on the Himalayas; so she kissed the
- tips of her gloves, and tripped away to where Mr. Algernon Glaston was
- sitting on one of the garden seats.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is a wicked girl,” said Mrs. Crawford to her companion.
- “She has at last succeeded in finding some one foolish enough to be
- entrapped by her. Never mind, she has conquered—I admit that. Oh,
- this world, this world!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And there can hardly be a doubt that Miss Lottie Vincent, all things
- considered, might be said to have conquered. She was engaged to marry
- Algernon Glaston, the son of the Bishop of the Calapash Islands and
- Metropolitan of the Salamander Group, and this to Lottie meant conquest.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of Oswin Markham only a few words need be spoken to close this story, such
- as it is. Oswin Markham was once more seen by Harwood. Two months after
- the outbreak of the war the special correspondent, in the exercise of his
- duty, was one night riding by the Tugela, where a fierce engagement had
- taken place between the Zulus and the British troops. The dead, black and
- white, were lying together—assagai and rifle intermixed. Harwood
- looked at the white upturned faces of the dead men that the moonlight made
- more ghastly, and amongst those faces he saw the stern clear-cut features
- of Oswin Markham. He was in the uniform of a Natal volunteer. Harwood gave
- a start, but only one; he stood above the dead man for a long time, lost
- in his own thoughts. Then the pioneers, who were burying the dead, came
- up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor wretch, poor wretch!” he said slowly, standing there in
- the moonlight. “Poor wretch!... If she had never seen him... if...
- Poor child!”
- </p>
- <div style="height: 6em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
-<pre xml:space="preserve">
-
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