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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..8498672 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51938 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51938) diff --git a/old/51938-0.txt b/old/51938-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 861f1c8..0000000 --- a/old/51938-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12780 +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 - Complete - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51938] -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 - -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 I. - - - A king - - Upon whose property... - - A damn'd defeat was made. - - A king - - Of shreds and patches. - -The very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in this box; and must -the inheritor himself have no more? _Hamlet._ - - -|MY son,” said The Macnamara with an air of grandeur, “my son, you've -forgotten what's due”--he pronounced it “jew”--“to yourself, what's -due to your father, what's due to your forefathers that bled,” and -The Macnamara waved his hand gracefully; then, taking advantage of its -proximity to the edge of the table, he made a powerful but ineffectual -attempt to pull himself to his feet. Finding himself baffled by the -peculiar formation of his chair, and not having a reserve of breath to -draw upon for another exertion, he concealed his defeat under a pretence -of feeling indifferent on the matter of rising, and continued fingering -the table-edge as if endeavouring to read the initials which had been -carved pretty deeply upon the oak by a humorous guest just where his -hand rested. “Yes, my son, you've forgotten the blood of your ancient -sires. You forget, my son, that you're the offspring of the Macnamaras -and the O'Dermots, kings of Munster in the days when there were kings, -and when the Geralds were walking about in blue paint in the woods -of the adjacent barbarous island of Britain”--The Macnamara said -“barbarious.” - -“The Geralds have been at Suanmara for four hundred years,” said -Standish quickly, and in the tone of one resenting an aspersion. - -“Four hundred years!” cried The Macnamara scornfully. “Four hundred -years! What's four hundred years in the existence of a family?” He felt -that this was the exact instant for him to rise grandly to his feet, -so once more he made the essay, but without a satisfactory result. As -a matter of fact, it is almost impossible to release oneself from the -embrace of a heavy oak chair when the seat has been formed of light -cane, and this cane has become tattered. - -“I don't care about the kings of Munster--no, not a bit,” said Standish, -taking a mean advantage of the involuntary captivity of his father to -insult him. - -“I'm dead sick hearing about them. They never did anything for me.” - -The Macnamara threw back his head, clasped his hands over his bosom, -and gazed up to the cobwebs of the oak ceiling. “My sires--shades of -the Macnamaras and the O'Dermots, visit not the iniquity of the children -upon the fathers,” he exclaimed. And then there came a solemn pause -which the hereditary monarch felt should impress his son deeply; but -the son was not deceived into fancying that his father was overcome with -emotion; he knew very well that his father was only thinking how with -dignity he could extricate himself from his awkward chair, and so he -was not deeply affected. “My boy, my boy,” the father murmured in a weak -voice, after his apostrophe to the shades of the ceiling, “what do you -mean to do? Keep nothing secret from me, Standish; I'll stand by you to -the last.” - -“I don't mean to do anything. There is nothing to be done--at -least--yet.” - -“What's that you say? Nothing to be done? You don't mean to say you've -been thrifling with the young-woman's affection? Never shall a son of -mine, and the offspring of The Macnamaras and the----” - -“How can you put such a question to me?” said the young man indignantly. -“I throw back the insinuation in your teeth, though you are my father. -I would scorn to trifle with the feelings of any lady, not to speak of -Miss Gerald, who is purer than the lily that blooms----” - -“In the valley of Shanganagh--that's what you said in the poem, my boy; -and it's true, I'm sure.” - -“But because you find a scrap of poetry in my writing you fancy that I -forget my--my duty--my----” - -“Mighty sires, Standish; say the word at once, man. Well, maybe I was -too hasty, my boy; and if you tell me that you don't love her now, I'll -forgive all.” - -“Never,” cried the young man, with the vehemence of a mediaeval burning -martyr. “I swear that I love her, and that it would be impossible for me -ever to think of any one else.” - -“This is cruel--cruel!” murmured The Macnamara, still thinking how he -could extricate himself from his uneasy seat. “It is cruel for a father, -but it must be borne--it must be borne. If our ancient house is to -degenerate to a Saxon's level, I'm not to blame. Standish, my boy, I -forgive you. Take your father's hand.” - -He stretched out his hand, and the young man took it. The grasp of The -Macnamara was fervent--it did not relax until he had accomplished the -end he had in view, and had pulled himself to his feet. Standish was -about to leave the room, when his father, turning his eyes away from -the tattered cane-work of the chair, that now closely resembled the -star-trap in a pantomime, cried: - -“Don't go yet, sir. This isn't to end here. Didn't you tell me that your -affection was set upon this daughter of the Geralds?” - -“What is the use of continuing such questions?” cried the young man -impatiently. The reiteration by his father of this theme--the most -sacred to Standish's ears--was exasperating. - -“No son of mine will be let sneak out of an affair like this,” said -the hereditary monarch. “We may be poor, sir, poor as a bogtrotter's -dog----” - -“And we are,” interposed Standish bitterly. - -“But we have still the memories of the grand old times to live upon, -and the name of Macnamara was never joined with anything but honour. You -love that daughter of the Geralds--you've confessed it; and though the -family she belongs to is one of these mushroom growths that's springing -up around us in three or four hundred years--ay, in spite of the upstart -family she belongs to, I'll give my consent to your happiness. We -mustn't be proud in these days, my son, though the blood of kings--eh, -where do ye mean to be going before I've done?” - -“I thought you had finished.” - -“Did you? well, you're mistaken. You don't stir from here until you've -promised me to make all the amends in your power to this daughter of the -Geralds.” - -“Amends? I don't understand you.” - -“Don't you tell me you love her?” - -The refrain which was so delightful to the young man's ears when he -uttered it alone by night under the pure stars, sounded terrible when -reiterated by his father. But what could he do--his father was now upon -his feet? - -“What is the use of profaning her name in this fashion?” cried Standish. -“If I said I loved her, it was only when you accused me of it and -threatened to turn me out of the house.” - -“And out of the house you'll go if you don't give me a straightforward -answer.” - -“I don't care,” cried Standish doggedly. “What is there here that should -make me afraid of your threat? I want to be turned out. I'm sick of this -place.” - -“Heavens! what has come over the boy that he has taken to speaking like -this? Are ye demented, my son?” - -“No such thing,” said Standish. “Only I have been thinking for the past -few days over my position here, and I have come to the conclusion that I -couldn't be worse off.” - -“You've been thinking, have you?” asked The Macnamara contemptuously. -“You depart so far from the traditions of your family? Well, well,” - he continued in an altered tone, after a pause, “maybe I've been a bad -father to you, Standish, maybe I've neglected my duty; maybe----” here -The Macnamara felt for his pocket-handkerchief, and having found it, he -waved it spasmodically, and was about to throw himself into his chair -when he recollected its defects and refrained, even though he was well -aware that he was thereby sacrificing much of the dramatic effect up to -which he had been working. - -“No, father; I don't want to say that you have been anything but good to -me, only----” - -“But I say it, my son,” said The Macnamara, mopping his brows earnestly -with his handkerchief. “I've been a selfish old man, haven't I, now?” - -“No, no, anything but that. You have only been too good. You have given -me all I ever wanted--except----” - -“Except what? Ah, I know what you mean--except money. Ah, your reproach -is bitter--bitter; but I deserve it all, I do.” - -“No, father: I did not say that at all.” - -“But I'll show you, my boy, that your father can be generous once of a -time. You love her, don't you, Standish?” - -His father had laid his hand upon his shoulder now, and spoke the words -in a sentimental whisper, so that they did not sound so profane as -before. - -“I worship the ground she treads on,” his son answered, tremulous with -eagerness, a girlish blush suffusing his cheeks and invading the curls -upon his forehead, as he turned his head away. - -“Then I'll show you that I can be generous. You shall have her, Standish -Macnamara; I'll give her to you, though she is one of the new families. -Put on your hat, my boy, and come out with me.” - -“Are you going out?” said Standish. - -“I am, so order round the car, if the spring is mended. It should be, -for I gave Eugene the cord for it yesterday.” - -Standish made a slight pause at the door as if about to put another -question to his father; after a moment of thoughtfulness, however, he -passed out in silence. - -When the door had closed--or, at least, moved upon its hinges, for the -shifting some years previously of a portion of the framework made its -closing an impossibility--The Macnamara put his hands deep into -his pockets, jingling the copper coins and the iron keys that each -receptacle contained. It is wonderful what suggestions of wealth may be -given by the judicious handling of a few coppers and a bunch of keys, -and the imagination of The Macnamara being particularly sanguine, he -felt that the most scrupulous moneylender would have offered him at that -moment, on the security of his personal appearance and the sounds of his -jingling metal, any sum of money he might have named. He rather wished -that such a moneylender would drop in. But soon his thoughts changed. -The jingling in his pockets became modified, resembling in tone an -unsound peal of muffled bells; he shook his head several times. - -“Macnamara, my lad, you were too weak,” he muttered to himself. “You -yielded too soon; you should have stood out for a while; but how could I -stand out when I was sitting in that trap?” - -He turned round glaring at the chair which he blamed as the cause of -his premature relaxation. He seemed measuring its probable capacities of -resistance; and then he raised his right foot and scrutinised the boot -that covered it. It was not a trustworthy boot, he knew. Once more he -glanced towards the chair, then with a sigh he put his foot down and -walked to the window. - -Past the window at this instant the car was moving, drawn by a -humble-minded horse, which in its turn was drawn by a boy in a faded -and dilapidated livery that had evidently been originally made for -a remarkably tall man. The length of the garment, though undeniably -embarrassing in the region of the sleeves, had still its advantages, not -the least of which was the concealment of a large portion of the bare -legs of the wearer; it was obvious too that when he should mount his -seat, the boy's bare feet would be effectually hidden, and from a -livery-wearing standpoint this would certainly be worth consideration. - -The Macnamara gave a critical glance through the single transparent -pane of the window--the pane had been honoured above its fellows by a -polishing about six weeks before--and saw that the defective spring of -the vehicle had been repaired. Coarse twine had been employed for this -purpose; but as this material, though undoubtedly excellent in its way, -and of very general utility, is hardly the most suitable for restoring -a steel spring to its original condition of elasticity, there was a good -deal of jerkiness apparent in the motion of the car, especially when -the wheels turned into the numerous ruts of the drive. The boy at the -horse's head was, however, skilful in avoiding the deeper depths, and -the animal was also most considerate in its gait, checking within itself -any unseemly outburst of spirit and restraining every propensity to -break into a trot. - -“Now, father, I'm ready,” said Standish, entering with his hat on. - -“Has Eugene brushed my hat?” asked The Macnamara. - -“My black hat, I mean?” - -“I didn't know you were going to wear it today, when you were only -taking a drive,” said Standish with some astonishment. - -“Yes, my boy, I'll wear the black hat, please God, so get it brushed; -and tell him that if he uses the blacking-brush this time I'll have his -life.” Standish went out to deliver these messages; but The Mac-namara -stood in the centre of the big room pondering over some weighty -question. - -“I will,” he muttered, as though a better impulse of his nature were -in the act of overcoming an unworthy suggestion. “Yes, I will; when I'm -wearing the black hat things should be levelled up to that standard; -yes, I will.” - -Standish entered in a few minutes with his father's hat--a tall, -old-fashioned silk hat that had at one time, pretty far remote, been -black. The Macnamara put it on carefully, after he had just touched the -edges with his coat-cuff to remove the least suspicion of dust; then he -strode out followed by his son. - -The car was standing at the hall door, and Eugene the driver was beside -it, giving a last look to the cordage of the spring. When The Macnamara, -however, appeared, he sprang up and touched his forehead, with a smile -of remarkable breadth. The Macnamara stood impassive, and in dignified -silence, looking first at the horse, then at the car, and finally at the -boy Eugene, while Standish remained at the other side. Eugene bore the -gaze of the hereditary monarch pretty well on the whole, conscious of -the abundance of his own coat. The scrutiny of The Macnamara passed -gradually down the somewhat irregular row of buttons until it rested -on the protruding bare feet of the boy. Then after another moment of -impressive silence, he waved one hand gracefully towards the door, -saying: - -“Eugene, get on your boots.” - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - - Let the world take note - - You are the most immediate to our throne; - - And with no less nobility of love - - Than that which dearest father bears his son - - Do I impart toward you. - - How is it that the clouds still hang on you? - - Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl. - - Hamlet. - - -|WHEN the head of a community has, after due deliberation, resolved upon -the carrying out of any bold social step, he may expect to meet with the -opposition that invariably obstructs the reformer's advance; so that -one is tempted--nay, modern statesmanship compels one--to believe that -secrecy until a projected design is fully matured is a wise, or at least -an effective, policy. The military stratagem of a surprise is frequently -attended with good results in dealing with an enemy, and as a friendly -policy why should it not succeed? - -This was, beyond a question, the course of thought pursued by The -Macnamara before he uttered those words to Eugene. He had not given -the order without careful deliberation, but when he had come to the -conclusion that circumstances demanded the taking of so bold a step, he -had not hesitated in his utterance. - -Eugene was indeed surprised, and so also was Standish. The driver took -off his hat and passed his fingers through his hair, looking down to -his bare feet, for he was in the habit of getting a few weeks of warning -before a similar order to that just uttered by his master was given to -him. - -“Do you hear, or are you going to wait till the horse has frozen to the -sod?” inquired The Macnamara; and this brought the mind of the boy out -of the labyrinth of wonder into which it had strayed. He threw down the -whip and the reins, and, tucking up the voluminous skirts of his -coat, ran round the house, commenting briefly as he went along on the -remarkable aspect things were assuming. - -Entering the kitchen from the rear, where an old man and two old women -were sitting with short pipes alight, he cried, “What's the world comin' -to at all? I've got to put on me boots.” - -“Holy Saint Bridget,” cried a pious old woman, “he's to put on his -brogues! An' is it The Mac has bid ye, Eugene?” - -“Sorra a sowl ilse. So just shake a coal in iviry fut to thaw thim a -bit, alana.” - -While the old woman was performing this operation over the turf fire, -there was some discussion as to what was the nature of the circumstances -that demanded such an unusual proceeding on the part of The Macnamara. - -“It's only The Mac himsilf that sames to know--. knock the ashes well -about the hale, ma'am--for Masther Standish was as much put out as -mesilf whin The Mac says--nivir moind the toes, ma'am, me fut'll nivir -go more nor halfways up the sowl--says he, 'Git on yer boots;' as if it -was the ordinarist thing in the world;--now I'll thry an' squaze me fut -in.” And he took the immense boot so soon as the fiery ashes had been -emptied from its cavity. - -“The Mac's pride'll have a fall,” remarked the old man in the corner -sagaciously. - -“I shouldn't wondher,” said Eugene, pulling on one of the boots. -“The spring is patched with hemp, but it's as loikely to give way as -not--holy Biddy, ye've left a hot coal just at the instep that's made -its way to me bone!” But in spite of this catastrophe, the boy trudged -off to the car, his coat's tails flapping like the foresail of a yacht -brought up to the wind. Then he cautiously mounted his seat in front of -the car, letting a boot protrude effectively on each side of the narrow -board. The Macnamara and his son, who had exchanged no word during the -short absence of Eugene in the kitchen, then took their places, the -horse was aroused from its slumber, and they all passed down the long -dilapidated avenue and through the broad entrance between the great -mouldering pillars overclung with ivy and strange tangled weeds, where a -gate had once been, but where now only a rough pole was drawn across to -prevent the trespass of strange animals. - -Truly pitiful it was to see such signs of dilapidation everywhere -around this demesne of Innishdermot. The house itself was an immense, -irregularly built, rambling castle. Three-quarters of it was in utter -ruin, but it had needed the combined efforts of eight hundred years of -time and a thousand of Cromwell's soldiers to reduce the walls to the -condition in which they were at present. The five rooms of the building -that were habitable belonged to a comparatively new wing, which was -supported on the eastern side by the gable of a small chapel, and on the -western by the wall of a great round tower which stood like a demolished -sugar-loaf high above all the ruins, and lodged a select number of -immense owls whose eyesight was so extremely sensitive, it required an -unusual amount of darkness for its preservation. - -This was the habitation of The Macnamaras, hereditary kings of Munster, -and here it was that the existing representative of the royal family -lived with his only son, Standish O'Dermot Macnamara. In front of the -pile stretched a park, or rather what had once been a park, but which -was now wild and tangled as any wood. It straggled down to the coastway -of the lough, which, with as many windings as a Norwegian fjord, brought -the green waves of the Atlantic for twenty miles between coasts a -thousand feet in height--coasts which were black and precipitous and -pierced with a hundred mighty caves about the headlands of the entrance, -but which became wooded and more gentle of slope towards the narrow -termination of the basin. The entire of one coastway, from the cliffs -that broke the wild buffet of the ocean rollers, to the little island -that lay at the narrowing of the waters, was the property of The -Macnamara. This was all that had been left to the house which had once -held sway over two hundred miles of coastway, from the kingdom of -Kerry to Achill Island, and a hundred miles of riverway. Pasturages -the richest of the world, lake-lands the most beautiful, mountains the -grandest, woods and moors--all had been ruled over by The Macnamaras, -and of all, only a strip of coastway and a ruined castle remained to -the representative of the ancient house, who was now passing on a -jaunting-car between the dilapidated pillars at the entrance to his -desolate demesne. - -On a small hill that came in sight so soon as the car had passed from -under the gaunt fantastic branches that threw themselves over the -wall at the roadside, as if making a scrambling clutch at something -indefinite in the air, a ruined tower stood out in relief against the -blue sky of this August day. Seeing the ruin in this land of ruins The -Macnamara sighed heavily--too heavily to allow of any one fancying that -his emotion was natural. - -“Ah, my son, the times have changed,” he said. “Only a few years have -passed--six hundred or so--since young Brian Macnamara left that very -castle to ask the daughter of the great Desmond of the Lake in marriage. -How did he go out, my boy?” - -“You don't mean that we are now----” - -“How did he go out?” again asked The Macnamara, interrupting his son's -words of astonishment. “He went out of that castle with three hundred -and sixty-five knights--for he had as many knights as there are days -in the year.”--Here Eugene, who only caught the phonetic sense of this -remarkable fact regarding young Brian Macnamara, gave a grin, which his -master detected and chastised by a blow from his stick upon the mighty -livery coat. - -“But, father,” said Standish, after the trifling excitement occasioned -by this episode had died away--“but, father, we are surely not -going----” - -“Hush, my son. The young Brian and his retinue went out one August day -like this; and with him was the hundred harpers, the fifty pipers, and -the thirteen noble chiefs of the Lakes, all mounted on the finest of -steeds, and the morning sun glittering on their gems and jewels as if -they had been drops of dew. And so they rode to the castle of Desmond, -and when he shut the gates in the face of the noble retinue and sent -out a haughty message that, because the young Prince Brian had slain The -Desmond's two sons, he would not admit him as a suitor to his daughter, -the noble young prince burnt The Desmond's tower to the ground and -carried off the daughter, who, as the bards all agree, was the loveliest -of her sex. Ah, that was a wooing worthy of The Mac-namaras. These -are the degenerate days when a prince of The Macnamaras goes on a -broken-down car to ask the hand of a daughter of the Geralds.” Here a -low whistle escaped from Eugene, and he looked down at his boots just as -The Macnamara delivered another rebuke to him of the same nature as the -former. - -“But we're not going to--to--Suanmara!” cried Standish in dismay. - -“Then where are we going, maybe you'll tell me?” said his father. - -“Not there--not there; you never said you were going there. Why should -we go there?” - -“Just for the same reason that your noble forefather Brian Macnamara -went to the tower of The Desmond,” said the father, leaving it to -Standish to determine which of the noble acts of the somewhat impetuous -young prince their present excursion was designed to emulate. - -“Do you mean to say, father, that--that--oh, no one could think of such -a thing as----” - -“My son,” said the hereditary monarch coolly, “you made a confession -to me this morning that only leaves me one course. The honour of The -Macnamaras is at stake, and as the representative of the family it's -my duty to preserve it untarnished. When a son of mine confesses his -affection for a lady, the only course he can pursue towards her is to -marry her, let her even be a Gerald.” - -“I won't go on such a fool's errand,” cried the young man. “She--her -grandfather--they would laugh at such a proposal.” - -“The Desmond laughed, and what came of it, my boy?” said the Macnamara -sternly. - -“I will not go on any farther,” cried Standish, unawed by the reference -to the consequences of the inopportune hilarity of The Desmond. “How -could you think that I would have the presumption to fancy for the least -moment that--that--she--that is--that they would listen to--to anything -I might say? Oh, the idea is absurd!” - -“My boy, I am the head of the line of The Munster Macnamaras, and the -head always decides in delicate matters like this. I'll not have the -feeling's of the lady trifled with even by a son of my own. Didn't you -confess all to me?” - -“I will not go on,” the young man cried again. “She--that is--they -will think that we mean an affront--and it is a gross insult to her--to -them--to even fancy that--oh, if we were anything but what we are there -would be some hope--some chance; if I had only been allowed my own way I -might have won her in time--long years perhaps, but still some time. But -now----” - -“Recreant son of a noble house, have you no more spirit than a Saxon?” - said the father, trying to assume a dignified position, an attempt that -the jerking of the imperfect spring of the vehicle frustrated. “Mightn't -the noblest family in Europe think it an honour to be allied with The -Munster Macnamaras, penniless though we are?” - -“Don't go to-day, father,” said Standish, almost piteously; “no, not -to-day. It is too sudden--my mind is not made up.” - -“But mine is, my boy. Haven't I prepared everything so that there can -be no mistake?”--here he pressed his tall hat more firmly upon -his forehead, and glanced towards Eugene's boots that projected a -considerable way beyond the line of the car. “My boy,” he continued, -“The Macnamaras descend to ally themselves with any other family only -for the sake of keeping up the race. It's their solemn duty.' - -“I'll not go on any farther on such an errand--I will not be such a -fool,” said Standish, making a movement on his side of the car. - -“My boy,” said The Macnamara unconcernedly, “my boy, you can get off -at any moment; your presence will make no difference in the matter. -The matrimonial alliances of The Macnamaras are family matters, not -individual. The head of the race only is accountable to posterity for -the consequences of the acts of them under him. I'm the head of the -race.” He removed his hat and looked upward, somewhat jerkily, but still -impressively. - -Standish Macnamara's eyes flashed and his hands clenched themselves over -the rail of the car, but he did not make any attempt to carry out his -threat of getting off. He did not utter another word. How could he? It -was torture to him to hear his father discuss beneath the ear of the boy -Eugene such a question as his confession of love for a certain lady. -It was terrible for him to observe the expression of interest which -was apparent upon the ingenuous face of Eugene, and to see his nods -of approval at the words of The Macnamara. What could poor Standish do -beyond closing his teeth very tightly and clenching his hands madly as -the car jerked its way along the coast of Lough Suangorm, in view of a -portion of the loveliest scenery in the world? - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - - How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable - - Seem to me all the uses of this world. - - Gather by him, as he is behaved, - - If't be the affliction of his love or no - - That thus he suffers for. - - Break my heart, for I must hold my tongue. - - Hamlet. - - -|THE road upon which the car was driving was made round an elevated part -of the coast of the lough. It curved away from where the castle of The -Macnamaras was situated on one side of the water, to the termination -of the lough. It did not slope downwards in the least at any part, but -swept on to the opposite lofty shore, five hundred feet above the great -rollers from the Atlantic that spent themselves amongst the half-hidden -rocks. - -The car jerked on in silence after The Macnamara had spoken his -impressive sentence. Standish's hands soon relaxed their passionate hold -upon the rail of the car, and, in spite of his consciousness of being -twenty-three years of age, he found it almost impossible to restrain his -tears of mortification from bursting their bonds. He knew how pure--how -fervent--how exhaustless was the love that filled all his heart. He had -been loving, not without hope, but without utterance, for years, and now -all the fruit of his patience--of his years of speechlessness--would be -blighted by the ridiculous action of his father. What would now be left -for him in the world? he asked himself, and the despairing tears of his -heart gave him his only answer. - -He was on the seaward side of the car, which was now passing out of the -green shade of the boughs that for three miles overhung the road. Then -as the curve of the termination of the lough was approached, the full -panorama of sea and coast leapt into view, with all the magical glamour -those wizards Motion and Height can enweave round a scene. Far beneath, -the narrow band of blue water lost itself amongst the steep cliffs. -The double coasts of the lough that were joined at the point of vision, -broadened out in undulating heights towards the mighty headlands of -the entrance, that lifted up their hoary brows as the lion-waves of -the Atlantic leapt between them and crouched in unwieldy bulk at their -bases. Far away stretched that ocean, its horizon lost in mist; and -above the line of rugged coast-cliff arose mountains--mighty masses -tumbled together in black confusion, like Titanic gladiators locked in -the close throes of the wrestle. - -Never before had the familiar scene so taken Standish in its arms, so to -speak, as it did now. He felt it. He looked down at the screen islands -of the lough encircled with the floss of the moving waters; he looked -along the slopes of the coasts with the ruins of ancient days on their -summits, then his eyes went out to where the sun dipped towards the -Atlantic, and he felt no more that passion of mortification which his -reflections had aroused. Quickly as it had sprung into view the scene -dissolved, as the car entered a glen, dim in the shadow of a great -hill whose slope, swathed in purple heather to its highest peak, made a -twilight at noon-day to all beneath. In the distance of the winding -road beyond the dark edge of the mountain were seen the gray ridges of -another range running far inland. With the twilight shadow of the glen, -the shadow seemed to come again over the mind of Standish. He gave -himself up to his own sad thoughts, and when, from a black tarn amongst -the low pine-trees beneath the road, a tall heron rose and fled -silently through the silent air to the foot of the slope, he regarded it -ominously, as he would have done a raven. - -There they sat speechless upon the car. The Macnamara, who was a short, -middle-aged man with a rather highly-coloured face, and features that -not even the most malignant could pronounce of a Roman or even of a -Saxon type, was sitting in silent dignity of which he seemed by no -means unconscious Standish, who was tall, slender almost to a point -of lankness, and gray-eyed, was morosely speechless, his father felt. -Nature had not given The Macnamara a son after his own heart. The young -man's features, that had at one time showed great promise of developing -into the pure Milesian, had not fulfilled the early hope they had raised -in his father's bosom; they had within the past twelve years exhibited -a downward tendency that was not in keeping with the traditions of The -Macnamaras. If the direction of the caressing hand of Nature over -the features of the family should be reversed, what would remain -to distinguish The Macnamaras from their Saxon invaders? This was a -question whose weight had for some time oppressed the representative -of the race; and he could only quiet his apprehension by the assurance -which forced itself upon his mind, that Nature would never persist in -any course prejudicial to her own interests in the maintenance of an -irreproachable type of manhood. - -Then it was a great grief to the father to become aware of the fact that -the speech of Standish was all unlike his own in accent; it was, indeed, -terribly like the ordinary Saxon speech--at least it sounded so to The -Macnamara, whose vowels were diphthongic to a marked degree. But of -course the most distressing reflection of the head of the race had -reference to the mental disqualifications of his son to sustain the -position which he would some day have to occupy as The Macnamara; for -Standish had of late shown a tendency to accept the position accorded -to him by the enemies of his race, and to allow that there existed -a certain unwritten statute of limitations in the maintenance of the -divine right of monarchs. He actually seemed to be under the impression -that because nine hundred years had elapsed since a Macnamara had been -the acknowledged king of Munster, the claim to be regarded as a royal -family should not be strongly urged. This was very terrible to The -Macnamara. And now he reflected upon all these matters as he held in -a fixed and fervent grasp the somewhat untrustworthy rail of the -undoubtedly shaky vehicle. - -Thus in silence the car was driven through the dim glen, until the slope -on the seaward-side of the road dwindled away and once more the sea came -in sight; and, with the first glimpse of the sea, the square tower of -an old, though not an ancient, castle that stood half hidden by trees at -the base of the purple mountain. In a few minutes the car pulled up at -the entrance gate to a walled demesne. - -“Will yer honours git off here?” asked Eugene, preparing to throw the -reins down. - -“Never!” cried The Macnamara emphatically. “Never will the head of the -race descend to walk up to the door of a foreigner. Drive up to the very -hall, Eugene, as the great Brian Macnamara would have done.” - -“An' it's hopin' I am that his car-sphrings wouldn't be mindid with -hemp,” remarked the boy, as he pulled the horse round and urged his mild -career through the great pillars at the entrance. - -Everything about this place gave signs of having been cared for. The -avenue was long, but it could be traversed without any risk of the -vehicle being lost in the landslip of a rut. The grass around the trees, -though by no means trimmed at the edges, was still not dank with weeds, -and the trees themselves, if old, had none of the gauntness apparent in -all the timber about the castle of The Macnamara. As the car went along -there was visible every now and again the flash of branching antlers -among the green foliage, and more than once the stately head of a red -deer appeared gazing at the visitors, motionless, as if the animal had -been a painted statue. - -The castle, opposite whose black oak door Eugene at last dropped his -reins, was by no means an imposing building. It was large and square, -and at one wing stood the square ivy-covered tower that was seen from -the road. Above it rose the great dark mountain ridge, and in front -rolled the Atlantic, for the trees prevented the shoreway from being -seen. - -“Eugene, knock at the door of the Geralds,” said The Macnamara from his -seat on the car, with a dignity the emphasis of which would have been -diminished had he dismounted. - -Eugene--looked upward at this order, shook his head in wonderment, and -then got down, but not with quite the same expedition as his boot, which -could not sustain the severe test of being suspended for any time in the -air. He had not fully secured it again on his bare foot before a laugh -sounded from the balcony over the porch--a laugh that made Standish's -face redder than any rose--that made Eugene glance up with a grin and -touch his hat, even before a girl's voice was heard saying: - -“Oh, Eugene, Eugene! What a clumsy fellow you are, to be sure.” - -“Ah, don't be a sayin' of that, Miss Daireen, ma'am,” the boy replied, -as he gave a final stamp to secure possession of the boot. - -The Macnamara looked up and gravely removed his hat; but Standish having -got down from the car turned his gaze seawards. Had he followed his -father's example, he would have seen the laughing face and the graceful -figure of a girl leaning over the balustrade of the porch surveying the -group beneath her. - -“And how do you do, Macnamara?” she said. “No, no, don't let Eugene -knock; all the dogs are asleep except King Cormac, and I am too grateful -to allow their rest to be broken. I'll go down and give you entrance.” - -She disappeared from the balcony, and in a few moments the hall door -was softly sundered and the western sunlight fell about the form of the -portress. The girl was tall and exquisitely moulded, from her little -blue shoe to her rich brown hair, over which the sun made light and -shade; her face was slightly flushed with her rapid descent and the -quick kiss of the sunlight, and her eyes were of the most gracious gray -that ever shone or laughed or wept. But her mouth--it was a visible -song. It expressed all that song is capable of suggesting--passion of -love or of anger, comfort of hope or of charity. - -“Enter, O my king-,” she said, giving The Macnamara her hand; then -turning to Standish, “How do you do, Standish? Why do you not come in?” - -But Standish uttered no word. He took her hand for a second and followed -his father into the big square oaken hall. All were black oak, floor and -wall and ceiling, only while the sunlight leapt through the open door -was the sombre hue relieved by the flashing of the arms that lined the -walls, and the glittering of the enormous elk-antlers that spread their -branches over the lintels. - -“And you drove all round the coast to see me, I hope,” said the girl, as -they stood together under the battle-axes of the brave days of old, when -the qualifications for becoming a successful knight and a successful -blacksmith were identical. - -“We drove round to admire the beauty of the lovely Daireen,” said The -Macnamara, with a flourish of the hand that did him infinite credit. - -“If that is all,” laughed the girl, “your visit will not be a long one.” - She was standing listlessly caressing with her hand the coarse hide of -King Corrnac, a gigantic Wolf-dog, and in that posture looked like a -statue of the Genius of her country. The dog had been welcoming Standish -a moment before, and the young man's hand still resting upon its head, -felt the casual touch of the girl's fingers as she played with the -animal's ears. Every touch sent a thrill of passionate delight through -him. - -“The beauty of the daughter of the Geralds is worth coming so far to -see; and now that I look at her before me----” - -“Now you know that it is impossible to make out a single feature in this -darkness,” said Daireen. “So come along into the drawing-room.” - -“Go with the lovely Daireen, my boy,” said The Macnamara, as the girl -led the way across the hall. “For myself, I think I'll just turn in -here.” He opened a door at one side of the hall and exposed to view, -within the room beyond, a piece of ancient furniture which was not yet -too decrepit to sustain the burden of a row of square glass bottles -and tumblers. But before he entered he whispered to Standish with an -appropriate action, “Make it all right with her by the time come I -back.” And so he vanished. - -“The Macnamara is right,” said Daireen. “You must join him in taking a -glass of wine after your long drive, Standish.” - -For the first time since he had spoken on the car Standish found his -voice. - -“I do not want to drink anything, Daireen,” he said. - -“Then we shall go round to the garden and try to find grandpapa, if you -don't want to rest.” - -With her brown unbonneted hair tossing in its irregular strands about -her neck, she went out by a door at the farther end of the square hall, -and Standish followed her by a high-arched passage that seemed to lead -right through the building. At the extremity was an iron gate which the -girl unlocked, and they passed into a large garden somewhat wild in its -growth, but with its few brilliant spots of colour well brought out -by the general _feeling_ of purple that forced itself upon every one -beneath the shadow of the great mountain-peak. Very lovely did that -world of heather seem now as the sun burned over against the slope, -stirring up the wonderful secret hues of dark blue and crimson. The peak -stood out in bold relief against the pale sky, and above its highest -point an eagle sailed. - -“I have such good news for you, Standish,” said Miss Gerald. “You cannot -guess what it is.” - -“I cannot guess what good news there could possibly be in store for -me,” he replied, with so much sadness in his voice that the girl gave a -little start, and then the least possible smile, for she was well aware -that the luxury of sadness was frequently indulged in by her companion. - -“It is good news for you, for me, for all of us, for all the world, -for--well, for everybody that I have not included. Don't laugh at me, -please, for my news is that papa is coming home at last. Now, isn't that -good news?” - -“I am very glad to hear it,” said Standish. “I am very glad because I -know it will make you happy.” - -“How nicely said; and I know you feel it, my dear Standish. Ah, poor -papa! he has had a hard time of it, battling with the terrible Indian -climate and with those annoying people.” - -“It is a life worth living,” cried Standish. “After you are dead the -world feels that you have lived in it. The world is the better for your -life.” - -“You are right,” said Daireen. “Papa leaves India crowned with honours, -as the newspapers say. The Queen has made him a C.B., you know. -But--only think how provoking it is--he has been ordered by the surgeon -of his regiment to return by long-sea, instead of overland, for the sake -of his health; so that though I got his letter from Madras yesterday to -tell me that he was at the point of starting, it will be another month -before I can see him.” - -“But then he will no doubt have completely recovered,” said Standish. - -“That is my only consolation. Yes; he will be himself again--himself as -I saw him five years ago in our bungalow--how well I remember it and its -single plantain-tree in the garden where the officers used to hunt me -for kisses.” - -Standish frowned. It was, to him, a hideous recollection for the girl to -have. He would cheerfully have undertaken the strangulation of each -of those sportive officers. “I should have learned a great deal during -these five years that have passed since I was sent to England to school, -but I'm afraid I didn't. Never mind, papa won't cross-examine me to see -if his money has been wasted. But why do you look so sad, Standish? You -do look sad, you know.” - -“I feel it too,” he cried. “I feel more wretched than I can tell you. -I'm sick of everything here--no, not here, you know, but at home. There -I am in that cursed jail, shut out from the world, a beggar without the -liberty to beg.” - -“Oh, Standish!” - -“But it is the truth, Daireen. I might as well be dead as living as I -am. Yes, better--I wish to God I was dead, for then there might be at -least some chance of making a beginning in a new sort of life under -different conditions.” - -“Isn't it wicked to talk that way, Standish?” - -“I don't know,” he replied doggedly. “Wickedness and goodness have -ceased to be anything more to me than vague conditions of life in a -world I have nothing to say to. I cannot be either good or bad here.” - -Daireen looked very solemn at this confession of impotence. - -“You told me you meant to speak to The Mac-namara about going away or -doing something,” she said. - -“And I did speak to him, but it came to the one end: it was a disgrace -for the son of the------ bah, you know how he talks. Every person of any -position laughs at him; only those worse than himself think that he -is wronged. But I'll do something, if it should only be to enlist as a -common soldier.” - -“Standish, do not talk that way, like a good boy,” she said, laying her -hand upon his arm. “I have a bright thought for the first time: wait -just for another month until papa is here, and he will, you may be sure, -tell you what is exactly right to do. Oh, there is grandpapa, with his -gun as usual, coming from the hill.” - -They saw at a little distance the figure of a tall old man carrying a -gun, and followed by a couple of sporting dogs. - -“Daireen,” said Standish, stopping suddenly as if a thought had just -struck him. “Daireen, promise me that you will not let anything my -father may say here to-day make you think badly of me.” - -“Good gracious! why should I ever do that? What is he going to say that -is so dreadful?” - -“I cannot tell you, Daireen; but you will promise me;” he had seized -her by the hand and was looking with earnest entreaty into her eyes. -“Daireen,” he continued, “you will give me your word. You have been such -a friend to me always--such a good angel to me.” - -“And we shall always be friends, Standish. I promise you this. Now let -go my hand, like a good boy.” - -He obeyed her, and in a few minutes they had met Daireen's grandfather, -Mr. Gerald, who had been coming towards them. - -“What, The Macnamara here? then I must hasten to him,” said the old -gentleman, handing his gun to Standish. - -No one knew better than Mr. Gerald the necessity that existed for -hastening to The Macnamara, in case of his waiting for a length of time -in that room the sideboard of which was laden with bottles. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - - And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? - - You told us of some suit: what is't, Laertes? - - He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow' leave - - By laboursome petition; and at last, - - Upon his will I sealed my hard consent. - - Horatio. There's no offence, my lord. - - Hamlet. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio, - - And much offence too. - - --Hamlet. - - -|THE Macnamara had been led away from his companionship in that old oak -room by the time his son and Miss Gerald returned from the garden, -and the consciousness of his own dignity seemed to have increased -considerably since they had left him. This emotion was a variable -possession with him: any one acquainted with his habits could without -difficulty, from knowing the degree of dignity he manifested at any -moment, calculate minutely the space of time, he must of necessity have -spent in a room furnished similarly to that he had just now left. - -He was talking pretty loudly in the room to which he had been led by -Mr. Gerald when Daireen and Standish entered; and beside him was a -whitehaired old lady whom Standish greeted as Mrs. Gerald and the girl -called grandmamma--an old lady with very white hair but with large dark -eyes whose lustre remained yet undimmed. - -“Standish will reveal the mystery,” said this old lady, as the young -man shook hands with her. “Your father has been speaking in proverbs, -Standish, and we want your assistance to read them.” - -“He is my son,” said The Macnamara, waving his hand proudly and lifting -up his head. “He will hear his father speak on his behalf. Head of the -Geralds, Gerald-na-Tor, chief of the hills, the last of The Macnamaras, -king's of Munster, Innishdermot, and all islands, comes to you.” - -“And I am honoured by his visit, and glad to find him looking so well.” - said Mr. Gerald. “I am only sorry you can't make it suit you to come -oftener, Macnamara.” - -“It's that boy Eugene that's at fault,” said The Macnamara, dropping so -suddenly into a colloquial speech from his eloquent Ossianic strain -that one might have been led to believe his opening words were somewhat -forced. “Yes, my lad,” he continued, addressing Mr. Gerald; “that Eugene -is either breaking the springs or the straps or his own bones.” Here -he recollected that his mission was not one to be expressed in this -ordinary vein. He straightened himself in an instant, and as he went on -asserted even more dignity than before. “Gerald, you know my position, -don't you? and you know your 'own; but you can't say, can you, that The -Macnamara ever held himself aloof from your table by any show of pride? -I mixed with you as if we were equals.” - -Again he waved his hand patronisingly, but no one showed the least sign -of laughter. Standish was in front of one of the windows leaning his -head upon his hand as he looked out to the misty ocean. “Yes, I've -treated you at all times as if you had been born of the land, though -this ground we tread on this moment was torn from the grasp of The -Macnamaras by fraud.” - -“True, true--six hundred years ago,” remarked Mr. Gerald. He had been -so frequently reminded of this fact during his acquaintance with The -Macnamara, he could afford to make the concession he now did. - -“But I've not let that rankle in my heart,” continued The Macnamara; -“I've descended to break bread with you and to drink--drink water with -you--ay, at times. You know my son too, and you know that if he's not -the same as his father to the backbone, it's not his father that's -to blame for it. It was the last wish of his poor mother--rest her -soul!--that he should be schooled outside our country, and you know that -I carried out her will, though it cost me dear. He's been back these -four years, as you know--what's he looking out at at the window?--but -it's only three since he found out the pearl of the Lough Suangorm--the -diamond of Slieve Docas--the beautiful daughter of the Geralds. Ay, he -confessed to me this morning where his soft heart had turned, poor -boy. Don't be blushing, Standish; the blood of the Macnamaras shouldn't -betray itself in their cheeks.” - -Standish had started away from the window before his father had ended; -his hands were clenched, and his cheeks were burning with shame. He -could not fail to see the frown that was settling down upon the face of -Mr. Gerald. But he dared not even glance towards Daireen. - -“My dear Macnamara, we needn't talk on this subject any farther just -now,” said the girl's grandfather, as the orator paused for an instant. - -But The Macnamara only gave his hand another wave before he proceeded. -“I have promised my boy to make him happy,” he said, “and you know what -the word of a Macnamara is worth even to his son; so, though I confess -I was taken aback at first, yet I at last consented to throw over my -natural family pride and to let my boy have his way. An alliance between -the Macnamaras and the Geralds is not what would have been thought about -a few years ago, but The Macnamaras have always been condescending.” - -“Yes, yes, you condescend to a jest now and again with us, but really -this is a sort of mystery I have no clue to,” said Mr. Gerald. - -“Mystery? Ay, it will astonish the world to know that The Macnamara -has given his consent to such an alliance; it must be kept secret for -a while for fear of its effects upon the foreign States that have their -eyes upon all our steps. I wouldn't like this made a State affair at -all.” - -“My dear Macnamara, you are usually very lucid,” said Mr. Gerald, “but -to-day I somehow cannot arrive at your meaning.” - -“What, sir?” cried The Macnamara, giving his head an angry twitch. -“What, sir, do you mean to tell me that you don't understand that I -have given my consent to my son taking as his wife the daughter of the -Geralds?--see how the lovely Daireen blushes like a rose.” - -Daireen was certainly blushing, as she left her seat and went over to -the farthest end of the room. But Standish was deadly pale, his lips -tightly closed. - -“Macnamara, this is absurd--quite absurd!” said Mr. Gerald, hastily -rising. “Pray let us talk no more in such a strain.” - -Then The Macnamara's consciousness of his own dignity asserted itself. -He drew himself up and threw back his head. “Sir, do you mean to put -an affront upon the one who has left his proper station to raise your -family to his own level?” - -“Don't let us quarrel, Macnamara; you know how highly I esteem you -personally, and you know that I have ever looked upon the family of the -Macnamaras as the noblest in the land.” - -“And it is the noblest in the land. There's not a drop of blood in our -veins that hasn't sprung from the heart of a king,” cried The Macnamara. - -“Yes, yes, I know it; but--well, we will not talk any further to-day. -Daireen, you needn't go away.” - -“Heavens! do you mean to say that I haven't spoken plainly enough, -that----” - -“Now, Macnamara, I must really interrupt you----” - -“Must you?” cried the representative of the ancient line, his face -developing all the secret resources of redness it possessed. “Must you -interrupt the hereditary monarch of the country where you're but an -immigrant when he descends to equalise himself with you? This is the -reward of condescension! Enough, sir, you have affronted the family that -were living in castles when your forefathers were like beasts in caves. -The offer of an alliance ought to have come from you, not from me; but -never again will it be said that The Macnamara forgot what was due to -him and his family. No, by the powers, Gerald, you'll never have the -chance again. I scorn you; I reject your alliance. The Macnamara seats -himself once more upon his ancient throne, and he tramples upon you all. -Come, my son, look at him that has insulted your family--look at him for -the last time and lift up your head.” - -The grandeur with which The Macnamara uttered this speech was -overpowering. He had at its conclusion turned towards poor Standish, and -waved his hand in the direction of Mr. Gerald. Then Standish seemed to -have recovered himself. - -“No, father, it is you who have insulted this family by talking as you -have done,” he cried passionately. - -“Boy!” shouted The Macnamara. “Recreant son of a noble race, don't -demean yourself with such language!” - -“It is you who have demeaned our family,” cried the son still more -energetically. “You have sunk us even lower than we were before.” Then -he turned imploringly towards Mr. Gerald. “You know--you know that I am -only to be pitied, not blamed, for my father's words,” he said quietly, -and then went to the door. - -“My dear boy,” said the old lady, hastening towards him. - -“Madam!” cried The Macnamara, raising his arm majestically to stay her. - -She stopped in the centre of the room. Daireen had also risen, her pure -eyes full of tears as she grasped her grandfather's hand while he laid -his other upon her head. - -From the door Standish looked with passionate gratitude back to the -girl, then rushed out. - -But The Macnamara stood for some moments with his head elevated, the -better to express the scorn that was in his heart. No one made a motion, -and then he stalked after his son. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - - What advancement may I hope from thee - - That no revenue hast... - - To feed and clothe thee? - - Guildenstern. The King, sir,-- - - Hamlet. Ay, sir, what of him? - - Guild. Is in his retirement marvellous distempered. - - Hamlet. With drink, sir? - - Guild. No, my lord, rather with choler. - - Hamlet. The King doth wake to-night and takes his - - rouse. - - Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels. - - Horatio. Is it a custom? - - Hamlet. Ay, marry is't: - - But to my mind, though I am native here, - - And to the manner born, it is a custom - - More honour'd in the breach than the observance. - - This heavy-headed revel... - - Makes us traduced and taxed.--Hamlet. - - -|TO do The Macnamara justice, while he was driving homeward upon that -very shaky car round the lovely coast, he was somewhat disturbed in mind -as he reflected upon the possible consequences of his quarrel with -old Mr. Gerald. He was dimly conscious of the truth of the worldly and -undeniably selfish maxim referring to the awkwardness of a quarrel with -a neighbour. And if there is any truth in it as a general maxim, its -value is certainly intensified when the neighbour in question has been -the lender of sundry sums of money. A neighbour under these conditions -should not be quarrelled with, he knew. - -The Macnamara had borrowed from Mr. Gerald, at various times, certain -moneys which had amounted in the aggregate to a considerable sum; for -though Daireen's grandfather was not possessed of a very large income -from the land that had been granted to his ancestors some few hundred -years before, he had still enough to enable him from time to time -to oblige The Macnamara with a loan. And this reflection caused The -Macnamara about as much mental uneasiness as the irregular motion of the -vehicle did physical discomfort. By the time, however, that the great -hill, whose heather slope was now wrapped in the purple shade of -twilight, its highest peak alone being bathed in the red glory of the -sunset, was passed, his mind was almost at ease; for he recalled the -fact that his misunderstandings with Mr. Gerald were exactly equal in -number to his visits; he never passed an hour at Suanmara without what -would at any rate have been a quarrel but for Mr. Gerald's good nature, -which refused to be ruffled. And as no reference had ever upon these -occasions been made to his borrowings, The Macnamara felt that he had -no reason to conclude that his present quarrel would become embarrassing -through any action of Mr. Gerald's. So he tried to feel the luxury of -the scorn that he had so powerfully expressed in the room at Suanmara. - -“Mushrooms of a night's growth!” he muttered. “I trampled them beneath -my feet. They may go down on their knees before me now, I'll have -nothing to say to them.” Then as the car passed out of the glen and he -saw before him the long shadows of the hills lying amongst the crimson -and yellow flames that swept from the sunset out on the Atlantic, and -streamed between the headlands at the entrance to the lough, he became -more fixed in his resolution. “The son of The Macnamara will never -wed with the daughter of a man that is paid by the oppressors of the -country, no, never!” - -This was an allusion to the fact of Daireen's father being a colonel -in the British army, on service in India. Then exactly between the -headlands the sun went down in a gorgeous mist that was permeated with -the glow of the orb it enveloped. The waters shook and trembled in the -light, but the many islands of the lough remained dark and silent in -the midst of the glow. The Macnamara became more resolute still. He had -almost forgotten that he had ever borrowed a penny from Mr. Gerald. He -turned to where Standish sat silent and almost grim. - -“And you, boy,” said the father--“you, that threw your insults in my -face--you, that's a disgrace to the family--I've made up my mind what -I'll do with you; I'll--yes, by the powers, I'll disinherit you.” - -But not a word did Standish utter in reply to this threat, the force of -which, coupled with an expressive motion of the speaker, jeopardised the -imperfect spring, and wrung from Eugene a sudden exclamation. - -“Holy mother o' Saint Malachi, kape the sthring from breakin' yit -awhile!” he cried devoutly. - -And it seemed that the driver's devotion was efficacious, for, without -any accident, the car reached the entrance to Innishdermot, as the -residence of the ancient monarchs had been called since the days when -the waters of Lough Suangorm had flowed all about the castle slope, for -even the lough had become reduced in strength. - -The twilight, rich and blue, was now swathing the mountains and -overshadowing the distant cliffs, though the waters at their base were -steel gray and full of light that seemed to shine upwards through their -depth. Desolate, truly, the ruins loomed through the dimness. Only -a single feeble light glimmered from one of the panes, and even this -seemed agonising to the owls, for they moaned wildly and continuously -from the round tower. There was, indeed, scarcely an aspect of welcome -in anything that surrounded this home which one family had occupied for -seven hundred years. - -As the car stopped at the door, however, there came a voice from -an unseen figure, saying, in even a more pronounced accent than The -Macnamara himself gloried in, “Wilcome, ye noble sonns of noble soyers! -Wilcome back to the anshent home of the gloryous race that'll stand -whoile there's a sod of the land to bear it.” - -“It's The Randal himself,” said The Macnamara, looking in the direction -from which the sound came. “And where is it that you are, Randal? Oh, I -see your pipe shining like a star out of the ivy.” - -From the forest of ivy that clung about the porch of the castle the -figure of a small man emerged. One of his hands was in his pocket, the -other removed a short black pipe, the length of whose stem in comparison -to the breadth of its bowl was as the proportion of Falstaff's bread to -his sack. - -“Wilcome back, Macnamara,” said this gentleman, who was indeed The -Randal, hereditary chief of Suangorm. “An' Standish too, how are ye, my -boy?” Standish shook hands with the speaker, but did not utter a word. -“An' where is it ye're afther dhrivin' from?” continued The Randal. - -“It's a long drive and a long story,” said The Macnamara. - -“Thin for hivin's sake don't begin it till we've put boy the dinner. I'm -goin' to take share with ye this day, and I'm afther waitin' an hour and -more.” - -“It's welcome The Randal is every day in the week,” said The Macnamara, -leading the way into the great dilapidated hall, where in the ancient -days fifty men-at-arms had been wont to feast royally. Now it was black -in night. - -In the room where the dinner was laid there were but two candles, and -their feeble glimmer availed no more than to make the blotches on the -cloth more apparent: the maps of the British Isles done in mustard and -gravy were numerous. At each end a huge black bottle stood like a sentry -at the border of a snowfield. - -By far the greater portion of the light was supplied by the blazing log -in the fireplace. It lay not in any grate but upon the bare hearth, and -crackled and roared up the chimney like a demon prostrate in torture. -The Randal and his host stood before the blaze, while Standish seated -himself in another part of the room. The ruddy flicker of the wood -fire shone upon the faces of the two men, and the yellow glimmer of -the candle upon the face of Standish. Here and there a polish upon the -surface of the black oak panelling gleamed, but all the rest of the high -room was dim. - -Salmon from the lough, venison from the forest, wild birds from the moor -made up the dinner. All were served on silver dishes strangely worked, -and plates of the same metal were laid before the diners, while horns -mounted on massive stands were the drinking vessels. From these dishes -The Macnamaras of the past had eaten, and from these horns they had -drunken, and though the present head of the family could have gained -many years' income had he given the metal to be melted, he had never -for an instant thought of taking such a step. He would have starved with -that plate empty in front of him sooner than have sold it to buy bread. - -Standish spoke no word during the entire meal, and the guest saw that -something had gone wrong; so with his native tact he chatted away, -asking questions, but waiting for no answer. - -When the table was cleared and the old serving-woman had brought in a -broken black kettle of boiling water, and had laid in the centre of the -table an immense silver bowl for the brewing of the punch, The Randal -drew up the remnant of his collar and said: “Now for the sthory of the -droive, Macnamara; I'm riddy whin ye fill the bowl.” - -Standish rose from the table and walked away to a seat at the furthest -end of the great room, where he sat hidden in the gloom of the corner. -The Randal did not think it inconsistent with his chieftainship to wink -at his host. - -“Randal,” said The Macnamara, “I've made up my mind. I'll disinherit -that boy, I will.” - -“No,” cried The Randal eagerly. “Don't spake so loud, man; if this -should git wind through the counthry who knows what might happen? -Disinhirit the boy; ye don't mane it, Macnamara,” he continued in an -excited but awe-stricken whisper. - -“But by the powers, I do mean it,” cried The Macnamara, who had been -testing the potent elements of the punch. - -“Disinherit me, will you, father?” came the sudden voice of Standish -echoing strangely down the dark room. Then he rose and stood facing -both men at the table, the red glare of the log mixing with the sickly -candlelight upon his face and quivering hands. “Disinherit me?” he said -again, bitterly. “You cannot do that. I wish you could. My inheritance, -what is it? Degradation of family, proud beggary, a life to be wasted -outside the world of life and work, and a death rejoiced over by those -wretches who have lent you money. Disinherit me from all this, if you -can.” - -“Holy Saint Malachi, hare the sonn of The Macnamaras talkin' loike a -choild!” cried The Randal. - -“I don't care who hears me,” said Standish. “I'm sick of hearing about -my forefathers; no one cares about them nowadays. I wanted years ago to -go out into the world and work.” - -“Work--a Macnamara work!” cried The Randal horror-stricken. - -“I told you so,” said The Macnamara, in the tone of one who finds sudden -confirmation to the improbable story of some enormity. - -“I wanted to work as a man should to redeem the shame which our life -as it is at present brings upon our family,” said the young man -earnestly--almost passionately; “but I was not allowed to do anything -that I wanted. I was kept here in this jail wasting my best years; but -to-day has brought everything to an end. You say you will disinherit me, -father, but I have from this day disinherited myself--I have cast off my -old existence. I begin life from to-day.” - -Then he turned away and went out of the room, leaving his father and his -guest in dumb amazement before their punch. It was some minutes before -either could speak. At last The Randal took adraught of the hot spirit, -and shook his head thoughtfully. - -“Poor boy! poor boy! he needs to be looked after till he gets over this -turn,” he said. - -“It's all that girl--that Daireen of the Geralds,” said The Macnamara. -“I found a paper with poetry on it for her this morning, and when I -forced him he confessed that he was in love with her.” - -“D'ye tell me that? And what more did ye do, Mac?” - -“I'll tell you,” said the hereditary prince, leaning over the table. - -And he gave his guest all the details of the visit to the Geralds at -length. - -But poor Standish had rushed up the crumbling staircase and was lying -on his bed with his face in his hands. It was only now he seemed to feel -all the shame that had caused his face to be red and pale by turns in -the drawing-room at Suanmara. He lay there in a passion of tears, while -the great owls kept moaning and hooting in the tower just outside his -window, making sympathetic melody to his ears. - -At last he arose and went over to the window and stood gazing out -through the break in the ivy armour of the wall. He gazed over the tops -of the trees growing in a straggling way down the slope to the water's -edge. He could see far away the ocean, whose voice he now and again -heard as the wind bore it around the tower. Thousands of stars glittered -above the water and trembled upon its moving surface. He felt strong -now. He felt that he might never weep again in the world as he had just -wept. Then he turned to another window and sent his eyes out to where -that great peak of Slieve Docas stood out dark and terrible among -the stars. He could not see the house at the base of the hill, but he -clenched his hands as he looked out, saying “Hope.” - -It was late before he got into his bed, and it was still later when he -awoke and heard, mingling with the cries of the night-birds, the sound -of hoarse singing that floated upward from the room where he had left -his father and The Randal. The prince and the chief were joining their -voices in a native melody, Standish knew; and he was well aware that -he would not be disturbed by the ascent of either during the night. The -dormitory arrangements of the prince and the chief when they had dined -in company were of the simplest nature. - -Standish went to sleep again, and the ancient rafters, that had heard -the tones of many generations of Macnamaras' voices, trembled for some -hours with the echoes from the room below, while outside the ancient -owls hooted and the ancient sea murmured in its sleep. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - - What imports this song? - - The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail - - And you are stay'd for. There; my blessing with thee. - - Hamlet. I do not set my life at a pin's fee... - - It waves me forth again: I'll follow it. - - Horatio. What if it tempt you toward the flood?... - - Look whether he has not changed his colour. - - --Hamlet. - - -|THE sounds of wild harp-music were ascending at even from the depths of -Glenmara. The sun had sunk, and the hues that had been woven round the -west were wasting themselves away on the horizon. The faint shell-pink -had drifted and dwindled far from the place of sunset. The woods of -the slopes looked very dark now that the red glances from the west were -withdrawn from their glossy foliage; but the heather-swathed mountains, -towering through the soft blue air to the dark blue sky, were richly -purple, as though the sunset hues had become entangled amongst the -heather, and had forgotten to fly back to the west that had cast them -forth. - -The little tarn at the foot of the lowest crags was black and still, -waiting for the first star-glimpse, and from its marge came the wild -notes of a harp fitfully swelling and waning; and then arose the still -wilder and more melancholy tones of a man's voice chanting what seemed -like a weird dirge to the fading twilight, and the language was the -Irish Celtic--that language every song of which sounds like a dirge sung -over its own death:-- - - Why art thou gone from us, White Dove of the Irish - - woods? - - Why art thou gone who made all the leaves tremulous with - - the low voice of love? - - Love that tarried yet afar, though the fleet swallow had - - come back to us-- - - Love that stayed in the far lands though the primrose had - - cast its gold by the streams-- - - Love that heard not the voice sent forth from every new- budded -briar-- - - This love came only when thou earnest, and rapture thrilled - - the heart of the green land. - - Why art thou gone from us, White Dove of the Irish - - woods? - -This is a translation of the wild lament that arose in the twilight air -and stirred up the echoes of the rocks. Then the fitful melody of the -harp made an interlude:-- - - Why art thou gone from us, sweet Linnet of the Irish - - woods? - - Why art thou gone from us whose song brought the Spring - - to our land? - - Yea, flowers to thy singing arose from the earth in bountiful - - bloom, - - And scents of the violet, scents of the hawthorn--all scents - - of the spring - - Were wafted about us when thy voice was heard albeit in - - autumn. - - All thoughts of the spring--all its hopes woke and breathed - - through our hearts, - - Till our souls thrilled with passionate song and the perfume - - of spring which is love. - - Why art thou gone from us, sweet Linnet of the Irish - - woods? - -Again the chaunter paused and again his harp prolonged the wailing -melody. Then passing into a more sadly soft strain, he continued his -song:-- - - Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy? - - Now thou art gone the berry drops from the arbutus, - - The wind comes in from the ocean with wail and the - - autumn is sad, - - The yellow leaves perish, whirled wild whither no one can - - know. - - As the crisp leaves are crushed in the woods, so our hearts - - are crushed at thy parting; - - As the woods moan for the summer departed, so we mourn - - that we see thee no more. - - Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy? - -Into the twilight the last notes died away, and a lonely heron standing -among the rushes at the edge of the tarn moved his head critically to -one side as if waiting for another song with which to sympathise. But -he was not the only listener. Far up among the purple crags Standish -Macnamara was lying looking out to the sunset when he heard the sound of -the chant in the glen beneath him. He lay silent while the dirge floated -up the mountain-side and died away among the heather of the peak. But -when the silence of the twilight came once more upon the glen, Standish -arose and made his way downwards to where an old man with one of the -small ancient Irish harps, was seated on a stone, his head bent across -the strings upon which his fingers still rested. Standish knew him to be -one Murrough O'Brian, a descendant of the bards of the country, and -an old retainer of the Gerald family. A man learned in Irish, but not -speaking an intelligible sentence in English. - -“Why do you sing the Dirge of Tuathal on this evening, Murrough?” he -asked in his native tongue, as he came beside the old man. - -“What else is there left for me to sing at this time, Standish O'Dermot -Macnamara, son of the Prince of Islands and all Munster?” said the bard. -“There is nothing of joy left us now. We cannot sing except in sorrow. -Does not the land seem to have sympathy with such songs, prolonging -their sound by its own voice from every glen and mountain-face?” - -“It is true,” said Standish. “As I sat up among the cliffs of heather -it seemed to me that the melody was made by the spirits of the glen -bewailing in the twilight the departure of the glory of our land.” - -“See how desolate is all around us here,” said the bard. “Glenmara is -lonely now, where it was wont to be gay with song and laughter; when the -nobles thronged the valley with hawk and hound, the voice of the bugle -and the melody of a hundred harps were heard stirring up the echoes in -delight.” - -“But now all are gone; they can only be recalled in vain dreams,” said -the second in this duet of Celtic mourners--the younger Marius among the -ruins. - -“The sons of Erin have left her in her loneliness while the world is -stirred with their brave actions,” continued the ancient bard. - -“True,” cried Standish; “outside is the world that needs Irish hands -and hearts to make it better worth living in.” The young man was so -enthusiastic in the utterance of his part in the dialogue as to cause -the bard to look suddenly up. - -“Yes, the hands and the hearts of the Irish have done much,” he said. -“Let the men go out into the world for a while, but let our daughters be -spared to us.” - -Standish gave a little start and looked inquiringly into the face of the -bard. - -“What do you mean, Murrough?” he asked slowly. - -The bard leant forward as if straining to catch some distant sound. - -“Listen to it, listen to it,” he said. There was a pause, and through -the silence the moan of the far-off ocean was borne along the dim glen. - -“It is the sound of the Atlantic,” said Standish. “The breeze from the -west carries it to us up from the lough.” - -“Listen to it and think that she is out on that far ocean,” said the old -man. “Listen to it, and think that Daireen, daughter of the Geralds, has -left her Irish home and is now tossing upon that ocean; gone is she, the -bright bird of the South--gone from those her smile lightened!” - -Standish neither started nor uttered a word when the old man had spoken; -but he felt his feet give way under him. He sat down upon a crag and -laid his head upon his hand staring into the black tarn. He could not -comprehend at first the force of the words “She is gone.” He had thought -of his own departure, but the possibility of Daireen's had not occurred -to him. The meaning of the bard's lament was now apparent to him, and -even now the melody seemed to be given back by the rocks that had heard -it: - -Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy? - -The words moaned through the dim air with the sound of the distant -waters for accompaniment. - -“Gone--gone--Daireen,” he whispered. “And you only tell me of it now,” - he added almost fiercely to the old man, for he reflected upon the time -he had wasted in that duet of lamentation over the ruins of his country. -What a wretchedly trivial thing he felt was the condition of the country -compared with such an event as the departure of Daireen Gerald. - -“It is only since morning that she is gone,” said the bard. “It was only -in the morning that the letter arrived to tell her that her father was -lying in a fever at some place where the vessel called on the way home. -And now she is gone from us, perhaps for ever.” - -“Murrough,” said the young man, laying his hand upon the other's arm, -and speaking in a hoarse whisper. “Tell me all about her. Why did they -allow her to go? Where is she gone? Not out to where her father was -landed?” - -“Why not there?” cried the old man, raising his head proudly. “Did a -Gerald ever shrink from duty when the hour came? Brave girl she is, -worthy to be a Gerald!” - -“Tell me all--all.” - -“What more is there to tell than what is bound up in those three words -'She is gone'?” said the man. “The letter came to her grandfather and -she saw him read it--I was in the hall--she saw his hand tremble. She -stood up there beside him and asked him what was in the letter; he -looked into her face and put the letter in her hand. I saw her face grow -pale as she read it. Then she sat down for a minute, but no word or -cry came from her until she looked up to the old man's face; then she -clasped her hands and said only, 'I will go to him.' The old people -talked to her of the distance, of the danger; they told her how she -would be alone for days and nights among strangers; but she only -repeated, 'I will go to him.' And now she is gone--gone alone over those -waters.” - -“Alone!” Standish repeated. “Gone away alone, no friend near her, none -to utter a word of comfort in her ears!” He buried his face in his hands -as he pictured the girl whom he had loved silently, but with all his -soul, since she had come to her home in Ireland from India where she -had lived with her father since the death of his wife ten years ago. He -pictured her sitting in her loneliness aboard the ship that was bearing -her away to, perhaps, the land of her father's grave, and he felt that -now at last all the bitterness that could be crowded upon his life had -fallen on him. He gazed into the black tarn, and saw within its depths a -star glittering as it glittered in the sky above, but it did not relieve -his thoughts with any touch of its gold. - -He rose after a while and gave his hand to Murrough. - -“Thank you,” he said. “You have told me all better than any one else -could have done. But did she not speak of me, Murrough--only once -perhaps? Did she not send me one little word of farewell?” - -“She gave me this for you,” said the old bard, producing a letter which -Standish clutched almost wildly. - -“Thank God, thank God!” he cried, hurrying away without another word. -But after him swept the sound of the bard's lament which he commenced -anew, with that query: - -Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy? - -It was not yet too dark outside the glen for Standish to read the letter -which he had just received; and so soon as he found himself in sight of -the sea he tore open the cover and read the few lines Daireen Gerald had -written, with a tremulous hand, to say farewell to him. - -“My father has been left ill with fever at the Cape, and I know that he -will recover only if I go to him. I am going away to-day, for the -steamer will leave Southampton in four days, and I cannot be there in -time unless I start at once. I thought you would not like me to go -without saying good-bye, and God bless you, dear Standish.” - -“You will say good-bye to The Macnamara for me. I thought poor papa -would be here to give you the advice you want. Pray to God that I may be -in time to see him.” - -He read the lines by the gray light reflected from the sea--he read them -until his eyes were dim. - -“Brave, glorious girl!” he cried. “But to think of her--alone--alone -out there, while I---- oh, what a poor weak fool I am! Here am I--here, -looking out to the sea she is gone to battle with! Oh, God! oh, God! I -must do something for her--I must--but what--what?” - -He cast himself down upon the heather that crawled from the slopes -even to the road, and there he lay with his head buried in agony at the -thought of his own impotence; while through the dark glen floated the -wild, weird strain of the lament: - -“Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy?” - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - - Hamlet. How chances it they travel? their residence, - - both in reputation and profit, was better both ways. - - Rosencrantz. I think their inhibition comes by the means - - of the late innovation. - - Many, wearing rapiers, are afraid of goose-quills. - - What imports the nomination of this gentleman? - - Hamlet. - - -|AWAY from the glens and the heather-clad mountains, from the blue -loughs and their islands of arbutus, from the harp-music, and from the -ocean-music which makes those who hear it ripe for revolt; away from the -land whose life is the memory of ancient deeds of nobleness; away from -the land that has given birth to more heroes than any nation in the -world, the land whose inhabitants live in thousands in squalor and look -out from mud windows upon the most glorious scenery in the world; away -from all these one must now be borne. - -Upon the evening of the fourth day after the chanting of that lament -by the bard O'Brian from the depths of Glenmara, the good steamship -_Cardwell Castle_ was making its way down Channel with a full cargo and -heavy mails for Madeira, St. Helena, and the Cape. It had left its port -but a few hours and already the coast had become dim with distance. The -red shoreway of the south-west was now so far away that the level rays -of sunlight which swept across the water were not seen to shine upon the -faces of the rocks, or to show where the green fields joined the brown -moorland; the windmills crowning every height were not seen to be in -motion. - -The passengers were for the most part very cheerful, as passengers -generally are during the first couple of hours of a voyage, when only -the gentle ripples of the Channel lap the sides of the vessel. The old -voyagers, who had thought it prudent to dine off a piece of sea-biscuit -and a glass of brandy and water, while they watched with grim smiles the -novices trifling with roast pork and apricot-dumplings, were now sitting -in seats they had arranged for themselves in such places as they knew -would be well to leeward for the greater part of the voyage, and here -they smoked their cigars and read their newspapers just as they would be -doing every day for three weeks. To them the phenomenon of the lessening -land was not particularly interesting. The novices were endeavouring to -look as if they had been used to knock about the sea all their lives; -they carried their telescopes under their arms quite jauntily, and gave -critical glances aloft every now and again, consulting their pocket -compasses gravely at regular intervals to convince themselves that they -were not being trifled with in the navigation of the vessel. - -Then there were, of course, those who had come aboard with the -determination of learning in three weeks as much seamanship as should -enable them to accept any post of marine responsibility that they might -be called upon to fill in after life. They handled the loose tackle with -a view of determining its exact utility, and endeavoured to trace stray -lines to their source. They placed the captain entirely at his ease -with them by asking him a number of questions regarding the dangers of -boiler-bursting, and the perils of storms; they begged that he would let -them know if there was any truth in the report which had reached them to -the effect that the Atlantic was a very stormy place; and they left him -with the entreaty that in case of any danger arising suddenly he would -at once communicate with them; they then went down to put a few casual -questions to the quartermaster who was at the wheel, and doubtless felt -that they were making most of the people about them cheerful with their -converse. - -Then there were the young ladies who had just completed their education -in England and were now on their way to join their relations abroad. -Having read in the course of their studies of English literature the -poems of the late Samuel Rogers, they were much amazed to find that the -mariners were not leaning over the ship's bulwarks sighing to behold the -sinking of their native land, and that not an individual had climbed the -mast to partake of the ocular banquet with indulging in which the poet -has accredited the sailor. Towards this section the glances of several -male eyes were turned, for most of the young men had roved sufficiently -far to become aware of the fact that the relief of the monotony of a -lengthened voyage is principally dependent on--well, on the relieving -capacities of the young ladies, lately sundered from school and just -commencing their education in the world. - -But far away from the groups that hung about the stern stood a girl -looking over the side of the ship towards the west--towards the sun that -was almost touching the horizon. She heard the laughter of the groups of -girls and the silly questions of the uninformed, but all sounded to her -like the strange voices of a dream; for as she gazed towards the west -she seemed to see a fair landscape of purple slopes and green woods; -the dash of the ripples against the ship's side came to her as the -rustle of the breaking ripples amongst the shells of a blue lough upon -whose surface a number of green islets raised their heads. She saw them -all--every islet, with its moveless I shadow beneath it, and the light -touching the edges of the leaves with red. Daireen Gerald it was who -stood there looking out to the sunset, but seeing in the golden lands of -the west the Irish land she knew so well. - -She remained motionless, with her eyes far away and her heart still -farther, until the red sun had disappeared, and the delicate twilight -change was slipping over the bright gray water. With every change she -seemed to see the shifting of the hues over the heather of Slieve Docas -and the pulsating of the tremulous red light through the foliage of the -deer ground. It was only now that the tears forced themselves into her -eyes, for she had not wept at parting from her grandfather, who had gone -with her from Ireland and had left her aboard the steamer a few hours -before; and while her tears made everything misty to her, the light -laughter of the groups scattered about the quarter-deck sounded in her -ears. It did not come harshly to her, for it seemed to come from a world -in which she had no part. The things about her were as the things of a -dream. The reality in which she was living was that which she saw out in -the west. - -“Come, my dear,” said a voice behind her--“Come and walk with me on the -deck. I fancied I had lost you, and you may guess what a state I was in, -after all the promises I made to Mr. Gerald.” - -“I was just looking out there, and wondering what they were all doing -at home--at the foot of the dear old mountain,” said Daireen, allowing -herself to be led away. - -“That is what most people would call moping, dear,” said the lady who -had come up. She was a middle-aged lady with a pleasant face, though her -figure was hardly what a scrupulous painter would choose as a model for -a Nausicaa. - -“Perhaps I was moping, Mrs. Crawford,” Daireen replied; “but I feel the -better for it now.” - -“My dear, I don't disapprove of moping now and again, though as a habit -it should not be encouraged. I was down in my cabin, and when I came on -deck I couldn't understand where you had disappeared to. I asked the -major, but of course, you know, he was quite oblivious to everything but -the mutiny at Cawnpore, through being beside Doctor Campion.” - -“But you have found me, you see, Mrs. Crawford.” - -“Yes, thanks to Mr. Glaston; he knew where you had gone; he had been -watching you.” Daireen felt her face turning red as she thought of this -Mr. Glaston, whoever he was, with his eyes fixed upon her movements. -“You don't know Mr. Glaston, Daireen?--I shall call you 'Daireen' -of course, though we have only known each other a couple of hours,” - continued the lady. “No, of course you don't. Never mind, I'll show -him to you.” For the promise of this treat Daireen did not express her -gratitude. She had come to think the most unfavourable things regarding -this Mr. Glaston. Mrs. Crawford, however, did not seem to expect an -acknowledgment. Her chat ran on as briskly as ever. “I shall point him -out to you, but on no account look near him for some time--young men are -so conceited, you know.” - -Daireen had heard this peculiarity ascribed to the race before, and -so when her guide, as they walked towards the stern of the vessel, -indicated to her that a young man sitting in a deck-chair smoking a -cigar was Mr. Glaston, she certainly did not do anything that might -possibly increase in Mr. Glaston this dangerous tendency which Mrs. -Crawford had assigned to young men generally. - -“What do you think of him, my dear?” asked Mrs. Crawford, when they had -strolled up the deck once more. - -“Of whom?” inquired Daireen. - -“Good gracious,” cried the lady, “are your thoughts still straying? Why, -I mean Mr. Glaston, to be sure. What do you think of him?” - -“I didn't look at him,” the girl answered. - -Mrs. Crawford searched the fair face beside her to find out if its -expression agreed with her words, and the scrutiny being satisfactory -she gave a little laugh. “How do you ever mean to know what he is like -if you don't look at him?” she asked. - -Daireen did not stop to explain how she thought it possible that -contentment might exist aboard the steamer even though she remained in -ignorance for ever of Mr. Glaston's qualities; but presently she glanced -along the deck, and saw sitting at graceful ease upon the chair Mrs. -Crawford had indicated, a tall man of apparently a year or two under -thirty. He had black hair which he had allowed to grow long behind, and -a black moustache which gave every indication of having been subjected -to the most careful youthful training. His face would not have been -thought expressive but for his eyes, and the expression that these -organs gave out could hardly be called anything except a neutral one: -they indicated nothing except that nothing was meant to be indicated -by them. No suggestion of passion, feeling, or even thoughtfulness, did -they give; and in fact the only possible result of looking at this face -which some people called expressive, was a feeling that the man himself -was calmly conscious of the fact that some people were in the habit of -calling his face expressive. - -“And what _do_ you think of him now, my dear?” asked Mrs. Crawford, -after Daireen had gratified her by taking that look. - -“I really don't think that I think anything,” she answered with a little -laugh. - -“That is the beauty of his face,” cried Mrs. Crawford. “It sets one -thinking.” - -“But that is not what I said, Mrs. Crawford.” - -“You said you did not think you were thinking anything, Daireen; and -that meant, I know, that there was more in his face than you could read -at a first glance. Never mind; every one is set thinking when one sees -Mr. Glaston.” - -Daireen had almost become interested in this Mr. Glaston, even though -she could not forget that he had watched her when she did not want to -be watched. She gave another glance towards him, but with no more -profitable conclusion than her previous look had attained. - -“I will tell you all about him, my child,” said Mrs. Crawford -confidentially; “but first let us make ourselves comfortable. Dear old -England, there is the last of it for us for some time. Adieu, adieu, -dear old country!” There was not much sentimentality in the stout little -lady's tone, as she looked towards the faint line of mist far astern -that marked the English coast. She sat down with Daireen to the leeward -of the deck-house where she had laid her rugs, and until the tea-bell -rang Daireen had certainly no opportunity for moping. - -Mrs. Crawford told her that this Mr. Glaston was a young man of such -immense capacities that nothing lay outside his grasp either in art or -science. He had not thought it necessary to devote his attention to -any subject in particular; but that, Mrs. Crawford thought, was rather -because there existed no single subject that he considered worthy of an -expenditure of all his energies. As things unfortunately existed, there -was nothing left for him but to get rid of the unbounded resources of -his mind by applying them to a variety of subjects. He had, in fact, -written poetry--never an entire volume of course, but exceedingly clever -pieces that had been published in his college magazine. He was capable -of painting a great picture if he chose, though he had contented himself -with giving ideas to other men who had worked them out through the -medium of pictures. He was one of the most accomplished of musicians; -and if he had not yet produced an opera or composed even a song, -instances were on record of his having performed impromptus that would -undoubtedly have made the fame of a professor. He was the son of a -Colonial Bishop, Mrs. Crawford told Daireen, and though he lived in -England he was still dutiful enough to go out to pay a month's visit to -his father every year. - -“But we must not make him conceited, Daireen,” said Mrs. Crawford, -ending her discourse; “we must not, dear; and if he should look over -and see us together this way, he would conclude that we were talking of -him.” - -Daireen rose with her instructive companion with an uneasy sense of -feeling that all they could by their combined efforts contribute to the -conceit of a young man who would, upon grounds so slight, come to such a -conclusion as Mrs. Crawford feared he might, would be but trifling. - -Then the tea-bell rang, and all the novices who had enjoyed the roast -pork and dumplings at dinner, descended to make a hearty meal of -buttered toast and banana jelly. The sea air had given them an appetite, -they declared with much merriment. The chief steward, however, being an -experienced man, and knowing that in a few hours the Bay of Biscay -would be entered, did not, from observing the hearty manner in which the -novices were eating, feel uneasy on the matter of the endurance of the -ship's stores. He knew it would be their last meal for some days at -least, and he smiled grimly as he laid down another plate of buttered -toast, and hastened off to send up some more brandy and biscuits to -Major Crawford and Doctor Campion, whose hoarse chuckles called forth -by pleasing reminiscences of Cawnpore were dimly heard from the deck -through the cabin skylight. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - - An hour of quiet shortly shall we see; - - Till then in patience our proceeding be. - - We'll put on those shall praise your excellence - - And set a double varnish on the fame - - The Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine together. - - ... I know love is begun by time. - - I know him well: he is the brooch indeed - - And gem of all the nation. - - He made confession of you, - - And gave you such a masterly report - - For art...'twould be a sight indeed - - If one could match you. - - --Hamlet. - - -|MRS. Crawford absolutely clung to Daireen all this evening. When the -whist parties were formed in the cabin she brought the girl on deck and -instructed her in some of the matters worth knowing aboard a passenger -ship. - -“On no account bind yourself to any whist set before you look about you: -nothing could be more dangerous,” she said confidentially. “Just think -how terrible it would be if you were to join a set now, and afterwards -to find out that it was not the best set. You would simply be ruined. -Besides that, it is better to stay on deck as much as possible during -the first day or two at sea. Now let us go over to the major and -Campion.” - -So Daireen found herself borne onward with Mrs. Crawford's arm in her -own to where Major Crawford and Doctor Campion were sitting on their -battered deck-chairs lighting fresh cheroots from the ashes of the -expiring ends. - -“Don't tread on the tumblers, my dear,” said the major as his wife -advanced. “And how is Miss Gerald now that we have got under weigh? You -didn't take any of that liquid they insult the Chinese Empire by calling -tea, aboard ship, I hope?” - -“Just a single cup, and very weak,” said Mrs. Crawford apologetically. - -“My dear, I thought you were wiser.” - -“You will take this chair, Mrs. Crawford?” said Doctor Campion, without -making the least pretence of moving, however. - -“Don't think of such a thing,” cried the lady's husband; and to do -Doctor Campion justice, he did not think of such a thing. “Why, you -don't fancy these are our Junkapore days, do you, when Kate came out -to our bungalow, and the boys called her the Sylph? It's a fact, Miss -Gerald; my wife, as your father will tell you, was as slim as a lily. -Ah, dear, dear! Time, they say, takes a lot away from us, but by Jingo, -he's liberal enough in some ways. By Jingo, yes,” and the gallant old -man kept shaking his head and chuckling towards his comrade, whose -features could be seen puckered into a grin though he uttered no sound. - -“And stranger still, Miss Gerald,” said the lady, “the major was once -looked upon as a polite man, and politer to his wife than to anybody -else. Go and fetch some chairs here, Campion, like a good fellow,” she -added to the doctor, who rose slowly and obeyed. - -“That's how my wife takes command of the entire battalion, Miss Gerald,” - remarked the major. “Oh, your father will tell you all about her.” - -The constant reference to her father by one who was an old friend, came -with a cheering influence to the girl. A terrible question as to what -might be the result of her arrival at the Cape had suggested itself to -her more than once since she had left Ireland; but now the major did not -seem to fancy that there could be any question in the matter. - -When the chairs were brought, and enveloped in karosses, as the old -campaigners called the furs, there arose a chatter of bungalows, and -punkahs, and puggarees, and calapashes, and curries, that was quite -delightful to the girl's ears, especially as from time to time -her father's name would be mentioned in connection with some -elephant-trapping expedition, or, perhaps, a mess joke. - -When at last Daireen found herself alone in the cabin which her -grandfather had managed to secure for her, she did not feel that -loneliness which she thought she should have felt aboard this ship full -of strangers without sympathy for her. - -She stood for a short time in the darkness, looking out of her cabin -port over the long waters, and listening to the sound of the waves -hurrying away from the ship and flapping against its sides, and once -more she thought of the purple mountain and the green Irish Lough. -Then as she moved away from the port her thoughts stretched in another -direction--southward. Her heart was full of hope as she turned in to -her bunk and went quietly asleep just as the first waves of the Bay of -Biscay were making the good steamer a little uneasy, and bringing about -a bitter remorse to those who had made merry over the dumplings and -buttered toast. - -Major Crawford was an officer who had served for a good many years in -India, and had there become acquainted with Daireen's father and mother. -When Mr. Gerald was holding his grandchild in his arms aboard the -steamer saying good-bye, he was surprised by a strange lady coming up to -him and begging to be informed if it was possible that Daireen was the -daughter of Colonel Gerald. In another instant Mr. Gerald was overjoyed -to know that Daireen would be during the entire voyage in the company -of an officer and his wife who were old friends of her father, and had -recognised her from her likeness to her mother, whom they had also known -when she was little older than Daireen. Mr. Gerald left the vessel with -a mind at rest; and that his belief that the girl would be looked after -was well-founded is already known. Daireen was, indeed, in the hands of -a lady who was noted in many parts of the world for her capacities for -taking charge of young ladies. When she was in India her position at -the station was very similiar to that of immigration-agent-general. Fond -matrons in England, who had brought their daughters year after year to -Homburg, Kissingen, and Nice, in the “open” season, and had yet brought -them back in safety--matrons who had even sunk to the low level of -hydropathic hunting-grounds without success, were accustomed to write -pathetic letters to Junkapore and Arradambad conveying to Mrs. Crawford -intelligence of the strange fancy that some of the dear girls had -conceived to visit those parts of the Indian Empire, and begging Mrs. -Crawford to give her valuable advice with regard to the carrying out of -such remarkable freaks. Never in any of these cases had the major's wife -failed. These forlorn hopes took passage to India and found in her a -real friend, with tact, perseverance, and experience. The subalterns -of the station were never allowed to mope in a wretched, companionless -condition; and thus Mrs. Crawford had achieved for herself a -certain fame, which it was her study to maintain. Having herself had -men-children only, she had no personal interests to look after. Her boys -had been swaddled in puggarees, spoon-fed with curry, and nurtured upon -chutney, and had so developed into full-grown Indians ready for the -choicest appointments, and they had succeeded very well indeed. Her -husband had now received a command from the War Office to proceed to -the Cape for the purpose of obtaining evidence on the subject of the -regulation boots to be supplied to troops on active foreign service; -a commission upon this most important subject having been ordered by -a Parliamentary vote. Other officers of experience had been sent to -various of the colonies, and much was expected to result from the -prosecution of their inquiries, the opponents of the Government being -confident that gussets would eventually be allowed to non-commissioned -officers, and back straps to privates. - -Of course Major Crawford could not set out on a mission so important -without the companionship of his wife. Though just at the instant of -Daireen's turning in, the major fancied he might have managed to get -along pretty well even if his partner had been left behind him in -England. He was inclined to snarl in his cabin at nights when his wife -unfolded her plans to him and kept him awake to give his opinion as -to the possibility of the tastes of various young persons becoming -assimilated. To-night the major expressed his indifference as to whether -every single man in the ship's company got married to every single woman -before the end of the voyage, or whether they all went to perdition -singly. He concluded by wishing fervently that they would disappear, -married and single, by a supernatural agency. - -“But think, how gratified poor Gerald would be if the dear girl could -think as I do on this subject,” said Mrs. Crawford persistently, -alluding to the matter of certain amalgamation of tastes. At this point, -however, the major expressed himself in words still more vigorous than -he had brought to his aid before, and his wife thought it prudent to get -into her bunk without pursuing any further the question of the possible -gratification of Colonel Gerald at the unanimity of thought existing -between his daughter and Mrs. Crawford. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - - How dangerous is it that this man goes loose... - - He's loved of the distracted multitude, - - Who like not in their judgment but their eyes: - - And where 'tis so the offender's scourge is weigh'd, - - But never the offence. - - Look here upon this picture, and on this. - - Thus has he--and many more of the same breed that I know the drossy age -dotes on--only got the tune of the time... a kind of yesty collection -which carries them through and through the most fond and winnowed -opinions; and do but blow them to their trial, the bubbles are -out.--_Hamlet_. - - -|THE uneasy bosom of the Bay of Biscay was throbbing with its customary -emotion beneath the good vessel, when Daireen awoke the next morning to -the sound of creaking timbers and rioting glasses. Above her on the deck -the tramp of a healthy passenger, who wore a pedometer and walked three -miles every morning before breakfast, was heard, now dilating and now -decreasing, as he passed over the cabins. He had almost completed his -second mile, and was putting on a spurt in order to keep himself up to -time; his spurt at the end of the first mile had effectually awakened -all the passengers beneath, who had yet remained undisturbed through the -earlier part of his tramp. - -Mrs. Crawford, looking bright and fresh and good-natured, entered -Daireen's cabin before the girl was ready to leave it. She certainly -seemed determined that the confidence Mr. Gerald had reposed in her with -regard to the care of his granddaughter should not prove to have been -misplaced. - -“I am not going in, my dear,” she said as she entered the cabin. “I only -stepped round to see that you were all right this morning. I knew you -would be so, though Robinson the steward tells me that even the little -sea there is on in the bay has been quite sufficient to make about a -dozen vacancies at the breakfast-table. People are such fools when they -come aboard a ship--eating boiled paste and all sorts of things, and -so the sea is grossly misrepresented. Did that dreadfully healthy Mr. -Thompson awake you with his tramping on deck? Of course he did; he's a -dreadful man. If he goes on like this we'll have to petition the captain -to lay down bark on the deck. Now I'll leave you. Come aloft when -you are ready; and, by the way, you must take care what dress you put -on--very great care.” - -“Why, I thought that aboard ship one might wear anything,” said the -girl. - -“Never was there a greater mistake, my child. People say the same about -going to the seaside: anything will do; but you know how one requires to -be doubly particular there; and it's just the same in our little world -aboard ship.” - -“You quite frighten me, Mrs. Crawford,” said Daireen. “What advice can -you give me on the subject?” - -Mrs. Crawford was thoughtful. “If you had only had time to prepare -for the voyage, and I had been beside you, everything might have been -different. You must not wear anything pronounced--any distinct colour: -you must find out something undecided--you understand?” - -Daireen looked puzzled. “I'm sorry to say I don't.” - -“Oh, you have surely something of pale sage--no, that is a bad tone -for the first days aboard--too like the complexions of most of the -passengers--but, chocolate-gray? ah, that should do: have you anything -in that to do for a morning dress?” - -Daireen was so extremely fortunate as to be possessed of a garment of -the required tone, and her kind friend left her arraying herself in its -folds. - -On going aloft Daireen found the deck occupied by a select few of the -passengers. The healthy gentleman was just increasing his pace for the -final hundred yards of his morning's walk, and Doctor Campion had got -very near the end of his second cheroot, while he sat talking to a -fair-haired and bronze-visaged man with clear gray eyes that had such -a way of looking at things as caused people to fancy he was making -a mental calculation of the cubic measure of everything; and it was -probably the recollection of their peculiarity that made people fancy, -when these eyes looked into a human face, that the mind of the man was -going through a similar calculation with reference to the human object: -one could not avoid feeling that he had a number of formulas for -calculating the intellectual value of people, and that when he looked at -a person he was thinking which formula should be employed for arriving -at a conclusion regarding that person's mental capacity. - -Mrs. Crawford was chatting with the doctor and his companion, but on -Daireen's appearing, she went over to her. - -“Perfect, my child,” she said in a whisper--“the tone of the dress, I -mean; it will work wonders.” - -While Daireen was reflecting upon the possibility of a suspension of the -laws of nature being the result of the appearance of the chocolate-toned -dress, she was led towards the doctor, who immediately went through a -fiction of rising from his seat as she approached; and one would really -have fancied that he intended getting upon his feet, and was only -restrained at the last moment by a remonstrance of the girl's. Daireen -acknowledged his courtesy, though it was only imaginary, and she was -conscious that his companion had really risen. - -“You haven't made the acquaintance of Miss Gerald, Mr. Harwood?” said -Mrs. Crawford. - -“I have not had the honour,” said the man. - -“Let me present you, Daireen. Mr. Harwood--Miss Gerald. Now take great -care what you say to this gentleman, Daireen; he is a dangerous man--the -most dangerous that any one could meet. He is a detective, dear, and -the worst of all--a literary detective; the 'special' of the _Domnant -Trumpeter_.” - -Daireen had looked into the man's face while she was being presented to -him, and she knew it was the face of a man who had seen the people of -more than one nation. - -“This is not your first voyage, Miss Gerald, or you would not be on deck -so early?” he said. - -“It certainly is not,” she replied. “I was born in India, so that my -first voyage was to England; then I have crossed the Irish Channel -frequently, going to school and returning for the holidays; and I have -also had some long voyages on Lough Suangorm,” she added with a little -smile, for she did not think that her companion would be likely to have -heard of the existence of the Irish fjord. - -“Suangorm? then you have had some of the most picturesque voyages one -can make in the course of a day in this world,” he said. “Lough Suangorm -is the most wonderful fjord in the world, let me tell you.” - -“Then you know it,” she cried with a good deal of surprise. “You must -know the dear old lough or you would not talk so.” She did not seem to -think that his assertion should imply that he had seen a good many other -fjords also. - -“I think I may say I know it. Yes, from those fine headlands that the -Atlantic beats against, to where the purple slope of that great hill -meets the little road.” - -“You know the hill--old Slieve Docas? How strange! I live just at the -foot.” - -“I have a sketch of a mansion, taken just there,” he said, laughing. “It -is of a dark brown exterior.” - -“Exactly.” - -“It looks towards the sea.” - -“It does indeed.” - -“It is exceedingly picturesque.” - -“Picturesque?” - -“Well, yes; the house I allude to is very much so. If I recollect -aright, the one window of the wall was not glazed, and the smoke -certainly found its way out through a hole in the roof.” - -“Oh, that is too bad,” said Daireen. “I had no idea that the -peculiarities of my country people would be known so far away. Please -don't say anything about that sketch to the passengers aboard.” - -“I shall never be tempted to allude, even by the 'pronouncing of some -doubtful phrase,' to the--the--peculiarities of your country people, -Miss Gerald,” he answered. “It is a lovely country, and contains the -most hospitable people in the world; but their talent does not develop -itself architecturally. Ah! there is the second bell. I hope you have an -appetite.” - -“Have you been guarded enough in your conversation, Daireen?” said Mrs. -Crawford, coming up with the doctor, whose rising at the summons of the -breakfast-bell was by no means a fiction. - -“The secrets of the Home Rule Confederation are safe in the keeping of -Miss Gerald,” said Mr. Harwood, with a smile which any one could see was -simply the result of his satisfaction at having produced a well-turned -sentence. - -The breakfast-table was very thinly attended, more so even than Robinson -the steward had anticipated when on the previous evening he had laid -down that second plate of buttered toast before the novices. - -Of the young ladies only three appeared at the table, and their -complexions were of the softest amber shade that was ever worked in -satin in the upholstery of mock-mediæval furniture. Major Crawford had -just come out of the steward's pantry, and he greeted Daireen with all -courtesy, as indeed he did the other young ladies at the table, for the -major was gallant and gay aboard ship. - -After every one had been seated for about ten minutes, the curtain that -screened off one of the cabin entrances from the saloon was moved aside, -and the figure of the young man to whom Mrs. Crawford had alluded as -Mr. Glaston appeared. He came slowly forward, nodding to the captain and -saying good-morning to Mrs. Crawford, while he elevated his eyebrows in -recognition of Mr. Harwood, taking his seat at the table. - -“You can't have an appetite coming directly out of your bunk,” said the -doctor. - -“Indeed?” said Mr. Glaston, without the least expression. - -“Quite impossible,” said the doctor. “You should have been up an hour -ago at least. Here is Mr. Thompson, who has walked more than three miles -in the open air.” - -“Ah,” said the other, never moving his eyes to see the modest smile that -spread itself over the features of the exemplary Mr. Thompson. “Ah, I -heard some one who seemed to be going in for that irrepressible thousand -miles in a thousand hours. Yes, bring me a pear and a grape.” The last -sentence he addressed to the waiter, who, having been drilled by -the steward on the subject of Mr. Glaston's tastes, did not show any -astonishment at being asked for fruit instead of fish, but hastened off -to procure the grape and the pear. - -While Mr. Glaston was waiting he glanced across the table, and gave -a visible start as his eyes rested upon one of the young ladies--a -pleasant-looking girl wearing a pink dress and having a blue ribbon in -her hair. Mr. Glaston gave a little shudder, and then turned away. - -“That face--ah, where have I beheld it?” muttered Mr. Harwood to the -doctor. - -“Dam puppy!” said the doctor. - -Then the plate and fruit were laid before Mr. Glaston, who said quickly, -“Take them away.” The bewildered waiter looked towards his chief and -obeyed, so that Mr. Glaston remained with an empty plate. Robinson -became uneasy. - -“Can I get you anything, sir?--we have three peaches aboard and a -pine-apple,” he murmured. - -“Can't touch anything now, Robinson,” Mr. Glaston answered. - -“The doctor is right,” said Mrs. Crawford. “You have no appetite, Mr. -Glaston.” - -“No,” he replied; “not _now_,” and he gave the least glance towards -the girl in pink, who began to feel that all her school dreams of going -forth into the world of men to conquer and overcome were being realised -beyond her wildest anticipations. - -Then there was a pause at the table, which the good major broke by -suddenly inquiring something of the captain. Mr. Glaston, however, sat -silent, and somewhat sad apparently, until the breakfast was over. - -Daireen went into her cabin for a book, and remained arranging some -volumes on the little shelf for a few minutes. Mr. Glaston was on deck -when she ascended, and he was engaged in a very serious conversation -with Mrs. Crawford. - -“Something must be done. Surely she has a guardian aboard who is not so -utterly lost to everything of truth and right as to allow that to go on -unchecked.” - -These words Daireen could make out as she passed the young man and the -major's wife, and the girl began to fear that something terrible was -about to happen. But Mr. Harwood, who was standing above the major's -chair, hastened forward as she appeared. - -“Why, Major Crawford has been telling me that your father is Colonel -Gerald,” he said. “Mrs. Crawford never mentioned that fact, thinking -that I should be able to guess it for myself.” - -“Did you know papa?” Daireen asked. - -“I met him several times when I was out about the Baroda affair,” said -the “special.” - -“And as you are his daughter, I suppose it will interest you to know -that he has been selected as the first governor of the Castaways.” - -Daireen looked puzzled. “The Castaways?” she said. - -“Yes, Miss Gerald; the lovely Castaway Islands which, you know, have -just been annexed by England. Colonel Gerald has been chosen by the -Colonial Secretary as the first governor.” - -“But I heard nothing of this,” said Daireen, a little astonished to -receive such information in the Bay of Biscay. - -“How could you hear anything of it? No one outside the Cabinet has the -least idea of it.” - -“And you----” said the girl doubtfully. - -“Ah, my dear Miss Gerald, the resources of information possessed by the -_Dominant Trumpeter_ are as unlimited as they are trustworthy. You may -depend upon what I tell you. It is not generally known that I am now -bound for the Castaway group, to make the British public aware of the -extent of the treasure they have acquired in these sunny isles. But I -understood that Colonel Gerald was on his way from Madras?” - -Daireen explained how her father came to be at the Cape, and Mr. Harwood -gave her a few cheering words regarding his sickness. She was greatly -disappointed when their conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Crawford. - -“The poor fellow!” she said--“Mr. Glaston, I mean. I have induced him to -go down and eat some grapes and a pear.” - -“Why couldn't he take them at breakfast and not betray his idiocy?” said -Mr. Harwood. - -“Mr. Harwood, you have no sympathy for sufferers from sensitiveness,” - replied the lady. “Poor Mr. Glaston! he had an excellent appetite, but -he found it impossible to touch anything the instant he saw that fearful -pink dress with the blue ribbon hanging over it.” - -“Poor fellow!” said Mr. Harwood. - -“Dam puppy!” said the doctor. - -“Campion!” cried Mrs. Crawford severely. - -“A thousand pardons! my dear Miss Gerald,” said the transgressor. “But -what can a man say when he hears of such puppyism? This is my third -voyage with that young man, and he has been developing into the -full-grown puppy with the greatest rapidity.” - -“You have no fine feeling, Campion,” said Mrs. Crawford. “You have got -no sympathy for those who are artistically sensitive. But hush! here -is the offending person herself, and with such a hat! Now admit that to -look at her sends a cold shudder through you.” - -“I think her a devilish pretty little thing, by gad,” said the doctor. - -The young lady with the pink dress and the blue ribbon appeared, wearing -the additional horror of a hat lined with yellow and encircled with -mighty flowers. - -“Something must be done to suppress her,” said Mrs. Crawford decisively. -“Surely such people must have a better side to their natures that one -may appeal to.” - -“I doubt it, Mrs. Crawford,” said Mr. Harwood, with only the least tinge -of sarcasm in his voice. “I admit that one might not have been in -utter despair though the dress was rather aggressive, but I cannot see -anything but depravity in that hat with those floral splendours.” - -“But what is to be done?” said the lady. “Mr. Glaston would, no doubt, -advocate making a Jonah of that young person for the sake of saving the -rest of the ship's company. But, however just that might be, I do not -suppose it would be considered strictly legal.” - -“Many acts of justice are done that are not legal,” replied Harwood -gravely. “From a legal standpoint, Cain was no murderer--his accuser -being witness and also judge. He would leave the court without a stain -on his character nowadays. Meantime, major, suppose we have a smoke on -the bridge.” - -“He fancies he has said something clever,” remarked Mrs. Crawford when -he had walked away; and it must be confessed that Mr. Harwood had a -suspicion to that effect. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - - His will is not his own; - - For he himself is subject to his birth: - - He may not, as unvalued persons do, - - Carve for himself; for on his choice depends - - The safety and the health of this whole state, - - And therefore must his choice be circumscribed - - Unto the voice and yielding of that body, - - Whereof he is the head. - -_Osric_.... Believe me, an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent -differences, of very soft society and great showing; indeed, to speak -feelingly of him, he is the card... of gentry. - -_Hamlet_.... His definement suffers no perdition in you... But, in the -verity of extolment I take him to be a soul of great article.--_Hamlet._ - - -|THE information which Daireen had received on the unimpeachable -authority of the special correspondent of the _Dominant Trumpeter_ was -somewhat puzzling to her at first; but as she reflected upon the fact -hat the position of governor of the newly-acquired Castaway group must -be one of importance, she could not help feeling some happiness; only in -the midmost heart of her joy her recollection clasped a single grief---a -doubt about her father was still clinging to her heart. The letter her -grandfather had received which caused her to make up her mind to set out -for the Cape, merely stated that Colonel Gerald had been found too weak -to continue the homeward voyage in the vessel that had brought him from -India. He had a bad attack of fever, and was not allowed to be moved -from where he lay at the Cape. The girl thought over all of this as she -reflected upon what Mr. Harwood had told her, and looking over the long -restless waters of the Bay of Biscay from her seat far astern, her eyes -became very misty; the unhappy author represented by the yellow-covered -book which she had been reading lay neglected upon her knee. But soon -her brave, hopeful heart took courage, and she began to paint in her -imagination the fairest pictures of the future--a future beneath the -rich blue sky that was alleged by the Ministers who had brought about -the annexation, evermore to overshadow the Castaway group--a future -beneath the purple shadow of the giant Slieve Docas when her father -would have discharged his duties at the Castaways. - -She could not even pretend to herself to be reading the book she had -brought up, so that Mrs. Crawford could not have been accused of an -interruption when she drew her chair alongside the girl's, saying: - -“We must have a little chat together, now that there is a chance for it. -It is really terrible how much time one can fritter away aboard ship. I -have known people take long voyages for the sake of study, and yet never -open a single book but a novel. By the way, what is this the major has -been telling me Harwood says about your father?” - -Daireen repeated all that Harwood had said regarding the new island -colony, and begged Mrs. Crawford to give an opinion as to the -trustworthiness of the information. - -“My dear child,” said Mrs. Crawford, “you may depend upon its truth if -Harwood told it to you. The _Dominant Trumpeter_ sends out as many arms -as an octopus, for news, and, like the octopus too, it has the instinct -of only making use of what is worth anything. The Government have been -very good to George--I mean Colonel Gerald--he was always 'George' with -us when he was lieutenant. The Castaway governorship is one of the -nice things they sometimes have to dispose of to the deserving. It was -thought, you know, that George would sell out and get his brevet long -ago, but what he often said to us after your poor mother died convinced -me that he would not accept a quiet life. And so it was Mr. Harwood that -gave you this welcome news,” she continued, adding in a thoughtful tone, -“By the way, what do you think of Mr. Harwood?” - -“I really have not thought anything about him,” Daireen replied, -wondering if it was indeed a necessity of life aboard ship to be able at -a moment's notice to give a summary of her opinion as to the nature of -every person she might chance to meet. - -“He is a very nice man,” said Mrs. Crawford; “only just inclined to be -conceited, don't you think? This is our third voyage with him, so that -we know something of him. One knows more of a person at the end of a -week at sea than after a month ashore. What can be keeping Mr. Glaston -over his pears, I wonder? I meant to have presented him to you before. -Ah, here he comes out of the companion. I asked him to return to me.” - -But again Mrs. Crawford's expectations were dashed to the ground. Mr. -Glaston certainly did appear on deck, and showed some sign in a -languid way of walking over to where Mrs. Crawford was sitting, but -unfortunately before he had taken half a dozen steps he caught sight -of that terrible pink dress and the hat with the jaundiced interior. He -stopped short, and a look of martyrdom passed over his face as he turned -and made his way to the bridge in the opposite direction to where -that horror of pronounced tones sat quite unconscious of the agony her -appearance was creating in the aesthetic soul of the young man. - -Daireen having glanced up and seen the look of dismay upon his face, and -the flight of Mr. Glaston, could not avoid laughing outright so soon as -he had disappeared. But Mrs. Crawford did not laugh. On the contrary she -looked very grave. - -“This is terrible--terrible, Daireen,” she said. “That vile hat has -driven him away. I knew it must.” - -“Matters are getting serious indeed,” said the girl, with only the least -touch of mockery in her voice. “If he is not allowed to eat anything at -breakfast in sight of the dress, and he is driven up to the bridge by -a glimpse of the hat, I am afraid that his life will not be quite happy -here.” - -“Happy! my dear, you cannot conceive the agonies he endures through his -sensitiveness. I must make the acquaintance of that young person and -try to bring her to see the error of her ways. Oh, how fortunate you had -this chocolate-gray!” - -“I must have thought of it in a moment of inspiration,” said Daireen. - -“Come, you really mustn't laugh,” said the elder lady reprovingly. “It -was a happy thought, at any rate, and I only hope that you will be able -to sustain its effect by something good at dinner. I must look over your -trunks and tell you what tone is most artistic.” - -Daireen began to feel rebellious. - -“My dear Mrs. Crawford, it is very kind of you to offer to take so much -trouble; but, you see, I do not feel it to be a necessity to choose the -shade of my dress solely to please the taste of a gentleman who may not -be absolutely perfect in his ideas.” - -Mrs. Crawford laughed. “Do not get angry, my dear,” she said. “I admire -your spirit, and I will not attempt to control your own good taste; -you will never, I am sure, sink to such a depth of depravity as is -manifested by that hat.” - -“Well, I think you may depend on me so far,” said Daireen. - -Shortly afterwards Mrs. Crawford descended to arrange some matters in -her cabin, and Daireen had consequently an opportunity of returning to -her neglected author. - -But before she had made much progress in her study she was again -interrupted, and this time by Doctor Campion, who had been smoking with -Mr. Harwood on the ship's bridge. Doctor Campion was a small man, with -a reddish face upon which a perpetual frown was resting. He had a jerky -way of turning his head as if it was set upon a ratchet wheel only -capable of shifting a tooth at a time. He had been in the army for a -good many years, and had only accepted the post aboard the _Cardwell -Castle_ for the sake of his health. - -“Young cub!” he muttered, as he came up to Daireen. “Infernal young -cub!--I beg your pardon, Miss Gerald, but I really must say it. That -fellow Glaston is getting out of all bounds. Ah, it's his father's -fault--his father's fault. Keeps him dawdling about England without any -employment. Why, it would have been better for him to have taken to the -Church, as they call it, at once, idle though the business is.” - -“Surely you have not been wearing an inartistic tie, Doctor Campion?” - -“Inartistic indeed! The puppy has got so much cant on his finger-ends -that weak-minded people think him a genius. Don't you believe it, my -dear; he's a dam puppy--excuse me, but there's really no drawing it mild -here.” - -Daireen was amused at the doctor's vehemence, however shocked she may -have been at his manner of getting rid of it. - -“What on earth has happened with Mr. Glaston now?” she asked. “It is -impossible that there could be another obnoxious dress aboard.” - -“He hasn't given himself any airs in that direction since,” said the -doctor. “But he came up to the bridge where we were smoking, and after -he had talked for a minute with Harwood, he started when he saw a boy -who had been sent up to clean out one of the hencoops--asked if we -didn't think his head marvellously like Carlyle's--was amazed at our -want of judgment--went up to the boy and cross-questioned him--found out -that his father sells vegetables to the Victoria Docks--asked if it had -ever been remarked before that his head was like Carlyle's--boy says -quickly that if the man he means is the tailor in Wapping, anybody that -says his head is like that man's is a liar, and then boy goes quietly -down. 'Wonderful!' says our genius, as he comes over to us; 'wonderful -head--exactly the same as Carlyle's, and language marvellously -similar--brief--earnest--emphatic--full of powah!' Then he goes on -to say he'll take notes of the boy's peculiarities and send them to a -magazine. I couldn't stand any more of that sort of thing, so I left him -with Harwood. Harwood can sift him.” - -Daireen laughed at this new story of the young man whose movements -seemed to be regarded as of so much importance by every one aboard the -steamer. She began really to feel interested in this Mr. Glaston; and -she thought that perhaps she might as well be particular about the tone -of the dress she would select for appearing in before the judicial eyes -of this Mr. Glaston. She relinquished the design she had formed in -her mind while Mrs. Crawford was urging on her the necessity for -discrimination in this respect: she had resolved to show a recklessness -in her choice of a dress, but now she felt that she had better take Mrs. -Crawford's advice, and give some care to the artistic combinations of -her toilette. - -The result of her decision was that she appeared in such studious -carelessness of attire that Mr. Glaston, sitting opposite to her, was -enabled to eat a hearty dinner utterly regardless of the aggressive -splendour of the imperial blue dress worn by the other young lady, -with a pink ribbon flowing over it from her hair. This young lady's -imagination was unequal to suggesting a more diversified arrangement -than she had already shown. She thought it gave evidence of considerable -strategical resources to wear that pink ribbon over the blue dress: it -was very nearly as effective as the blue ribbon over the pink, of the -morning. The appreciation of contrast as an important element of effect -in art was very strongly developed in this young lady. - -Mrs. Crawford did not conceal the satisfaction she felt observing the -appetite of Mr. Glaston; and after dinner she took his arm as he went -towards the bridge. - -“I am so glad you were not offended with that dreadful young person's -hideous colours,” she said, as they strolled along. - -“I could hardly have believed it possible that such wickedness could -survive nowadays,” he replied. “But I was, after the first few minutes, -quite unconscious of its enormity. My dear Mrs. Crawford, your young -protégée appeared as a spirit of light to charm away that fiend of evil. -She sat before me--a poem of tones--a delicate symphony of Schumann's -played at twilight on the brink of a mere of long reeds and water-flags, -with a single star shining through the well-defined twigs of a solitary -alder. That was her idea, don't you think?” - -“I have no doubt of it,” the lady replied after a little pause. “But -if you allow me to present you to her you will have an opportunity of -finding out. Now do let me.” - -“Not this evening, Mrs. Crawford; I do not feel equal to it,” he -answered. “She has given me too much to think about--too many ideas to -work out. That was the most thoughtful and pure-souled toilette I ever -recollect; but there are a few points about it I do not fully grasp, -though I have an instinct of their meaning. No, I want a quiet hour -alone. But you will do me the favour to thank the child for me.” - -“I wish you would come and do it yourself,” said the lady. “But I -suppose there is no use attempting to force you. If you change your -mind, remember that we shall be here.” - -She left the young man preparing a cigarette, and joined Daireen and -the major, who were sitting far astern: the girl with that fiction of -a fiction still in her hand; her companion with a cheroot that was -anything but insubstantial in his fingers. - -“My dear child,” whispered Mrs. Crawford, “I am so glad you took your -own way and would not allow me to choose your dress for you. I could -never have dreamt of anything so perfect and----yes, it is far beyond -what I could have composed.” - -Mrs. Crawford thought it better on the whole not to transfer to Daireen -the expression of gratitude Mr. Glaston had begged to be conveyed to -her. She had an uneasy consciousness that such a message coming to -one who was as yet unacquainted with Mr. Glaston might give her the -impression that he was inclined to have some of that unhappy conceit, -with the possession of which Mrs. Crawford herself had accredited the -race generally. - -“Miss Gerald is an angel in whatever dress she may wear,” said the major -gallantly. “What is dress, after all?” he asked. “By gad, my dear, the -finest women I ever recollect seeing were in Burmah, and all the dress -they wore was the merest----” - -“Major, you forget yourself,” cried his wife severely. - -The major pulled vigorously at the end of his moustache, grinning and -bobbing his head towards the doctor. - -“By gad, my dear, the recollection of those beauties would make any -fellow forget not only himself but his own wife, even if she was as fine -a woman as yourself.” - -The doctor's face relapsed into its accustomed frown after he had given -a responsive grin and a baritone chuckle to the delicate pleasantry of -his old comrade. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - - Look, with what courteous action - - It waves you to a more removed ground: - - But do not go with it. - - The very place puts toys of desperation, - - Without more motive, into every brain. - -_Horatio._ What are they that would speak with me? - -_Servant_. Sea-faring men, sir.--_Hamlet_. - - -|WHO does not know the delightful monotony of a voyage southward, broken -only at the intervals of anchoring beneath the brilliant green slopes of -Madeira or under the grim shadow of the cliffs of St. Helena? - -The first week of the voyage for those who are not sensitive of the -uneasy motion of the ship through the waves of the Bay of Biscay is -perhaps the most delightful, for then every one is courteous with every -one else. The passengers have not become friendly enough to be able to -quarrel satisfactorily. The young ladies have got a great deal of white -about them, and they have not begun to show that jealousy of each other -which the next fortnight so powerfully develops. The men, too, are -prodigal in their distribution of cigars; and one feels in one's own -heart nothing but the most generous emotions, as one sits filling a -meerschaum with Latakia in the delicate twilight of time and of thought -that succeeds the curried lobster and pilau chickens as prepared in the -galley of such ships as the _Cardwell Castle_. Certainly for a week of -Sabbaths a September voyage to Madeira must be looked to. - -Things had begun to arrange themselves aboard the _Cardwell Castle_. The -whist sets and the deck sets had been formed. The far-stretching arm of -society had at least one finger in the construction of the laws of life -in this Atlantic ship-town. - -The young woman with the pronounced tastes in colour and the large -resources of imagination in the arrangement of blue and pink had become -less aggressive, as she was compelled to fall back upon the minor -glories of her trunk, so that there was no likelihood of Mr. Glaston's -perishing of starvation. Though very fond of taking-up young ladies, -Mrs. Crawford had no great struggle with her propensity so far as this -young lady was concerned. But as Mr. Glaston had towards the evening of -the third day of the voyage found himself in a fit state of mind to be -presented to Miss Gerald, Mrs. Crawford had nothing to complain of. She -knew that the young man was invariably fascinating to all of her sex, -and she could see no reason why Miss Gerald should not have at least the -monotony of the voyage relieved for her through the improving nature -of his conversation. To be sure, Mr. Harwood also possessed in his -conversation many elements of improvement, but then they were of a more -commonplace type in Mrs. Crawford's eyes, and she thought it as well, -now and again when he was sitting beside Daireen, to make a third to -their party and assist in the solution of any question they might be -discussing. She rather wished that it had not been in Mr. Harwood's -power to give Daireen that information about her father's appointment; -it was a sort of link of friendship between him and the girl; but Mrs. -Crawford recollected her own responsibility with regard to Daireen too -well to allow such a frail link to become a bond to bind with any degree -of force. - -She was just making a mental resolution to this effect upon the day -preceding their expected arrival at Madeira, when Mr. Harwood, who had -before tiffin been showing the girl how to adjust a binocular glass, -strolled up to where the major's wife sat resolving many things, -reflecting upon her victories in quarter-deck campaigns of the past and -laying out her tactics for the future. - -“This is our third voyage together, is it not, Mrs. Crawford?” he asked. - -“Let me see,” said the lady. “Yes, it is our third. Dear, dear, how time -runs past us!” - -“I wish it did run past us; unfortunately it seems to remain to work -some of its vengeance upon each of us. But do you think we ever had a -more charming voyage so far as this has run, Mrs. Crawford?” - -The lady became thoughtful. “That was a very nice trip in the P. & O.'s -_Turcoman_, when Mr. Carpingham of the Gunners proposed to Clara Walton -before he landed at Aden,” she said. “Curiously enough, I was thinking -about that very voyage just before you came up now. General Walton -had placed Clara in my care, and it was I who presented her to young -Carpingham.” There was a slight tone of triumph in her voice as she -recalled this victory of the past. - -“I remember well,” said Mr. Harwood. “How pleased every one was, and -also how--well, the weather was extremely warm in the Red Sea just -before he proposed. But I certainly think that this voyage is likely to -be quite as pleasant. By the way, what a charming protégée you have got -this time, Mrs. Crawford.” - -“She is a dear girl indeed, and I hope that she may find her father all -right at the Cape. Think of what she must suffer.” - -Mr. Harwood glanced round and saw that Mr. Glaston had strolled up to -Daireen's chair. “Yes, I have no doubt that she suffers,” he said. “But -she is so gentle, so natural in her thoughts and in her manner, I should -indeed be sorry that any trouble would come to her.” He was himself -speaking gently now--so gently, in fact, that Mrs. Crawford drew her -lips together with a slight pressure. “Perhaps it is because I am so -much older than she that she talks to me naturally as she would to her -father. I am old enough to be her father, I suppose,” he added almost -mournfully. But this only made the lady's lips become more compressed. -She had heard men talk before now of being old enough to be young -ladies' fathers, and she could also recollect instances of men who were -actually old enough to be young ladies' grandfathers marrying those very -young ladies. - -“Yes,” said Mrs. Crawford, “Daireen is a dear natural little thing.” - Into the paternal potentialities of Mr. Harwood's position towards this -dear natural little thing Mrs. Crawford did not think it judicious to go -just then. - -“She is a dear child,” he repeated. “By the way, we shall be at Funchal -at noon to-morrow, and we do not leave until the evening. You will land, -I suppose?” - -“I don't think I shall, I know every spot so well, and those bullock -sleighs are so tiresome. I am not so young as I was when I first made -their acquaintance.” - -“Oh, really, if that is your only plea, my dear Mrs. Crawford, we may -count on your being in our party.” - -“Our party!” said the lady. - -“I should not say that until I get your consent,” said Harwood quickly. -“Miss Gerald has never been at the island, you see, and she is girlishly -eager to go ashore. Miss Butler and her mother are also landing”--these -were other passengers--“and in a weak moment I volunteered my services -as guide. Don't you think you can trust me so far as to agree to be one -of us?” - -“Of course I can,” she said. “If Daireen wishes to go ashore you may -depend upon my keeping her company. But you will have to provide a -sleigh for myself.” - -“You may depend upon the sleigh, Mrs. Crawford; and many thanks for your -trusting to my guidance. Though I sleigh you yet you will trust me.” - -“Mr. Harwood, that is dreadful. I am afraid that Mrs. Butler will need -one of them also.” - -“The entire sleigh service shall be impressed if necessary,” said the -“special,” as he walked away. - -Mrs. Crawford felt that she had not done anything rash. Daireen would, -no doubt, be delighted with the day among the lovely heights of Madeira, -and if by some little thoughtfulness it would be possible to hit upon a -plan that should give over the guidance of some of the walking members -of the party to Mr. Glaston, surely the matter was worth pursuing. - -Mr. Glaston was just at this instant looking into, Daireen's face as he -talked to her. He invariably kept his eyes fixed upon the faces of -the young women to whom he was fond of talking. It did not argue any -earnestness on his part, Mrs. Crawford knew. He seemed now, however, -to be a little in earnest in what he was saying. But then Mrs. -Crawford reflected that the subjects upon which his discourse was most -impassioned were mostly those that other people would call trivial, -such as the effect produced upon the mind of man by seeing a grape-green -ribbon lying upon a pale amber cushion. “Every colour has got its soul,” - she once heard him say; “and though any one can appreciate its meaning -and the work it has to perform in the world, the subtle thoughts -breathed by the tones are too delicate to be understood except by a -few. Colour is language of the subtlest nature, and one can praise God -through that medium just as one can blaspheme through it.” He had said -this very earnestly at one time, she recollected, and as she now saw -Daireen laugh she thought it was not impossible that it might be at some -phrase of the same nature, the meaning of which her uncultured ear did -not at once catch, that Daireen had laughed. Daireen, at any rate, did -laugh in spite of his earnestness of visage. - -In a few moments Mr. Glaston came over to Mrs. Crawford, and now his -face wore an expression of sadness rather than of any other emotion. - -“My dear Mrs. Crawford, you surely cannot intend to give your consent -to that child's going ashore tomorrow. She tells me that that newspaper -fellow has drawn her into a promise to land with a party--actually a -party--and go round the place like a Cook's excursion.” - -“Oh, I hope we shall not be like that, Mr. Glaston,” said Mrs. Crawford. - -“But you have not given your consent?” - -“If Daireen would enjoy it I do not see how I could avoid. Mr. Harwood -was talking to me just now. He seems to think she will enjoy herself, as -she has never seen the island before. Will you not be one of our party?” - -“Oh, Mrs. Crawford, if you have got the least regard for me, do not -say that word party; it means everything that is popular; it suggests -unutterable horrors to me. No subsequent pleasure could balance the -agony I should endure going ashore. Will you not try and induce that -child to give up the idea? Tell her what dreadful taste it would be to -join a party--that it would most certainly destroy her perceptions of -beauty for months to come.” - -“I am very sorry I promised Mr. Harwood,” said the lady; “if going -ashore would do all of this it would certainly be better for Daireen to -remain aboard. But they will be taking in coals here,” she added, as the -sudden thought struck her. - -“She can shut herself in her cabin and neither see nor hear anything -offensive. Who but a newspaper man would think of suggesting to cultured -people the possibility of enjoyment in a party?” - -But the newspaper man had strolled up to the place beside Daireen, -which the aesthetic man had vacated. He knew something of the art of -strategical defence, this newspaper man, and he was well aware that as -he had got the promise of the major's wife, all the arguments that might -be advanced by any one else would not cause him to be defrauded of the -happiness of being by this girl's side in one of the loveliest spots of -the world. - -“I will find out what Daireen thinks,” said Mrs. Crawford, in reply to -Mr. Glaston; and just then she turned and saw the newspaper man beside -the girl. - -“Never mind him,” said Mr. Glaston; “tell the poor child that it is -impossible for her to go.” - -“I really cannot break my promise,” replied the lady. “We must be -resigned, it will only be for a few hours.” - -“This is the saddest thing I ever knew,” said Mr. Glaston. “She will -lose all the ideas she was getting--all through being of a party. Good -heavens, a party!” - -Mrs. Crawford could see that Mr. Glaston was annoyed at the presence of -Harwood by the side of the girl, and she smiled, for she was too old a -tactician not to be well aware of the value of a skeleton enemy. - -“How kind of you to say you would not mind my going ashore,” said -Daireen, walking up to her. “We shall enjoy ourselves I am sure, and Mr. -Harwood knows every spot to take us to. I was afraid that Mr. Glaston -might be talking to you as he was to me.” - -“Yes, he spoke to me, but of course, my dear, if you think you would -like to go ashore I shall not say anything but that I will be happy to -take care of you.” - -“You are all that is good,” said Mr. Harwood. This was very pretty, the -lady thought--very pretty indeed; but at the same time she was making up -her mind that if the gentleman before her had conceived it probable that -he should be left to exhibit any of the wonders of the island scenery -to the girl, separate from the companionship of the girl's temporary -guardian, he would certainly find out that he had reckoned without due -regard to other contingencies. - -Sadness was the only expression visible upon the face of Mr. Glaston for -the remainder of this day; but upon the following morning this aspect -had changed to one of contempt as he heard nearly all the cabin's -company talking with expectancy of the joys of a few hours ashore. It -was a great disappointment to him to observe the brightening of the face -of Daireen Gerald, as Mr. Harwood came to tell her that the land was in -sight. - -Daireen's face, however, did brighten. She went up to the ship's bridge, -and Mr. Harwood, laying one hand upon her shoulder, pointed out with the -other where upon the horizon lay a long, low, gray cloud. Mrs. Crawford -observing his action, and being well aware that the girl's range of -vision was not increased in the smallest degree by the touch of his -fingers upon her shoulder, made a resolution that she herself would -be the first to show Daireen the earliest view of St. Helena when they -should be approaching that island. - -But there lay that group of cloud, and onward the good steamer sped. -In the course of an hour the formless mass had assumed a well-defined -outline against the soft blue sky. Then a lovely white bird came about -the ship from the distance like a spirit from those Fortunate Islands. -In a short time a gleam of sunshine was seen reflected from the flat -surface of a cliff, and then the dark chasms upon the face of each of -the island-rocks of the Dezertas could be seen. But when these were -passed the long island of Madeira appeared gray and massive, and with -a white cloud clinging about its highest ridges. Onward still, and the -thin white thread of foam encircling the rocks was perceived. Then the -outline of the cliffs stood defined against the fainter background -of the island; but still all was gray and colourless. Not for long, -however, for the sunlight smote the clouds and broke their gray masses, -and then fell around the ridges, showing the green heights of vines -and slopes of sugar-canes. But it was not until the roll of the waves -against the cliff-faces was heard that the cloud-veil was lifted and -all the glad green beauty of the slope flashed up to the blue sky, and -thrilled all those who stood on the deck of the vessel. - -Along this lovely coast the vessel moved through the sparkling green -ripples. Not the faintest white fleck of cloud was now in the sky, and -the sunlight falling downwards upon the island, brought out every brown -rock of the coast in bold relief against the brilliant green of the -slope. So close to the shore the vessel passed, the nearer cliffs -appeared to glide away as the land in their shade was disclosed, and -this effect of soft motion was entrancing to all who experienced it. -Then the low headland with the island-rock crowned with a small pillared -building was reached and passed, and the lovely bay of Funchal came in -view. - -Daireen, who had lived among the sombre magnificence of the Irish -scenery, felt this soft dazzling green as something marvellously strange -and unexpected. Had not Mr. Glaston descended to his cabin at the -earliest expression of delight that was forced from the lips of some -young lady on the deck, he, would have been still more disappointed with -Daireen, for her face was shining with happiness. But Mr. Harwood found -more pleasure in watching her face than he did in gazing at the long -crescent slope of the bay, and at the white houses that peeped from -amongst the vines, or at the high convent of the hill. He did not speak -a word to the girl, but only watched her as she drank in everything of -beauty that passed before her. - -Then the Loo rock at the farther point of the bay was neared, and as -the engine slowed, the head of the steamer was brought round towards the -white town of Funchal, spread all about the beach where the huge -rollers were breaking. The tinkle of the engine-room telegraph brought a -wonderful silence over everything as the propeller ceased. The voice of -the captain giving orders about the lead line was heard distinctly, and -the passengers felt inclined to speak in whispers. Suddenly with a harsh -roar the great chain cable rushes out and the anchor drops into the -water. - -“This is the first stage of our voyage,” said Mr. Harwood. “Now, while I -select a boat, will you kindly get ready for landing? Oh, Mrs. Crawford, -you will be with us at once, I suppose?” - -“Without the loss of a moment,” said the lady, going down to the cabins -with Daireen. - -The various island authorities pushed off from the shore in their boats, -sitting under canvas awnings and looking unpleasantly like banditti. -Doctor Campion answered their kind inquiries regarding the health of the -passengers, for nothing could exceed the attentive courtesy shown by the -government in this respect. - -Then a young Scotchman, who had resolved to emulate Mr. Harwood's -example in taking a party ashore, began making a bargain by signs with -one of the boatmen, while his friends stood around. The major and the -doctor having plotted together to go up to pay a visit to an hotel, -pushed off in a government boat without acquainting any one with their -movements. But long before the Scotchman had succeeded in reducing -the prohibitory sum named by the man with whom he was treating for the -transit of the party ashore, Mr. Harwood had a boat waiting at the -rail for his friends, and Mrs. Butler and her daughter were in act to -descend, chatting with the “special” who was to be their guide. Another -party had already left for the shore, the young lady who had worn the -blue and pink appearing in a bonnet surrounded with resplendent flowers -and beads. But before the smiles of Mrs. Butler and Harwood had passed -away, Mrs. Crawford and Daireen had come on deck again, the former with -many apologies for her delay. - -Mr. Harwood ran down the sloping rail to assist the ladies into the -boat that rose and fell with every throb of the waves against the ship's -side. Mrs. Crawford followed him and was safely stowed in a place in the -stern. Then came Mrs. Butler and her daughter, and while Mr. Harwood was -handing them off the last step Daireen began to descend. But she had not -got farther down than to where a young sailor was kneeling to shift the -line of one of the fruit boats, when she stopped suddenly with a great -start that almost forced a cry from her. - -“For God's sake go on--give no sign if you don't wish to make me -wretched,” said the sailor in a whisper. - -“Come, Miss Gerald, we are waiting,” cried Harwood up the long rail. - -Daireen remained irresolute for a moment, then walked slowly down, and -allowed herself to be handed into the boat. - -“Surely you are not timid, Miss Gerald,” said Harwood as the boat pushed -off. - -“Timid?” said Daireen mechanically. - -“Yes, your hand was really trembling as I helped you down.” - -“No, no, I am not--not timid, only--I fear I shall not be very good -company to-day; I feel----” she looked back to the steamer and did not -finish her sentence. - -Mr. Harwood glanced at her for a moment, thinking if it really could -be possible that she was regretting the absence of Mr. Glaston. Mrs. -Crawford also looked at her and came to the conclusion that, at the last -moment, the girl was recalling the aesthetic instructions of the young -man who was doubtless sitting lonely in his cabin while she was bent on -enjoying herself with a “party.” - -But Daireen was only thinking how it was she had refrained from crying -out when she saw the face of that sailor on the rail, and when she heard -his voice; and it must be confessed that it was rather singular, taking -into account the fact that she had recognised in the features and voice -of that sailor the features and voice of Standish Macnamara. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - - Your visitation shall receive such thanks - - As fits... remembrance. - - ... Thus do we of wisdom and of reach, - - With windlasses and with assays of bias, - - By indirections find directions out. - - More matter with less art.--_Hamlet._ - - -|THE thin white silk thread of a moon was hanging in the blue twilight -over the darkened western slope of the island, and almost within the -horns of its crescent a planet was burning without the least tremulous -motion. The lights of the town were glimmering over the waters, and the -strange, wildly musical cries of the bullock-drivers were borne faintly -out to the steamer, mingling with the sound of the bell of St. Mary's on -the Mount. - -The vessel had just begun to move away from its anchorage, and Daireen -Gerald was standing on the deck far astern leaning over the bulwarks -looking back upon the island slope whose bright green had changed to -twilight purple. Not of the enjoyment of the day she had spent up among -the vines was the girl thinking; her memory fled back to the past days -spent beneath the shadow of a slope that was always purple, with a robe -of heather clinging to it from base to summit. - -“I hope you don't regret having taken my advice about going on shore, -Miss Gerald,” said Mr. Harwood, who had come beside her. - -“Oh, no,” she said; “it was all so lovely--so unlike what I ever saw or -imagined.” - -“It has always seemed lovely to me,” he said, “but to-day it was very -lovely. I had got some pleasant recollections of the island before, but -now the memories I shall retain will be the happiest of my life.” - -“Was to-day really so much pleasanter?” asked the girl quickly. “Then I -am indeed fortunate in my first visit. But you were not at any part of -the island that you had not seen before,” she added, after a moment's -pause. - -“No,” he said quietly. “But I saw all to-day under a new aspect.” - -“You had not visited it in September? Ah, I recollect now having heard -that this was the best month for Madeira. You see I am fortunate.” - -“Yes, you are--fortunate,” he said slowly. “You are fortunate; you are a -child; I am--a man.” - -Daireen was quite puzzled by his tone; it was one of sadness, and she -knew that he was not accustomed to be sad. He had not been so at any -time through the day when they were up among the vineyards looking down -upon the tiny ships in the harbour beneath them, or wandering through -the gardens surrounding the villa at which they had lunched after being -presented by their guide--no, he had certainly not displayed any sign of -sadness then. But here he was now beside her watching the lights of the -shore twinkling into dimness, and speaking in this way that puzzled her. - -“I don't know why, if you say you will have only pleasant recollections -of to-day, you should speak in a tone like that,” she said. - -“No, no, you would not understand it,” he replied. If she had kept -silence after he had spoken his previous sentence, he would have been -tempted to say to her what he had on his heart, but her question made -him hold back his words, for it proved to him what he told her--she -would not understand him. - -It is probable, however, that Mrs. Crawford, who by the merest accident, -of course, chanced to come from the cabin at this moment, would have -understood even the most enigmatical utterance that might pass from his -lips on the subject of his future memories of the day they had spent -on the island; she felt quite equal to the solution of any question of -psychological analysis that might arise. But she contented herself now -by calling Daireen's attention to the flashing of the phosphorescent -water at the base of the cliffs round which the vessel was moving, and -the observance of this phenomenon drew the girl's thoughts away from the -possibility of discovering the meaning of the man's words. The major and -his old comrade Doctor Campion then came near and expressed the greatest -anxiety to learn how their friends had passed the day. Both major and -doctor were in the happiest of moods. They had visited the hotel they -agreed in stating, and no one on the deck undertook to prove anything to -the contrary--no one, in fact, seemed to doubt in the least the truth of -what they said. - -In a short time Mrs. Crawford and Daireen were left alone; not for long, -however, for Mr. Glaston strolled languidly up. - -“I cannot say I hope you enjoyed yourself,” he said. “I know very well -you did not. I hope you could not.” - -Daireen laughed. “Your hopes are misplaced, I fear, Mr. Glaston,” she -answered. “We had a very happy day--had we not, Mrs. Crawford?” - -“I am afraid we had, dear.” - -“Why, Mr. Harwood said distinctly to me just now,” continued Daireen, -“that it was the pleasantest day he had ever passed upon the island.” - -“Ah, he said so? well, you see, he is a newspaper man, and they all look -at things from a popular standpoint; whatever is popular is right, is -their motto; while ours is, whatever is popular is wrong.” - -He felt himself speaking as the representative of a class, no doubt, -when he made use of the plural. - -“Yes; Mr. Harwood seemed even more pleased than we were,” continued the -girl. “He told me that the recollection of our exploration to-day would -be the--the--yes, the happiest of his life. He did indeed,” she added -almost triumphantly. - -“Did he?” said Mr. Glaston slowly. - -“My dear child,” cried Mrs. Crawford, quickly interposing, “he has got -that way of talking. He has, no doubt, said those very words to every -person he took ashore on his previous visits. He has, I know, said them -every evening for a fortnight in the Mediterranean.” - -“Then you don't think he means anything beyond a stupid compliment to -us? What a wretched thing it is to be a girl, after all. Never mind, I -enjoyed myself beyond any doubt.” - -“It is impossible--quite impossible, child,” said the young man. -“Enjoyment with a refined organisation such as yours can never be -anything that is not reflective--it is something that cannot be shared -with a number of persons. It is quite impossible that you could have -any feeling in common with such a mind as this Mr. Harwood's or with -the other people who went ashore. I heard nothing but expressions of -enjoyment, and I felt really sad to think that there was not a refined -soul among them all. They enjoyed themselves, therefore you did not.” - -“I think I can understand you,” said Mrs. Crawford at once, for she -feared that Daireen might attempt to question the point he insisted on. -Of course when the superior intellect of Mr. Glaston demonstrated that -they could not have enjoyed themselves, it was evident that it was their -own sensations which were deceiving them. Mrs. Crawford trusted to the -decision of the young man's intellect more implicitly than she did her -own senses: just as Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton Heath, came -to believe the practical jesters. - -“Should you enjoy the society and scenery of a desert island better -than an inhabited one?” asked the girl, somewhat rebellious at the -concessions of Mrs. Crawford. - -“Undoubtedly, if everything was in good taste,” he answered quietly. - -“That is, if everything was in accordance with your own taste,” came the -voice of Mr. Harwood, who, unseen, had rejoined the party. - -Mr. Glaston made no reply. He had previously become aware of the -unsatisfactory results of making any answers to such men as wrote for -newspapers. As he had always considered such men outside the world -of art in which he lived and to the inhabitants of which he addressed -himself, it was hardly to be expected that he would put himself on a -level of argument with them. In fact, Mr. Glaston rarely consented to -hold an argument with any one. If people maintained opinions different -from his own, it was so much the worse for those people--that was all he -felt. It was to a certain circle of young women in good society that -he preferred addressing himself, for he knew that to each individual -in that circle he appeared as the prophet and high priest of art. His -tone-poems in the college magazine, his impromptus--musical _aquarellen_ -he called them--performed in secret and out of hearing of any earthly -audience, his colour-harmonies, his statuesque idealisms--all these were -his priestly ministrations; while the interpretation, not of his -own works--this he never attempted--but of the works of three poets -belonging to what he called his school, of one painter, and of one -musical composer, was his prophetical service. - -It was obviously impossible that such a man could put himself on that -mental level which would be implied by his action should he consent -to make any answer to a person like Mr. Harwood. But apart from these -general grounds, Mr. Glaston had got concrete reasons for declining to -discuss any subject with this newspaper man. He knew that it was -Mr. Harwood who had called the tone-poems of the college magazine -alliterative conundrums for young ladies; that it was Mr. Harwood who -had termed one of the colour-harmonies a study in virulent jaundice; -that it was Mr. Harwood who had, after smiling on being told of the -_aquarellen_ impromptus, expressed a desire to hear one of these -compositions--all this Mr. Glaston knew well, and so when Mr. Harwood -made that remark about taste Mr. Glaston did not reply. - -Daireen, however, did not feel the silence oppressive. She kept her eyes -fixed upon that thin thread of moon that was now almost touching the -dark ridge of the island. - -Harwood looked at her for a few moments, and then he too leaned over the -side of the ship and gazed at that lovely moon and its burning star. - -“How curious,” he said gently--“how very curious, is it not, that the -sight of that hill and that moon should bring back to me memories of -Lough Suangorm and Slieve Docas?” - -The girl gave a start. “You are thinking of them too? I am so glad. It -makes me so happy to know that I am not the only one here who knows all -about Suangorm.” Suddenly another thought seemed to come to her. -She turned her eyes away from the island and glanced down the deck -anxiously. - -“No,” said Mr. Harwood very gently indeed; “you are not alone in your -memories of the loveliest spot of the world.” - -Mrs. Crawford thought it well to interpose. “My dear Daireen, you must -be careful not to take a chill now after all the unusual exercise you -have had during the day. Don't you think you had better go below?” - -“Yes, I had much better,” said the girl quickly and in a startled -tone; and she had actually gone to the door of the companion before -she recollected that she had not said good-night either to Glaston or -Harwood. She turned back and redeemed her negligence, and then went down -with her good guardian. - -“Poor child,” thought Mr. Glaston, “she fears that I am hurt by her -disregard of my advice about going ashore with those people. Poor child! -perhaps I was hard upon her!” - -“Poor little thing,” thought Mr. Harwood. “She begins to understand.” - -“It would never do to let that sort or thing go on,” thought Mrs. -Crawford, as she saw that Daireen got a cup of tea before retiring. -Mrs. Crawford fully appreciated Mr. Harwood's cleverness in reading the -girl's thought and so quickly adapting his speech to the requirements of -the moment; but she felt her own superiority of cleverness. - -Each of the three was a careful and experienced observer, but there are -certain conditional influences to be taken into account in arriving at a -correct conclusion as to the motives of speech or action of every human -subject under observation; and the reason that these careful analysts of -motives were so utterly astray in tracing to its source the remissness -of Miss Gerald, was probably because none of the three was aware of -the existence of an important factor necessary for the solution of the -interesting problem they had worked out so airily; this factor being the -sudden appearance of Standish Macnamara beside the girl in the morning, -and her consequent reflections upon the circumstance in the evening. - -But as she sat alone in her cabin, seeing through the port the effect -of the silver moonlight upon the ridge of the hill behind which the moon -itself had now sunk, she was wondering, as she had often wondered during -the day, if indeed it was Standish whom she had seen and whose voice she -had heard. All had been so sudden--so impossible, she thought, that -the sight of him and the hearing of his voice seemed to her but as the -memories of a dream of her home. - -But now that she was alone and capable of reflecting upon the matter, -she felt that she had not been deceived. By some means the young man to -whom she had written her last letter in Ireland was aboard the steamer. -It was very wonderful to the girl to reflect upon this; but then she -thought if he was aboard, why should she not be able to find him and ask -him all about himself? - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - - Providence - - Should have kept short, restrained, and out of haunt - - This mad young man... - - His very madness, like some ore - - Among a mineral of metals base, - - Shows itself pure. - - Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing - - To what I shall unfold. - - It is common for the younger sort - - To lack discretion. - - _Queen_.... Whereon do you look? - - _Hamlet_. On him, on him! look you, how pale he glares. - - ... It is not madness - - That I have uttered: bring me to the test.--_Hamlet_ - - -|THE question which suggested itself to Daireen as to the possibility of -seeing Standish aboard the steamer, was not the only one that occupied -her thoughts. How had he come aboard, and why had he come aboard, were -further questions whose solution puzzled her. She recollected how he -had told her on that last day she had seen him, while they walked in the -garden after leaving The Macnamara in that side room with the excellent -specimen of ancient furniture ranged with glass vessels, that he was -heartily tired of living among the ruins of the castle, and that he had -made up his mind to go out into the world of work. She had then begged -of him to take no action of so much importance until her father should -have returned to give him the advice he needed; and in that brief -postscript which she had added to the farewell letter given into the -care of the bard O'Brian, she had expressed her regret that this counsel -of hers had been rendered impracticable. Was it possible, however, that -Standish placed so much confidence in the likelihood of valuable advice -being given to him by her father that he had resolved to go out to the -Cape and speak with him on the subject face to face, she thought; but -it struck her that there would be something like an inconsistency in the -young man's travelling six thousand miles to take an opinion as to the -propriety of his leaving his home. - -What was she to do? She felt that she must see Standish and have from -his own lips an explanation of how he had come aboard the ship; but -in that, sentence he had spoken to her he had entreated of her to keep -silence, so that she dared not seek for him under the guidance of Mrs. -Crawford or any of her friends aboard the vessel. It would be necessary -for her to find him alone, and she knew that this would be a difficult -thing to do, situated as she was. But let the worst come, she reflected -that it could only result in the true position of Standish being-known. -This was really all that the girl believed could possibly be the result -if a secret interview between herself and a sailor aboard the steamer -should be discovered; and, thinking of the worst consequences so -lightly, made her all the more anxious to hasten on such an interview if -she could contrive it. - -She seated herself upon her little sofa and tried to think by what means -she could meet with Standish, and yet fulfil his entreaty for secrecy. -Her imagination, so far as inventing plans was concerned, did not seem -to be inexhaustible. After half an hour's pondering over the matter, no -more subtle device was suggested to her than going on deck and walking -alone towards the fore-part of the ship between the deck-house and the -bulwarks, where it might possibly chance that Standish would be found. -This was her plan, and she did not presume to think to herself that its -intricacy was the chief element of its possible success. Had she been -aware of the fact that Standish was at that instant standing in the -shadow of that deck-house looking anxiously astern in the hope of -catching a glimpse of her--had she known that since the steamer had left -the English port he had every evening stood with the same object in -the same place, she would have been more hopeful of her simple plan -succeeding. - -At any rate she stole out of her cabin and went up the companion and -out upon the deck, with all the caution that a novice in the art of -dissembling could bring to her aid. - -The night was full of softness--softness of gray reflected light from -the waters that were rippling along before the vessel--softness of air -that seemed saturated with the balm of odorous trees growing upon the -slopes of those Fortunate Islands. The deck was deserted by passengers; -only Major Crawford, the doctor, and the special correspondent were -sitting in a group in their cane chairs, smoking their cheroots and -discussing some action of a certain colonel that had not yet been fully -explained, though it had taken place fifteen years previously. The -group could not see her, she knew; but even if they had espied her and -demanded an explanation, she felt that she had progressed sufficiently -far in the crooked ways of deception to be able to lull their suspicions -by her answers. She could tell them that she had a headache, or put them -off with some equally artful excuse. - -She walked gently along until she was at the rear of the deck-house -where the stock of the mainmast was standing with all its gear. She -looked down the dark tunnel passage between the side of the house and -the bulwarks, but she felt her courage fail her: she dared do all that -might become a woman, but the gloom of that covered place, and the -consciousness that beyond it lay the mysterious fore-cabin space, caused -her to pause. What was she to do? - -Suddenly there came the sound of a low voice at her ear. - -“Daireen, Daireen, why did you come here?” She started and looked around -trembling, for it was the voice of Standish, though she could not see -the form of the speaker. It was some moments before she found that he -was under the broad rail leading to the ship's bridge. - -“Then it is you, Standish, indeed?” she said. “How on earth did you come -aboard?--Why have you come?--Are you really a sailor?--Where is your -father?--Does he know?--Why don't you shake hands with me, Standish?” - -These few questions she put to him in a breath, looking between the -steps of the rail. - -“Daireen, hush, for Heaven's sake!” he said anxiously. “You don't know -what you are doing in coming to speak with me here--I am only a sailor, -and if you were seen near me it would be terrible. Do go back to your -cabin and leave me to my wretchedness.” - -“I shall not go back,” she said resolutely. “I am your friend, Standish, -and why should I not speak to you for an hour if I wish? You are not the -quartermaster at the wheel. What a start you gave me this morning! Why -did you not tell me you were coming in this steamer?” - -“I did not leave Suangorm until the next morning after I heard you had -gone,” he answered in a whisper. “I should have died--I should indeed, -Daireen, if I had remained at home while you were gone away without any -one to take care of you.” - -“Oh, Standish, Standish, what will your father say?--What will he -think?” - -“I don't care,” said Standish. “I told him on that day when we returned -from Suanmara that I would go away. I was a fool that I did not make up -my mind long ago. It was, indeed, only when you left that I carried -out my resolution. I learned what ship you were going in; I had as much -money as brought me to England--I had heard of people working their -passage abroad; so I found out the captain of the steamer, and telling -him all about myself that I could--not of course breathing your name, -Daireen--I begged him to allow me to work my way as a sailor, and he -agreed to give me the passage. He wanted me to become a waiter in the -cabin, but I couldn't do that; I didn't mind facing all the hardships -that might come, so long as I was near you--and--able to get your -father's advice. Now do go back, Daireen.” - -“No one will see us,” said the girl, after a pause, in which she -reflected on the story he had told her. “But all is so strange, -Standish,” she continued--“all is so unlike anything I ever imagined -possible. Oh, Standish, it is too dreadful to think of your being a -sailor--just a sailor--aboard the ship.” - -“There's nothing so very bad in it,” he replied. “I can work, thank God; -and I mean to work. The thought of being near you--that is, near the -time when I can get the advice I want from your father--makes all my -labour seem light.” - -“But if I ask the captain, he will, I am sure, let you become a -passenger,” said the girl suddenly. “Do let me ask him, Standish. It is -so--so hard for you to have to work as a sailor.” - -“It is no harder than I expected it would be,” he said; “I am not afraid -to work hard: and I feel that I am doing something--I feel it. I should -be more wretched in the cabin. Now do not think of speaking to me for -the rest of the voyage, Daireen; only, do not forget that you have a -friend aboard the ship--a friend who will be willing to die for you.” - -His voice was very tremulous, and she could see his tearful eyes -glistening in the gray light as he put out one of his hands to her. -She put her own hand into it and felt his strong earnest grasp as he -whispered, “God bless you, Daireen! God bless you!” - -“Make it six bells, quartermaster,” came the voice of the officer on -watch from the bridge. In fear and trembling Daireen waited until the -man came aft and gave the six strokes upon the ship's bell that hung -quite near where she was standing--Standish thinking it prudent to -remain close in the shade of the rail. The quartermaster saw her, but -did not, of course, conceive it to be within the range of his duties -to give any thought to the circumstance of a passenger being on deck at -that hour. When the girl turned round after the bell had been struck, -she found that Standish had disappeared. All she could do was to hasten -back to her cabin with as much caution as it was possible for her to -preserve, for she could still hear the hoarse tones of the major's voice -coming from the centre of the group far astern, who were regaled with a -very pointed chronicle of a certain station in the empire of Hindustan. - -Daireen reached her cabin and sat once more upon her sofa, breathing a -sigh of relief, for she had never in her life had such a call upon her -courage as this to which she had just responded. - -Her face was flushed and hot, and her hands were trembling, so she threw -open the pane of the cabin port-hole and let the soft breeze enter. -It moved about her hair as she stood there, and she seemed to feel the -fingers of a dear friend caressing her forehead. Then she sat down once -more and thought over all that had happened since the morning when she -had gone on deck to see that gray cloud-land brighten into the lovely -green slope of Madeira. - -She thought of all that Standish had told her about himself, and she -felt her heart overflowing, as were her eyes, with sympathy for him who -had cast aside his old life and was endeavouring to enter upon the new. - -As she sat there in her dreaming mood all the days of the past came back -to her, with a clearness she had never before known. All the pleasant -hours returned to her with even a more intense happiness than she had -felt at first. For out of the distance of these Fortunate Islands the -ghosts of the blessed departed hours came and moved before her, looking -into her face with their own sweet pale faces; thus she passed from a -waking dream into a dream of sleep as she lay upon her sofa, and the -ghost shapes continued to float before her. The fatigue of the day, the -darkness of the cabin, and the monotonous washing of the ripples against -the side of the ship, had brought on her sleep before she had got into -her berth. - -With a sudden start she awoke and sprang to her feet in instantaneous -consciousness, for the monotony of the washing waves was broken by a -sound that was strange and startling to her ears--the sound of something -hard tapping at irregular intervals upon the side of the ship just at -her ear. - -She ran over to the cabin port and looked out fearfully--looked out and -gave a cry of terror, for beneath her--out from those gray waters there -glanced up to her in speechless agony the white face of a man; she -saw it but for a moment, then it seemed to be swept away from her and -swallowed up in the darkness of the deep waters. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - - ... Rashly, - - And praised be rashness for it.... - - Up from my cabin, - - My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark - - Groped I to find out them... making so bold, - - My fears forgetting manners. - - Give me leave: here lies the water; good: here stands the man; good. - - Let us know - - Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well - - ... and that should learn us - - There's a divinity that shapes our ends - - Rough-hew them how we will.--_Hamlet._ - - -|A SINGLE cry of terror was all that Daireen uttered as she fell back -upon her berth. An instant more and she was standing with white lips, -and hands that were untrembling as the rigid hand of a dead person. -She knew what was to be done as plainly as if she saw everything in a -picture. She rushed into the saloon and mounted the companion to the -deck. There sat the little group astern just as she had seen them an -hour before, only that the doctor had fallen asleep under the influence -of one of the less pointed of the major's stories. - -“God bless my soul!” cried the major, as the girl clutched the back of -his chair. - -“Good heavens, Miss Gerald, what is the matter?” said Harwood, leaping -to his feet. - -She pointed to the white wake of the ship. - -“There--there,” she whispered--“a man--drowning--clinging to -something--a wreck--I saw him!” - -“Dear me! dear me!” said the major, in a tone of relief, and with a -breath of a smile. - -But the special correspondent had looked into the girl's face. It was -his business to understand the difference between dreaming and waking. -He was by the side of the officer on watch in a moment. A few words were -enough to startle the officer into acquiescence with the demands of the -“special.” The unwonted sound of the engine-room telegraph was heard, -its tinkle shaking the slumbers of the chief engineer as effectively as -if it had been the thunder of an alarum peal. - -The stopping of the engine, the blowing off of the steam, and the -arrival of the captain upon the deck, were simultaneous occurrences. The -officer's reply to his chief as he hurried aft did not seem to be very -satisfactory, judging from the manner in which it was received. - -But Harwood had left the officer to explain the stoppage of the vessel, -and was now kneeling by the side of the chair, back upon which lay -the unconscious form of Daireen, while the doctor was forcing some -brandy--all that remained in the major's tumbler--between her lips, and -a young sailor--the one who had been at the rail in the morning--chafed -her pallid hand. The major was scanning the expanse of water by aid of -his pilot glass, and the quartermaster who had been steering went to the -line of the patent log to haul it in--his first duty at any time on the -stopping of the vessel, to prevent the line--the strain being taken off -it--fouling with the propeller. - -When the steamer is under weigh it is the work of two sailors to take -in the eighty fathoms of log-line, otherwise, however, the line is of -course quite slack; it was thus rather inexplicable to the quartermaster -to find much more resistance to his first haul than if the vessel were -going full speed ahead. - -“The darned thing's fouled already,” he murmured for his own -satisfaction. He could not take in a fathom, so great was the -resistance. - -“Hang it all, major,” said the captain, “isn't this too bad? Bringing -the ship to like this, and--ah, here they come! All the ship's company -will be aft in a minute.” - -“Rum, my boy, very rum,” muttered the sympathetic major. - -“What's the matter, captain?” said one voice. - -“Is there any danger?” asked a tremulous second. - -“If it's a collision or a leak, don't keep it from us, sir,” came a -stern contralto. For in various stages of toilet incompleteness the -passengers were crowding out of the cabin. - -But before the “unhappy master” could utter a word of reply, the sailor -had touched his cap and reported to the third mate: - -“Log-line fouled on wreck, sir.” - -“By gad!” shouted the major, who was twisting the log-line about, and -peering into the water. “By gad, the girl was right! The line has fouled -on some wreck, and there is a body made fast to it.” - -The captain gave just a single glance in the direction indicated. . - -“Stand by gig davits and lower away,” he shouted to the watch, who had -of course come aft. - -The men ran to where the boat was hanging, and loosened the lines. - -“Oh, Heaven preserve us! they are taking to the boats!” cried a female -passenger. - -“Don't be a fool, my good woman,” said Mrs. Crawford tartly. The major's -wife had come on deck in a most marvellous costume, and she was already -holding a sal-volatile bottle to Daireen's nose, having made a number of -inquiries of Mr. Harwood and the doctor. - -All the other passengers had crowded to the ship's side, and were -watching the men in the boat cutting at something which had been reached -at the end of the log-line. They could see the broken stump of a mast -and the cross-trees, but nothing further. - -“They have got it into the boat,” said the major, giving the result of -his observation through the binocular. - -“For Heaven's sake, ladies, go below!” cried the captain. But no one -moved. - -“If you don't want to see the ghastly corpse of a drowned man gnawed by -fishes for weeks maybe, you had better go down, ladies,” said the chief -officer. Still no one stirred. - -The major, who was an observer of nature, smiled and winked sagaciously -at the exasperated captain before he said: - -“Why should the ladies go down at all? it's a pleasant night, and begad, -sir, a group of nightcaps like this isn't to be got together more -than once in a lifetime.” Before the gallant officer had finished his -sentence the deck was cleared of women; but, of course, the luxury of -seeing a dead body lifted from the boat being too great to be missed, -the starboard cabin ports had many faces opposite them. - -The doctor left Daireen to the care of Mrs. Crawford, saying that she -would recover consciousness in a few minutes, and he hastened with a -kaross to the top of the boiler, where he had shouted to the men in the -boat to carry the body. - -The companion-rail having been lowered, it was an easy matter for the -four men to take the body on deck and to lay it upon the tiger-skin -before the doctor, who rubbed his hands--an expression which the seamen -interpreted as meaning satisfaction. - -“Gently, my men, raise his head--so--throw the light on his face. By -George, he doesn't seem to have suffered from the oysters; there's hope -for him yet.” - -And the compassionate surgeon began cutting the clothing from the limbs -of the body. - -“No, don't take the pieces away,” he said to one of the men; “let them -remain here Now dry his arms carefully, and we'll try and get some air -into his lungs, if they're not already past work.” - -But before the doctor had commenced his operations the ship's gig had -been hauled up once more to the davits, and the steamer was going ahead -at slow speed. - -“Keep her at slow until the dawn,” said the captain to the officer on -watch. “And let there be a good lookout; there may be others floating -upon the wreck. Call me if the doctor brings the body to life.” - -The captain did not think it necessary to view the body that had been -snatched from the deep. The captain was a compassionate man and full of -tender feeling; he was exceedingly glad that he had had it in his power -to pick up that body, even with the small probability there was of being -able to restore life to its frozen blood; but he would have been much -more grateful to Providence had it been so willed that it should have -been picked up without the necessity of stopping the engines of the -steamer for nearly a quarter of an hour. It was explained to him that -Miss Gerald had been the first to see the face of the man upon the -wreck, but he could scarcely understand how it was possible for her to -have seen it from her cabin. He was also puzzled to know how it was that -the log-line had not been carried away so soon as it was entangled in -such a large mass of wreck when the steamer was going at full speed. -He, however, thought it as well to resume his broken slumbers without -waiting to solve either of these puzzling questions. - -But the chief officer who was now on watch, when the deck was once more -deserted--Daireen having been taken down to her cabin--made the attempt -to account for both of these occurrences. He found that the girl's cabin -was not far astern of the companion-rail that had been lowered during -the day, and he saw that, in the confusion of weighing anchor in the -dimness, a large block with its gear which was used in the hauling of -the vegetable baskets aboard, had been allowed to hang down the side of -the ship between the steps of the rail; and upon the hook of the block, -almost touching the water, he found some broken cordage. He knew then -that the hook had caught fast in the cordage of the wreck as the steamer -went past, and the wreck had swung round until it was just opposite the -girl's cabin, when the cordage had given way; not, however, until some -of the motion of the ship had been communicated to the wreck so that -there was no abrupt strain put on the log-line when it had become -entangled. It was all plain to the chief officer, as no doubt it would -have been to the captain had he waited to search out the matter. - -So soon as the body had been brought aboard the ship all the interest of -the passengers seemed to subside, and the doctor was allowed to pursue -his experiments of resuscitation without inquiry. The chief officer -being engaged at his own business of working out the question of the -endurance of the log-line, and keeping a careful lookout for any other -portions of wreck, had almost forgotten that the doctor and two of the -sailors were applying a series of restoratives to the body of the man -who had been detached from the wreck. It was nearly two hours after he -had come on watch that one of the sailors--the one who had been kneeling -by the side of Daireen--came up to the chief officer presenting Doctor -Campion's compliments, with the information that the man was breathing. - -In accordance with the captain's instructions, the chief officer knocked -at the cabin door and repeated the message. - -“Breathing is he?” said the captain rather sleepily. “Very good, Mr. -Holden; I'm glad to hear it. Just call me again in case he should -relapse.” - -The captain had hitherto, in alluding to the man, made use of the neuter -pronoun, but now that breath was restored he acknowledged his right to a -gender. - -“Very good, sir,” replied the officer, closing the door. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - - Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd, - - Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, - - Be thy intents wicked or charitable, - - Thou com'st in such a questionable shape. - - What may this mean - - That thou, dead corse, again... - - Revisit'st thus...? - - I hope your virtues - - Will bring him to his wonted way again.--_Hamlet._ - - -|IT was the general opinion in the cabin that Miss Gerald--the young -lady who was in such an exclusive set--had shown very doubtful taste in -being the first to discover the man upon the wreck. Every one had, -of course, heard the particulars of the matter from the steward's -assistants, who had in turn been in communication with the watch on -deck. At any rate, it was felt by the ladies that it showed exceedingly -bad taste in Miss Gerald to take such steps as eventually led to the -ladies appearing on deck in incomplete toilettes. There was, indeed, a -very pronounced feeling against Miss Gerald; several representatives of -the other sections of the cabin society declaring that they could not -conscientiously admit Miss Gerald into their intimacy. That dreadful -designing old woman, the major's wife, might do as she pleased, they -declared, and so might Mrs. Butler and her daughter, who were only the -near relatives of some Colonial Governor, but such precedents should -be by no means followed, the ladies of this section announced to each -other. But as Daireen had never hitherto found it necessary to fall back -upon any of the passengers outside her own set, the resolution of the -others, even if it had come to her ears, would not have caused her any -great despondency. - -The captain made some inquiries of the doctor in the morning, and -learned that the rescued man was breathing, though still unconscious. -Mr. Harwood showed even a greater anxiety to hear from Mrs. Crawford -about Daireen, after the terrible night she had gone through, and he -felt no doubt proportionately happy when he was told that she was now -sleeping, having passed some hours in feverish excitement. Daireen had -described to Mrs. Crawford how she had seen the face looking up to her -from the water, and Mr. Harwood, hearing this, and making a careful -examination of the outside of the ship in the neighbourhood of Daireen's -cabin, came to the same conclusion as that at which the chief officer -had arrived. - -Mrs. Crawford tried to make Mr. Glaston equally interested in her -protégée, but she was scarcely successful. - -“How brave it was in the dear child, was it not, Mr. Glaston?” she -asked. “Just imagine her glancing casually out of the port--thinking, it -maybe, of her father, who is perhaps dying at the Cape”--the good -lady felt that this bit of poetical pathos might work wonders with Mr. -Glaston--“and then,” she continued, “fancy her seeing that terrible, -ghastly thing in the water beneath her! What must her feelings have been -as she rushed on deck and gave the alarm that caused that poor wretch to -be saved! Wonderful, is it not?” - -But Mr. Glaston's face was quite devoid of expression on hearing this -powerful narrative. The introduction of the pathos even did not make him -wince; and there was a considerable pause before he said the few words -that he did. - -“Poor child,” he murmured. “Poor child. It was very -melodramatic--terribly melodramatic; but she is still young, her taste -is--ah--plastic. At least I hope so.” - -Mrs. Crawford began to feel that, after all, it was something to have -gained this expression of hope from Mr. Glaston, though her warmth of -feeling did undoubtedly receive a chill from his manner. She did not -reflect that there is a certain etiquette to be observed in the saving -of the bodies as well as the souls of people, and that the aesthetic -element, in the opinion of some people, should enter largely into every -scheme of salvation, corporeal as well as spiritual. - -The doctor was sitting with Major Crawford when the lady joined them a -few minutes after her conversation with Mr. Glaston, and never had Mrs. -Crawford fancied that her husband's old friend could talk in such an -affectionate way as he now did about the rescued man. She could almost -bring herself to believe that she saw the tears of emotion in his eyes -as he detailed the circumstances of the man's resuscitation. The doctor -felt personally obliged to him for his handsome behaviour in bearing -such testimony to the skill of his resuscitator. - -When the lady spoke of the possibilities of a relapse, the doctor's -eyes glistened at first, but under the influence of maturer thought, -he sighed and shook his head. No, he knew that there are limits to the -generosity of even a half-strangled man--a relapse was too much to hope -for; but the doctor felt at that instant that if this “case” should -see its way to a relapse, and subsequently to submit to be restored, it -would place itself under a lasting obligation to its physician. - -Surely, thought Mrs. Crawford, when the doctor talks of the stranger -with such enthusiasm he will go into raptures about Daireen; so she -quietly alluded to the girl's achievement. But the doctor could see no -reason for becoming ecstatic about Miss Gerald. Five minutes with the -smelling-bottle had restored her to consciousness. - -“Quite a trifle--overstrung nerves, you know,” he said, as he lit -another cheroot. - -“But think of her bravery in keeping strong until she had told you all -that she had seen!” said the lady. “I never heard of anything so -brave! Just fancy her looking out of the port--thinking of her father -perhaps”--the lady went on to the end of that pathetic sentence of hers, -but it had no effect upon the doctor. - -“True, very true!” he muttered, looking at his watch. - -But the major was secretly convulsed for some moments after his wife had -spoken her choice piece of pathos, and though he did not betray himself, -she knew well all that was in his mind, and so turned away without a -further word. So soon as she was out of hearing, the major exchanged -confidential chuckles with his old comrade. - -“He is not what you'd call a handsome man as he lies at present, -Campion,” remarked Mr. Harwood, strolling up later in the day. “But you -did well not to send him to the forecastle, I think; he has not been a -sailor.” - -“I know it, my boy,” said the doctor. “He is not a handsome man, you -say, and I agree with you that he is not seen to advantage just now; -but I made up my mind an hour after I saw him that he was not for the -forecastle, or even the forecabin.” - -“I dare say you are right,” said Harwood. “Yes; there is a something in -his look that half drowning could not kill. That was the sort of thing -you felt, eh?” - -“Nothing like it,” said the mild physician. “It was this,” he took out -of his pocket an envelope, from which he extracted a document that he -handed to Harwood. - -It was an order for four hundred pounds, payable by a certain bank in -England, and granted by the Sydney branch of the Australasian Banking -Company to one Mr. Oswin Markham. - -“Ah, I see; he is a gentleman,” said Harwood, returning the order. It -had evidently suffered a sea-change, but it had been carefully dried by -the doctor. - -“Yes, he is a gentleman,” said the doctor. “That is what I remarked when -I found this in a flask in one of his pockets. Sharp thing to do, -to keep a paper free from damp and yet to have it in a buoyant case. -Devilish sharp thing!” - -“And the man's name is this--Oswin Markham?” said the major. - -“No doubt about it,” said the doctor. - -“None whatever; unless he stole the order from the rightful owner, and -meant to get it cashed at his leisure,” remarked Harwood. - -“Then he must have stolen the shirt, the collar, and the socks of Oswin -Markham,” snarled the doctor. “All these things of his are marked as -plain as red silk can do it.” - -“Any man who would steal an order for four hundred pounds would not -hesitate about a few toilet necessaries.” - -“Maybe you'll suggest to the skipper the need to put him in irons as -soon as he is sufficiently recovered to be conscious of an insult,” - cried the doctor in an acrid way that received a sympathetic chuckle -from the major. “Young man, you've got your brain too full of fancies--a -devilish deal, sir; they do well enough retailed for the readers of the -_Dominant Trumpeter_, but sensible people don't want to hear them.” - -“Then I won't force them upon you and Crawford, my dear Campion,” said -Harwood, walking away, for he knew that upon some occasions the doctor -should be conciliated, and in the matter of a patient every allowance -should be made for his warmth of feeling. So long as one of his “cases” - paid his skill the compliment of surviving any danger, he spoke well of -the patient; but when one behaved so unhandsomely as to die, it was with -the doctor _De mortuis nil nisi malum_. Harwood knew this, and so he -walked away. - -And now that he found himself--or rather made himself--alone, he thought -over all the events of the previous eventful day; but somehow there did -not seem to be any event worth remembering that was not associated with -Daireen Gerald. He recollected how he had watched her when they had been -together among the lovely gardens of the island slope. As she turned her -eyes seaward with an earnest, sad, _questioning_ gaze, he felt that he -had never seen a picture so full of beauty. - -The words he had spoken to her, telling her that the day he had spent on -the island was the happiest of his life, were true indeed; he had -never felt so happy; and now as he reflected upon his after-words his -conscience smote him for having pretended to her that he was thinking of -the place where he knew her thoughts had carried her: he had seen from -her face that she was dreaming about her Irish home, and he had made her -feel that the recollection of the lough and the mountains was upon his -mind also. He felt now how coarse had been his deception. - -He then recalled the final scene of the night, when, as he was trying -to pursue his own course of thought, and at the same time pretend to be -listening to the major's thrice-told tale of a certain colonel's conduct -at the Arradambad station, the girl had appeared before them like a -vision. Yes, it was altogether a remarkable day even for a special -correspondent. The reflection upon its events made him very thoughtful -during the entire of this afternoon. Nor was he at all disturbed by the -information Doctor Campion brought vo him just when he was going for his -usual smoke upon the bridge, while the shore of Palma was yet in view -not far astern. - -“Good fellow he is,” murmured the doctor. “Capital fellow! opened his -eyes just now when I was in his cabin--recovered consciousness in a -moment.” - -“Ah, in a moment?” said Harwood dubiously. “I thought it always needed -the existence of some link of consciousness between the past and -the present to bring about a restoration like this--some familiar -sight--some well-known sound.” - -“And, by George, you are right, my boy, this time, though you are a -'special,'” said the doctor, grinning. “Yes, I was standing by the -fellow's bunk when I heard Crawford call for another bottle of soda. -Robinson got it for him, and bang went the cork, of course; a faint -smile stole over the haggard features, my boy, the glassy eyes opened -full of intelligence and with a mine of pleasant recollections. That -familiar sound of the popping of the cork acted as the link you talk of. -He saw all in a moment, and tried to put out his hand to me. 'My boy,' -I said, 'you've behaved most handsomely, and I'll get you a glass of -brandy out of another bottle, but don't you try to speak for another -day.' And I got him a glass from Crawford, though, by George, sir, -Crawford grudged it; he didn't see the sentiment of the thing, sir, and -when I tried to explain it, he said I was welcome to the cork.” - -“Capital tale for an advertisement of the brandy,” said Harwood. - -Then the doctor with many smiles hastened to spread abroad the story -of the considerate behaviour of his patient, and Harwood was left to -continue his twilight meditations alone once more. He was sitting in -his deck-chair on the ship's bridge, and he could but dimly hear the -laughter and the chat of the passengers far astern. He did not remain -for long in this dreamy mood of his, for Mrs. Crawford and Daireen -Gerald were seen coming up the rail, and he hastened to meet them. The -girl was very pale but smiling, and in the soft twilight she seemed very -lovely. - -“I am so glad to see you,” he said, as he settled a chair for her. “I -feared a great many things when you did not appear to-day.” - -“We must not talk too much,” said Mrs. Crawford, who had not expected to -find Mr. Harwood alone in this place. “I brought Miss Gerard up here in -order that she might not be subjected to the gaze of those colonists -on the deck; a little quiet is what she needs to restore her completely -from her shock.” - -“It was very foolish, I am afraid you think--very foolish of me to -behave as I did,” said Daireen, with a faint little smile. “But I had -been asleep in my cabin, and I--I was not so strong as I should have -been. The next time I hope I shall not be so very stupid.” - -“My dear Miss Gerald,” said Harwood, “you behaved as a heroine. There -is no woman aboard the ship--Mrs. Crawford of course excepted--who would -have had courage to do what you did.” - -“And he,” said the girl somewhat eagerly--“he--is he really safe?--has -he recovered? Tell me all, Mr. Harwood.” - -“No, no!” cried Mrs. Crawford, interposing. “You must not speak a word -about him. Do you want to be thrown into a fresh state of excitement, my -dear, now that you are getting on so nicely?” - -“But I am more excited remaining as I am in doubt about that poor man. -Was he a sailor, Mr. Harwood?” - -“It appears-not,” said Harwood. “The doctor, however, is returning; he -will tell all that is safe to be told.” - -“I really must protest,” said Mrs. Crawford. “Well, I will be a good -girl and not ask for any information whatever,” said Daireen. - -But she was not destined to remain in complete ignorance on the subject -which might reasonably be expected to interest her, for the doctor on -seeing her hastened up, and, of course, Mrs. Crawford's protest was weak -against his judgment. - -“My dear young lady,” he cried, shaking Daireen warmly by the hand. “You -are anxious to know the sequel of the romance of last night, I am sure?” - -“No, no, Doctor Campion,” said Daireen almost mischievously; “Mrs. -Crawford says I must hear nothing, and think about nothing, all this -evening. Did you not say so, Mrs. Crawford?” - -“My dear child, Doctor Campion is supposed to know much better than -myself how you should be treated in your present nervous condition. -If he chooses to talk to you for an hour or two hours about drowning -wretches, he may do so on his own responsibility.” - -“Drowning wretches!” said the doctor. “My dear madam, you have not been -told all, or you would not talk in this way. He is no drowning wretch, -but a gentleman; look at this--ah, I forgot it's not light enough for -you to see the document, but Harwood there will tell you all that it -contains.” - -“And what does that wonderful document contain, Mr. Harwood?” asked Mrs. -Crawford. “Tell us, please, and we shall drop the subject.” - -“That document,” said Harwood, with affected solemnity; “it is a -guarantee of the respectability of the possessor; it is a bank order -for four hundred pounds, payable to one Oswin Markham, and it was, -I understand, found upon the person of the man who has just been -resuscitated through the skill of our good friend Doctor Campion.” - -“Now you will not call him a poor wretch, I am sure,” said the doctor. -“He has now fully recovered consciousness, and, you see, he is a -gentleman.” - -“You see that, no doubt, Mrs. Crawford,” said Harwood, in a tone that -made the good physician long to have him for a few weeks on the sick -list--the way the doctor had of paying off old scores. - -“Don't be sarcastic, Mr. Harwood,” said Daireen. Then she added, “What -did you say the name was?--Oswin Markham? I like it--I like it very -much.” - -“Hush,” said Mrs. Crawford. “Here is Mr. Glaston.” And it was indeed Mr. -Glaston who ascended the rail with a languor of motion in keeping with -the hour of twilight. With a few muttered words the doctor walked away. - -“I hear,” said Mr. Glaston, after he had shaken hands with Daireen--“I -hear that there was some wreck or other picked up last night with a man -clinging to it--a dreadfully vulgar fellow he must be to carry about -with him a lot of money--a man with a name like what one would find -attached to the hero of an East End melodrama.” - -There was a rather lengthened silence in that little group before -Harwood spoke. - -“Yes,” he said; “it struck me that it showed very questionable taste in -the man to go about flaunting his money in the face of every one he met. -As for his name--well, perhaps we had better not say anything about his -name. You recollect what Tennyson makes Sir Tristram say to his Isolt--I -don't mean you, Glaston, I know you only read the pre-Raphaelites-- - -“Let be thy Mark, seeing he is not thine.” - -But no one seemed to remember the quotation, or, at any rate, to see the -happiness of its present application. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - - It beckons you to go away with it, - - As if it some impartment did desire - - To you alone. - - ... Weigh what loss - - If with too credent ear you list his songs - - Or lose your heart... - - Fear it, Ophelia, fear it.--_Hamlet._ - - -|IT could hardly be expected that there should be in the mind of Daireen -Gerald a total absence of interest in the man who by her aid had been -rescued from the deep. To be sure, her friend Mrs. Crawford had given -her to understand that people of taste might pronounce the episode -melodramatic, and as this word sounded very terrible to Daireen, as, -indeed, it did to Mrs. Crawford herself, whose apprehension of its -meaning was about as vague as the girl's, she never betrayed the anxiety -she felt for the recovery of this man, who was, she thought, equally -accountable for the dubious taste displayed in the circumstances of -his rescue. She began to feel, as Mr. Glaston in his delicacy carefully -refrained from alluding to this night of terror, and as Mrs. Crawford -assumed a solemn expression of countenance upon the least reference -to the girl's participation in the recovery of the man with the -melodramatic name, that there was a certain bond of sympathy between -herself and this Oswin Markham; and now and again when she found the -doctor alone, she ventured to make some inquiries regarding him. In the -course of a few days she learned a good deal. - -“He is behaving handsomely--most handsomely, my dear,” said the doctor, -one afternoon about a week after the occurrence. “He eats everything -that is given to him and drinks in a like proportion.” - -The girl felt that this was truly noble on the part of the man, but it -was scarcely the exact type of information she would have liked. - -“And he--is he able to speak yet?” she asked. - -“Speak? yes, to be sure. He asked me how he came to be picked up, and -I told him,” continued the doctor, with a smile of gallantry of which -Daireen did not believe him capable, “that he was seen by the most -charming young lady in the world,--yes, yes, I told him that, though -I ran a chance of retarding his recovery by doing so.” This was, of -course, quite delightful to hear, but Daireen wanted to know even more -about the stranger than the doctor's speech had conveyed to her. - -“The poor fellow was a long time in the water, I suppose?” she said -artfully, trying to find out all that the doctor had learned. - -“He was four days upon that piece of wreck,” said the doctor. - -The girl gave a start that seemed very like a shudder, as she repeated -the words, “Four days.” - -“Yes; he was on his way home from Australia, where he had been -living for some years, and the vessel he was in was commanded by some -incompetent and drunken idiot who allowed it to be struck by a tornado -of no extraordinary violence, and to founder in mid-ocean. As our friend -was a passenger, he says, the crew did not think it necessary to invite -him to have a seat in one of the boats, a fact that accounts for his -being alive to-day, for both boats were swamped and every soul sent to -the bottom in his view. He tells me he managed to lash a broken topmast -to the stump of the mainmast that had gone by the board, and to cut the -rigging so that he was left drifting when the hull went down. That's all -the story, my dear, only we know what a hard time of it he must have had -during the four days.” - -“A hard time--a hard time,” Daireen repeated musingly, and without a -further word she turned away. - -Mr. Glaston, who had been pleased to take a merciful view of her recent -action of so pronounced a type, found that his gracious attempts to -reform her plastic taste did not, during this evening, meet with that -appreciation of which they were undoubtedly deserving. Had he been aware -that all the time his eloquent speech was flowing on the subject of -the consciousness of hues--a theme attractive on account of its -delicacy--the girl had before her eyes only a vision of heavy blue skies -overhanging dark green seas terrible in loneliness--the monotony of -endless waves broken only by the appearance in the centre of the waste -of a broken mast and a ghastly face and clinging lean hands upon it, -he would probably have withdrawn the concession he had made to Mrs. -Crawford regarding the taste of her protégée. - -And indeed, Daireen was not during any of these days thinking about much -besides this Oswin Markham, though she never mentioned his name even -to the doctor. At nights when she would look out over the flashing -phosphorescent waters, she would evermore seem to see that white face -looking up at her; but now she neither started nor shuddered as she was -used to do for a few nights after she had seen the real face there. It -seemed to her now as a face that she knew--the face of a friend looking -into her face from the dim uncertain surface of the sea of a dream. - -One morning a few days after her most interesting chat with Doctor -Campion, she got up even earlier than usual--before, in fact, the -healthy pedestrian gentleman had completed his first mile, and went on -deck. She had, however, just stepped out of the companion when she heard -voices and a laugh or two coming from the stern. She glanced in the -direction of the sounds and remained motionless at the cabin door. -A group consisting of the major, the doctor, and the captain of the -steamer were standing in the neighbourhood of the wheel; but upon a -deck-chair, amongst a heap of cushions, a stranger was lying back--a -man with a thin brown face and large, somewhat sunken eyes, and a short -brown beard and moustache; he was holding a cigar in the fingers of -his left hand that drooped over the arm of the chair--a long, white -hand--and he was looking up to the face of the major, who was telling -one of his usual stories with his accustomed power. None of the other -passengers were on deck, with the exception of the pedestrian, who came -into view every few minutes as he reached the after part of the ship. - -She stood there at the door of the companion without any motion, looking -at that haggard face of the stranger. She saw a faint smile light up his -deep eyes and pass over his features as the major brought out the full -piquancy of his little anecdote, which was certainly not _virginibus -puerisque_. Then she turned and went down again to her cabin without -seeing how a young sailor was standing gazing at her from the passage -of the ship's bridge. She sat down in her cabin and waited until the -ringing of the second bell for breakfast. - -“You are getting dreadfully lazy, my dear,” said Mrs. Crawford, as she -took her seat by the girl's side. “Why were you not up as usual to get -an appetite for breakfast?” Then without waiting for an answer, she -whispered, “Do you see the stranger at the other side of the table? That -is our friend Mr. Oswin Markham; his name does not sound so queer when -you come to know him. The doctor was right, Daireen: he is a gentleman.” - -“Then you have----” - -“Yes, I have made his acquaintance this morning already. I hope Mr. -Glaston may not think that it was my fault.” - -“Mr. Glaston?” said Daireen. . - -“Yes; you know he is so sensitive in matters like this; he might -fancy that it would be better to leave this stranger by himself; but -considering that he will be parting from the ship in a week, I don't -think I was wrong to let my husband present me. At any rate he is a -gentleman--that is one satisfaction.” - -Daireen felt that there was every reason to be glad that she was not -placed in the unhappy position of having taken steps for the rescue of a -person not accustomed to mix in good society. But she did not even once -glance down towards the man whose standing had been by a competent judge -pronounced satisfactory. She herself talked so little, however, that she -could hear him speak in answer to the questions some good-natured people -at the bottom of the table put to him, regarding the name of his ship -and the circumstances of the catastrophe that had come upon it. She also -heard the young lady who had the peculiar fancy for blue and pink beg of -him to do her the favour of writing his name in her birthday book. - -During the hours that elapsed before tiffin Daireen sat with a novel in -her hand, and she knew that the stranger was on the ship's bridge with -Major Crawford. The major found his company exceedingly agreeable, for -the old officer had unfortunately been prodigal of his stories through -the first week of the voyage, and lately he had been reminded that he -was repeating himself when he had begun a really choice anecdote. This -Mr. Markham, however, had never been in India, so that the major found -in him an appreciative audience, and for the satisfactory narration of -a chronicle of Hindustan an appreciative audience is an important -consideration. The major, however, appeared alone at tiffin, for Mr. -Markham, he said, preferred lying in the sun on the bridge to eating -salad in the cabin. The young lady with the birthday book seemed a -little disappointed, for she had just taken the bold step of adding to -her personal decorations a large artificial moss-rose with glass beads -sewed all about it in marvellous similitude to early dew, and it would -not bear being trifled with in the matter of detaching from her dress. - -Whether or not Mrs. Crawford had conferred with Mr. Glaston on the -subject of the isolation of Mr. Markham, Daireen, on coming to sit down -to the dinner-table, found Mrs. Crawford and Mr. Markham standing in -the saloon just at the entrance to her cabin. She could feel herself -flushing as she looked up to the man's haggard face while Mrs. Crawford -pronounced their names, and she knew that the hand she put in his thin -fingers was trembling. Neither spoke a single word: they only looked at -each other. Then the doctor came forward with some remark that Daireen -did not seem to hear, and soon the table was surrounded with the -passengers. - -“He says he feels nearly as strong as he ever did,” whispered Mrs. -Crawford to the girl as they sat down together. “He will be able to -leave us at St. Helena next week without doubt.” - -On the same evening Daireen was sitting in her usual place far astern. -The sun had set some time, and the latitude being only a few degrees -south of the equator, the darkness had already almost come down upon -the waters. It was dimmer than twilight, but not the solid darkness of -a tropical night. The groups of passengers had all dispersed or gone -forward, and the only sounds were the whisperings of the water in the -wake of the steamer, and the splashing of the flying fish. - -Suddenly from the cabin there came the music of the piano, and a low -voice singing to its accompaniment--so faint it came that Daireen knew -no one on deck except herself could hear the voice, for she was sitting -just beside the open fanlight of the saloon; but she heard every word -that was sung: - - -I. - - - When the vesper gold has waned: - - When the passion-hues of eve - - Breathe themselves away and leave - - Blue the heaven their crimson stained, - - But one hour the world doth grieve, - - For the shadowy skies receive - - Stars so gracious-sweet that they - - Make night more beloved than day. - - -II - - - From my life the light has waned: - - Every golden gleam that shone - - Through the dimness now las 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?” - - -|IT ended so faintly that Daireen Gerald could not tell when the last -note had come. She felt that she was in a dream and the sounds she had -heard were but a part of her dream--sounds? were these sounds, or -merely the effect of breathing the lovely shadowy light that swathed the -waters? The sounds seemed to her the twilight expressed in music. - -Then in the silence she heard a voice speaking her name. She turned and -saw Oswin Markham standing beside her. - -“Miss Gerald,” he said, “I owe my life to you. I thank you for it.” - -He could hardly have expressed himself more simply if he had been -thanking her for passing him a fig at dinner, and yet his words thrilled -her. - -“No, no; do not say that,” she said, in a startled voice. “I did -nothing--nothing that any one else might not have done. Oh, do not talk -of it, please.” - -“I will not,” he said slowly, after a pause. “I will never talk of -it again. I was a fool to speak of it to you. I know now that you -understand--that there is no need for me to open my lips to you.” - -“I do indeed,” she said, turning her eyes upon his face. “I do -understand.” She put out her hand, and he took it in his own--not -fervently, not with the least expression of emotion, his fingers closed -over it. A long time passed before she saw his face in front of her own, -and felt his eyes looking into her eyes as his words came in a whisper, -“Child--child, there is a bond between us--a bond whose token is -silence.” - -She kept her eyes fixed upon his as he spoke, and long after his words -had come. She knew he had spoken the truth: there was a bond between -them. She understood it. - -She saw the gaunt face with its large eyes close to her own; her -own eyes filled with tears, and then came the first token of their -bond--silence. She felt his grasp unloosed, she heard him moving away, -and she knew that she was alone in the silence. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - - Give him heedful note; - - For I mine eyes will rivet to his face, - - And after we will both our judgments join. - - Thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart: but it is no -matter. - - You must needs have heard, how I am punish'd - - With sore distraction. What I have done - - I here proclaim was madness.--_Hamlet._ - - -|IT was very generally thought that it was a fortunate circumstance -for Mr. Oswin Markham that there chanced to be in the fore-cabin of -the steamer an enterprising American speculator who was taking out -some hundred dozens of ready-made garments for disposal to the diamond -miners--and an equal quantity of less durable clothing, in which he had -been induced to invest some money with a view to the ultimate adoption -of clothing by the Kafir nation. He explained how he had secured the -services of a hard-working missionary whom he had sent as agent in -advance to endeavour to convince the natives that if they ever wished -to gain a footing among great nations, the auxiliary of clothing towards -the effecting of their object was worth taking into consideration. When -the market for these garments would thus be created, the speculator -hoped to arrive on the scene and make a tolerable sum of money. In rear -of his missionary, he had scoured most of the islands of the Pacific -with very satisfactory results; and he said he felt that, if he could -but prevail upon his missionary in advance to keep steady, a large work -of evangelisation could be done in South Africa. - -By the aid of this enterprising person, Mr. Markham was able to clothe -himself without borrowing from any of the passengers. But about the -payment for his purchases there seemed likely to be some difficulty. The -bank order for four hundred pounds was once again in the possession of -Mr. Markham, but it was payable in England, and how then could he effect -the transfer of the few pounds he owed the American speculator, when he -was to leave the vessel at St. Helena? There was no agency of the bank -at this island, though there was one at the Cape, and thus the question -of payment became somewhat difficult to solve. - -“Do you want to leave the craft at St. Helena, mister?” asked the -American, stroking his chin thoughtfully. - -“I do,” said Mr. Markham. “I must leave at the island and take the first -ship to England.” - -“It's the awkwardest place on God's footstool, this St. Helena, isn't -it?” said the American. - -“I don't see that it is; why do you say so?” - -“Only that I don't see why you want so partickler to land thar, mister. -Maybe you'll change yer mind, eh?” - -“I have said that I must part from this ship there,” exclaimed Mr. -Markham almost impatiently. “I must get this order reduced to money -somehow.” - -“Wal, I reckon that's about the point, mister.” said the speculator. -“But you see if you want to fly it as you say, you'll not breeze about -that it's needful for you to cut the craft before you come to the Cape. -I'd half a mind to try and trade with you for that bit of paper ten -minutes ago, but I reckon that's not what's the matter with me now. No, -_sir_; if you want to get rid of that paper without much trouble, just -you give out that you don't care if you do go on to the Cape; maybe a -nibble will come from that.” - -“I don't know what you mean, my good fellow,” said Markham; “but I can -only repeat that I will not go on to the Cape. I shall get the money -somehow and pay you before I leave, for surely the order is as good as -money to any one living in the midst of civilisation. I don't suppose a -savage would understand it, but I can't see what objection any one in -business could make to receiving it at its full value.” - -The American screwed up his mouth in a peculiar fashion, and smiled in -a still more peculiar fashion. He rather fancied he had a small piece -of tobacco in his waistcoat pocket, nor did the result of a search show -that he was mistaken; he extracted the succulent morsel and put it into -his mouth. Then he winked at Mr. Markham, put his hands in his pockets, -and walked slowly away without a word. - -Markham looked after him with a puzzled expression. He did not know -what the man meant to convey by his nods and his becks and his wreathed -smiles. But just at this moment Mr. Harwood came up; he had of course -previously made the acquaintance of Markham. - -“I suppose we shall soon be losing you?” said Harwood, offering him a -cigar. “You said, I think, that you would be leaving us at St. Helena?” - -“Yes, I leave at St. Helena, and we shall be there in a few days. You -see, I am now nearly as strong as ever, thanks to Campion, and it is -important for me to get to England at once.” - -“No doubt,” said Harwood; “your relatives will be very anxious if they -hear of the loss of the vessel you were in.” - -Markham gave a little laugh, as he said, “I have no relatives; and as -for friends--well, I suppose I shall have a number now.” - -“Now?” - -“Yes; the fact is I was on my way home from Australia to take up a -certain property which my father left to me in England. He died six -months ago, and the solicitors for the estate sent me out a considerable -sum of money in case I should need it in Australia--this order for four -hundred pounds is what remains of it.” - -“I can now easily understand your desire to be at home and settled -down,” said Harwood. - -“I don't mean to settle down,” replied Markham. “There are a good many -places to be seen in the world, small as it is.” - -“A man who has knocked about in the Colonies is generally glad to settle -down at home,” remarked Harwood. - -“No doubt that is the rule, but I fear I am all awry so far as rules -are concerned. I haven't allowed my life to be subject to many rules, -hitherto. Would to God I had! It is not a pleasant recollection for a -son to go through life with, Harwood, that his father has died without -becoming reconciled to him--especially when he knows that his father has -died leaving him a couple of thousands a year.” - -“And you----” - -“I am such a son,” said Markham, turning round suddenly. “I did all that -I could to make my father's life miserable till--a climax came, and I -found myself in Australia three years ago with an allowance sufficient -to keep me from ever being in want. But I forget, I'm not a modern -Ancient Mariner, wandering about boring people with my sad story.” - -“No,” said Harwood, “you are not, I should hope. Nor am I so pressed for -time just now as the wedding guest. You did not go in for a sheep-run in -Australia?” - -“Nothing of the sort,” laughed the other. “The only thing I went in for -was getting through my allowance, until that letter came that sobered -me--that letter telling me that my father was dead, and that every penny -he had possessed was mine. Harwood, you have heard of people's hair -turning white in a few hours, but you have not often heard of natures -changing from black to white in a short space; believe me it was so with -me. The idea that theologians used to have long ago about souls passing -from earth to heaven in a moment might well be believed by me, knowing -as I do how my soul was transformed by that letter. I cast my old life -behind me, though I did not tell any one about me what had happened. I -left my companions and said to them that I was going up country. I did -go up country, but I returned in a few days and got aboard the first -ship that was sailing for England, and--here I am.” - -“And you mean to renew your life of wandering when you reach England?” - said Harwood, after a pause. - -“It is all that there is left for me,” said the man bitterly, though a -change in his tone would have made his words seem very pitiful. “I am -not such a fool as to fancy that a man can sow tares and reap wheat. The -spring of my life is over, and also the summer, the seed-time and the -ripening; shall the harvest be delayed then? No, I am not such a fool.” - -“I cannot see that you might not rest at home,” said Harwood. “Surely -you have some associations in England.” - -“Not one that is not wretched.” - -“But a man of good family with some money is always certain to make new -associations for himself, no matter what his life has been. Marriage, -for instance; it is, I think, an exceedingly sure way of squaring a -fellow up in life.” - -“A very sure way indeed,” laughed Markham. “Never mind; in another week -I shall be away from this society which has already become so pleasant -to me. Perhaps I shall knock up against you in some of the strange -places of the earth, Harwood.” - -“I heartily hope so,” said the other. “But I still cannot see why you -should not come on with us to the Cape. The voyage will completely -restore you, you can get your money changed there, and a steamer of this -company's will take you away two days after you land.” - -“I cannot remain aboard this steamer,” said Markham quickly. “I must -leave at St. Helena.” Then he walked away with that shortness of -ceremony which steamer voyagers get into a habit of showing to each -other without giving offence. - -“Poor beggar!” muttered Harwood. “Wrecked in sight of the haven--a -pleasant haven--yes, if he is not an uncommonly good actor.” He turned -round from where he was leaning over the ship's side smoking, and saw -the man with whom he had been talking seated in his chair by the side -of Daireen Gerald. He watched them for some time--for a long time--until -his cigar was smoked to the very end. He looked over the side -thoughtfully as he dropped the remnant and heard its little hiss in -the water; then he repeated his words, “a wreck.” Once more he glanced -astern, and then he added thoughtfully, “Yes, he is right; he had much -better part at St. Helena--very much better.” - -Mr. Markham seemed quite naturally to have found his place in Mrs. -Crawford's set, exclusive though it was; for somehow aboard ship a man -amalgamates only with that society for which he is suited; a man is -seldom to be found out of place on account of certain considerations -such as one meets on shore. Not even Mr. Glaston could raise any protest -against Mr. Markham's right to take a place in the midst of the elect -of the cabin. But the young lady in whose birthday book Mr. Markham had -inscribed his name upon the first day of his appearance at the table, -thought it very unkind of him to join the band who had failed to -appreciate her toilet splendours. - -During the day on which he gave Harwood his brief autobiographical -outline, Mr. Oswin Markham was frequently by the side of Miss Gerald and -Mrs. Crawford. But towards night the major felt that it would be -unjust to allow him to be defrauded of the due amount of narratory -entertainment so necessary for his comfort; and with these excellent -intentions drew him away from the others of the set, and, sitting on the -secluded bridge, brought forth from the abundant resources of his memory -a few well-defined anecdotes of that lively Arradambad station. But -all the while the major was narrating the stories he could see that -Markham's soul was otherwhere, and he began to be disappointed in Mr. -Markham. - -“I mustn't bore you, Markham, my boy,” he said as he rose, after having -whiled away about two hours of the night in this agreeable occupation. -“No, I mustn't bore you, and you look, upon my soul, as if you had been -suffering.” - -“No, no, I assure you, I never enjoyed anything more than that story -of--of--the Surgeon-General and the wife of--of--the Commissary.” - -“The Adjutant-General, you mean,” interrupted the major. - -“Of course, yes, the Adjutant; a deucedly good story!” - -“Ah, not bad, is it? But there goes six bells; I must think about -turning in. Come and join me in a glass of brandy-and-water.” - -“No, no; not to-night--not to-night. The fact is I feel--I feel queer.” - -“You're not quite set on your feet yet, my boy,” said the major -critically. “Take care of yourself.” And he walked away, wondering if it -was possible that he had been deceived in his estimate of the nature of -Mr. Markham. - -But Mr. Markham continued sitting alone in the silence of the deserted -deck. His thoughts were truly otherwhere. He lay back upon his seat and -kept his eyes fixed upon the sky--the sky of stars towards which he had -looked in agony for those four nights when nothing ever broke in -upon the dread loneliness of the barren sea but those starlights. The -terrible recollection of every moment he had passed returned to him. - -Then he thought how he had heard of men becoming, through sufferings -such as his, oblivious of everything of their past life--men who were -thus enabled to begin life anew without being racked by any dread -memories, the agony that they had endured being acknowledged by Heaven -as expiation of their past deeds. That was justice, he felt, and if this -justice had been done to these men, why had it been withheld from him? - -“Could God Himself have added to what I endured?” he said, in passionate -bitterness. “God! did I not suffer until my agony had overshot its -mark by destroying in me the power of feeling agony--my agony consumed -itself; I was dead--dead; and yet I am denied the power of beginning my -new life under the conditions which are my due. What more can God want -of man than his life? have I not paid that debt daily for four days?” He -rose from his chair and stood upright upon the deck with clenched hands -and lips. “It is past,” he said, after a long pause. “From this hour -I throw the past beneath my feet. It is my right to forget all, and--I -have forgotten all--all.” - -Mr. Harwood had truly reason to feel surprised when, on the following -day, Oswin Markham came up to him, and said quietly: - -“I believe you are right, Harwood: after all, it would be foolish for me -to part from the ship at St. Helena. I have decided to take your advice -and run on to the Cape.” - -Harwood looked at him for a few moments before he answered slowly: - -“Ah, you have decided.” - -“Yes; you see I am amenable to reason: I acknowledge the wisdom of my -counsellors.” But Harwood made no answer, only continued with his -eyes fixed upon his face. “Hang it all,” exclaimed Markham, “can't -you congratulate me upon my return to the side of reason? Can't you -acknowledge that you have been mistaken in me--that you find I am not so -pig-headed as you supposed?” - -“Yes,” said Harwood; “you are not pig-headed.” And, taking all things -into consideration, it can hardly be denied that Mr. Oswin Markham's -claim to be exempted from the class of persons called pig-headed was -well founded. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - - 'Tis told me he hath very oft of late - - Given private time to you: and you yourself - - Have of your audience been most free and bounteous. - - Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?--_Hamlet_. - - -|MRS. Crawford felt that she was being unkindly dealt with by Fate in -many matters. She had formed certain plans on coming aboard the steamer -and on taking in at a glance the position of every one about her--it was -her habit to do so on the occasion of her arrival at any new station in -the Indian Empire--and hitherto she had generally had the satisfaction -of witnessing the success of her plans; but now she began to fear that -if things continued to diverge so widely from the paths which it was -natural to expect them to have kept, her skilful devices would be -completely overthrown. - -Mrs. Crawford had within the first few hours of the voyage communicated -to her husband her intention of surprising Colonel Gerald on the arrival -of his daughter at the Cape; for he could scarcely fail to be surprised -and, of course, gratified, if he were made aware of the fact that his -daughter had conceived an attachment for a young man so distinguished -in many ways as the son of the Bishop of the Calapash Islands and -Metropolitan of the Salamander Archipelago--the style and titles of the -father of Mr. Glaston. - -But Daireen, instead of showing herself a docile subject and ready to -act according to the least suggestion of one who was so much wiser -and more experienced than herself, had begun to think and to act -most waywardly. Though she had gone ashore at Madeira contrary to Mr. -Glaston's advice, and had even ventured to assert, in the face of Mr. -Glaston's demonstration to the contrary, that she had spent a pleasant -day, yet Mrs. Crawford saw that it would be quite possible, by care and -thoughtfulness in the future, to overcome all the unhappy influences her -childishness would have upon the mind of Mr. Glaston. - -Being well aware of this, she had for some days great hope of her -protégée; but then Daireen had apparently cast to the winds all her -sense of duty to those who were qualified to instruct her, for she -had not only disagreed from Mr. Glaston upon a theory he had expressed -regarding the symbolism of a certain design having for its -chief elements sections of pomegranates and conventionalised -daisies--Innocence allured by Ungovernable Passion was the parable -preached through the union of some tones of sage green and saffron, Mr. -Glaston assured the circle whom he had favoured with his views on this -subject--but she had also laughed when Mr. Harwood made some whispered -remark about the distressing diffusion of jaundice through the floral -creation. - -This was very sad to Mrs. Crawford. She was nearly angry with Daireen, -and if she could have afforded it, she would have been angry with Mr. -Harwood; she was, however, mindful of the influence of the letters she -hoped the special correspondent of the _Dominant Trumpeter_ would be -writing regarding the general satisfaction that was felt throughout -the colonies of South Africa that the Home Government had selected -so efficient and trustworthy an officer to discharge the duties in -connection with the Army Boot Commission, so she could not be anything -but most friendly towards Mr. Harwood. - -Then it was a great grief to Mrs. Crawford to see the man who, though -undoubtedly well educated and even cultured, was still a sort of -adventurer, seating himself more than once by the side of Daireen on the -deck, and to notice that the girl talked with him even when Mr. Glaston -was near--Mr. Glaston, who had referred to his sudden arrival aboard -the ship as being melodramatic. But on the day preceding the expected -arrival of the steamer at St. Helena, the well-meaning lady began to -feel almost happy once more, for she recollected how fixed had been Mr. -Markham's determination to leave the steamer at the island. Being almost -happy, she thought she might go so far as to express to the man the -grief which reflecting upon his departure excited. - -“We shall miss you from our little circle, I can assure you, Mr. -Markham,” she said. “Your coming was so--so”--she thought of a -substitute for melodramatic--“so unexpected, and so--well, almost -romantic, that indeed it has left an impression upon all of us. Try and -get into a room in the hotel at James Town that the white ants haven't -devoured; I really envy you the delicious water-cress you will have -every day.” - -“You will be spared the chance of committing that sin, Mrs. Crawford, -though I fear the penance which will be imposed upon you for having even -imagined it will be unjustly great. The fact is, I have been so weak as -to allow myself to be persuaded by Doctor Campion and Harwood to go on -to the Cape.” - -“To go on to the Cape!” exclaimed the lady. - -“To go on to the Cape, Mrs. Crawford; so you see you will be bored with -me for another week.” - -Mrs. Crawford looked utterly bewildered, as, indeed, she was. Her smile -was very faint as she said: - -“Ah, how nice; you have been persuaded. Ah, very pleasant it will be; -but how one may be deceived in judging of another's character! I really -formed the impression that you were firmness itself, Mr. Markham!” - -“So I am, Mrs. Crawford, except when my inclination tends in the -opposite direction to my resolution; then, I assure you, I can be led -with a strand of floss.” - -This was, of course, very pleasant chat, and with the clink of -compliment about it, but it was anything but satisfactory to the lady to -whom it was addressed. She by no means felt in the mood for listening -to mere colloquialisms, even though they might be of the most brilliant -nature, which Mr. Markham's certainly were not. - -“Yes, I fancied that you were firmness itself,” she repeated. “But you -allowed your mind to be changed by--by the doctor and Mr. Harwood.” - -“Well, not wholly, to say the truth, Mrs. Crawford,” he interposed. “It -is pitiful to have to confess that I am capable of being influenced by a -monetary matter; but so it is: the fact is, if I were to land now at St. -Helena, I should be not only penniless myself, but I should be obliged -also to run in debt for these garments that my friend Phineas F. Fulton -of Denver City supplied me with, not to speak of what I feel I owe to -the steamer itself; so I think it is better for me to get my paper money -turned into cash at the Cape, and then hurry homewards.” - -“No doubt you understand your own business,” said the lady, smiling -faintly as she walked away. - -Mr. Oswin Markham watched her for some moments in a thoughtful way. He -had known for a considerable time that the major's wife understood -her business, at any rate, and that she was also quite capable of -comprehending--nay, of directing as well--the business of every member -of her social circle. But how was it possible, he asked himself, that -she should have come to look upon his remaining for another week aboard -the steamer as a matter of concern? He was a close enough observer to be -able to see from her manner that she did so; but he could not understand -how she should regard him as of any importance in the arrangement of her -plans for the next week, whatever they might be. - -But Mrs. Crawford, so soon as she found herself by the side of Daireen -in the evening, resolved to satisfy herself upon the subject of the -influences which had been brought to bear upon Mr. Oswin Markham, -causing his character for determination to be lost for ever. - -Daireen was sitting alone far astern, and had just finished directing -some envelopes for letters to be sent home the next day from St. Helena. - -“What a capital habit to get into of writing on that little case on -your knee!” said Mrs. Crawford. “You have been on deck all day, you see, -while the other correspondents are shut down in the saloon. You have had -a good deal to tell the old people at that wonderful Irish lake of yours -since you wrote at Madeira.” - -Daireen thought of all she had written regarding Standish, to prevent -his father becoming uneasy about him. - -“Oh, yes, I have had a good deal of news that will interest them,” she -said. “I have told them that the Atlantic is not such a terrible place -after all. Why, we have not had even a breeze yet.” - -“No, _we_ have not, but you should not forget, Daireen, the tornado that -at least one ship perished in.” She looked gravely at the girl, -though she felt very pleased indeed to know that her protégée had not -remembered this particular storm. “You have mentioned in your letters, I -hope, how Mr. Markham was saved?” - -“I believe I devoted an entire page to Mr. Markham,” Daireen replied -with a smile. - -“That is right, my dear. You have also said, I am sure, how we all hope -he is--a--a gentleman.” - -“_Hope?_” said Daireen quickly. Then she added after a pause, “No, -Mrs. Crawford, I don't think I said that. I only said that he would be -leaving us to-morrow.” - -Mrs. Crawford's nicely sensitive ear detected, she fancied, a tinge of -regret in the girl's last tone. - -“Ah, he told you that he had made up his mind to leave the ship at St. -Helena, did he not?” she asked. - -“Of course he is to leave us there, Mrs. Crawford. Did you not -understand so?” - -“I did indeed; but I am disappointed in Mr. Markham. I thought that he -was everything that is firm. Yes, I am disappointed in him.” - -“How?” said Daireen, with a little flush and an anxious movement of her -eyes. “How do you mean he has disappointed you?” - -“He is not going to leave us at St. Helena, Daireen; he is coming on -with us to the Cape.” - -With sorrow and dismay Mrs. Crawford noticed Daireen's face undergo a -change from anxiety to pleasure; nor did she allow the little flush that -came to the girl's forehead to escape her observation. These changes of -countenance were almost terrifying to the lady. “It is the first time I -have had my confidence in him shaken,” she added. “In spite of what Mr. -Harwood said of him I had not the least suspicion of this Mr. Markham, -but now----” - -“What did! Mr. Harwood say of him?” asked Daireen, with a touch of scorn -in her voice. - -“You need not get angry, Daireen, my child,” replied Mrs. Crawford. - -“Angry, Mrs. Crawford? How could you fancy I was angry? Only what right -had this Mr. Harwood to say anything about Mr. Markham? Perhaps Mr. -Glaston was saying something too. I thought that as Mr. Markham was a -stranger every one here would treat him with consideration, and yet, you -see----” - -“Good gracious, Daireen, what can you possibly mean?” cried Mrs. -Crawford. “Not a soul has ever treated Mr. Markham except in good taste -from the day he came aboard this vessel. Of course young men will talk, -especially young newspaper men, and more especially young _Dominant. -Trumpeter_ men. For myself, you saw how readily I admitted Mr. Markham -into our set, though you will allow that, all things considered, I need -not have done so at all.” - -“He was a stranger,” said Daireen. - -“But he is not therefore an angel unawares, my dear,” said Mrs. -Crawford, smiling as she patted the girl's hand in token of amity. “So -long as he meant, to be a stranger of course we were justified in making -him as pleasant as possible; but now, you see, he is not going to be a -stranger. But why should we talk upon so unprofitable a subject? Tell me -all the rest that you have been writing about.” - -Daireen made an attempt to recollect what were the topics of her -letters, but she was not very successful in recalling them. - -“I told them about the--the albatross, how it has followed us so -faithfully,” she said; “and how the Cape pigeons came to us yesterday.” - -“Ah, indeed. Very nice it will be for the dear old people at home. Ah, -Daireen, how happy you are to have some place you can look back upon and -think of as your home. Here am I in my old age still a vagabond upon the -face of the earth. I have no home, dear.” The lady felt that this piece -of pathos should touch the girl deeply. - -“No, no, don't say that, my dear Mrs. Crawford,” Daireen said gently. -“Say that your dear kind goodnature makes you feel at home in every part -of the world.” - -This was very nice Mrs. Crawford felt, as she kissed the face beside -her, but she did not therefore come to the conclusion that it would be -well to forget that little expression of pleasure which had flashed over -this same face a few minutes before. - -At this very hour upon the evening following the anchors were being -weighed, and the good steamer was already backing slowly out from the -place it had occupied in the midst of the little fleet of whale-ships -and East Indiamen beneath the grim shadow of that black ocean rock, St. -Helena. The church spire of James Town was just coming into view as -the motion of the ship disclosed a larger space of the gorge where the -little town is built. The flag was being hauled down from the spar -at the top of Ladder Hill, and the man was standing by the sunset gun -aboard H.M.S. _Cobra_. The last of the shore-boats was cast off from the -rail, and then, the anchor being reported in sight, the steamer put on -full speed ahead, the helm was made hard-a-starboard, and the vessel -swept round out of the harbour. - -Mr. Harwood and Major Crawford were in anxious conversation with an -engineer officer who had been summoned to the Cape to assist in a -certain council which was to be held regarding the attitude of a Kafir -chief who was inclined to be defiant of the lawful possessors of the -country. But Daireen was standing at the ship's side looking at that -wonderful line of mountain-wall connecting the batteries round the -island. Her thoughts were not, however, wholly of the days when -there was a reason why this little island should be the most strongly -fortified in the ocean. As the steamer moved gently round the dark -cliffs she was not reflecting upon what must have been the feelings of -the great emperor-general who had been accustomed to stand upon these -cliffs and to look seaward. Her thoughts were indeed undefined in their -course, and she knew this when she heard the voice of Oswin Markham -beside her. - -“Can you fancy what would be my thoughts at this time if I had kept to -my resolution--and if I were now up there among those big rocks?” he -asked. - -She shook her head, but did not utter a word in answer. - -“I wonder what would yours have been now if I had kept to my -resolution,” he then said. - -“I cannot tell you, indeed,” she answered. “I cannot fancy what I should -be thinking.” - -“Nor can I tell you what my thought would be,” he said after a pause. He -was leaning with one arm upon the moulding of the bulwarks, and she had -her eyes still fixed upon the ridges of the island. He touched her and -pointed out over the water. The sun like a shield of sparkling gold -had already buried half its disc beneath the horizon. They watched the -remainder become gradually less and less until only a thread of gold was -on the water; in another instant this had dwindled away. “I know now -how I should have felt,” he said, with his eyes fixed upon the blank -horizon. - -The girl looked out to that blank horizon also. - -Then from each fort on the cliffs there leaped a little flash of light, -and the roar of the sunset guns made thunder all along the hollow shore; -before the echoes had given back the sound, faint bugle-calls were -borne out to the ocean as fort answered fort all along that line of -mountain-wall. The girl listened until the faintest farthest thin -sound dwindled away just as the last touch of sunlight had waned into -blankness upon the horizon. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - - _Polonius_. What treasure had he, my lord? - - _Hamlet_. Why, - - “One fair daughter and no more, - - The which he loved passing well.” - - -O my old friend, thy face is valanced since I saw thee last.... What, -my young lady and mistress! By'r lady, your ladyship is nearer to heaven -than when I saw you last.... You are all welcome.--_Hamlet._ - - -|HOWEVER varying, indefinite, and objectless the thoughts of Daireen -Gerald may have been--and they certainly were--during the earlier days -of the voyage, they were undoubtedly fixed and steadfast during the last -week. She knew that she could not hear anything of her father until she -would arrive at the Cape, and so she had allowed herself to be buoyed up -by the hopeful conversation of the major and Mrs. Crawford, who seemed -to think of her meeting with her father as a matter of certainty, and by -the various little excitements of every day. But now when she knew that -upon what the next few days would bring forth all the happiness of her -future life depended, what thought--what prayer but one, could she have? - -She was certainly not good company during these final days. Mr. Harwood -never got a word from her. Mr. Glaston did not make the attempt, though -he attributed her silence to remorse at having neglected his artistic -instructions. Major Crawford's gallantries received no smiling -recognition from her; and Mrs. Crawford's most motherly pieces of pathos -went by unheeded so far as Daireen was concerned. - -What on earth was the matter, Mrs. Crawford thought; could it be -possible that her worst fears were realised? she asked herself; and -she made a vow that even if Mr. Harwood had spoken a single word on the -subject of affection to Daireen, he should forfeit her own friendship -for ever. - -“My dear Daireen,” she said, two days after leaving St. Helena, “you -know I love you as a daughter, and I have come to feel for you as -a mother might. I know something is the matter--what is it? you may -confide in me; indeed you may.” - -“How good you are!” said the child of this adoption; “how very good! You -know all that is the matter, though you have in your kindness prevented -me from feeling it hitherto.” - -“Good gracious, Daireen, you frighten me! No one can have been speaking -to you surely, while I am your guardian----” - -“You know what a wretched doubt there is in my mind now that I know -a few days will tell me all that can be told--you know the terrible -question that comes to me every day--every hour--shall I see him?--shall -he be--alive?” - -Even the young men, with no touches of motherly pathos about them, had -appreciated the girl's feelings in those days more readily than Mrs. -Crawford. - -“My poor dear little thing,” she now said, fondling her in a way whose -soothing effect the combined efforts of all the young men could never -have approached. “Don't let the doubt enter your mind for an instant--it -positively must not. Your father is as well as I am to-day, I can assure -you. Can you disbelieve me? I know him a great deal better than you do; -and I know the Cape climate better than you do. Nonsense, my dear, no -one ever dies at the Cape--at least not when they go there to recover. -Now make your mind easy for the next three days.” - -But for just this interval poor Daireen's mind was in a state of -anything but repose. - -During the last night the steamer would be on the voyage she found it -utterly impossible to go to sleep. She heard all of the bells struck -from watch to watch. Her cabin became stifling to her though a cool -breeze was passing through the opened port. She rose, dressed herself, -and went on deck though it was about two o'clock in the morning. It -was a terrible thing for a girl to do, but nothing could have prevented -Daireen's taking that step. She stood just outside the door of the -companion, and in the moonlight and soft air of the sea more ease of -mind came to her than she had yet felt on this voyage. - -While she stood there in the moonlight listening to the even whisperings -of the water as it parted away before the ship, and to the fitful -flights of the winged fish, she seemed to hear some order as she -thought, given from the forward part of the vessel. In another minute -the officer on watch hastened past her. She heard him knock at the -captain's cabin which was just aft of the deck-house, and make the -report. - -“Fixed light right ahead, sir.” - -She knew then that the first glimpse of the land which they were -approaching had been obtained, and her anxiety gave place to peace. That -message of the light seemed to be ominous of good to her. She returned -to her cabin, and found it cool and tranquil, so that she fell asleep at -once; and when she next opened her eyes she saw a tall man standing with -folded arms beside her, gazing at her. She gave but one little cry, and -then that long drooping moustache of his was down upon her face and her -bare arms were about his neck. - -“Thank you, thank you, Dolly; that is a sufficiently close escape from -strangulation to make me respect your powers,” said the man; and at the -sound of his voice Daireen turned her face to her pillow, while the man -shook out with spasmodic fingers his handkerchief from its folds and -endeavoured to repair the injury done to his moustache by the girl's -embrace. - -“Now, now, my Dolly,” he said, after some convulsive mutterings which -Daireen could, of course, not hear; “now, now, don't you think it might -be as well to think of making some apology for your laziness instead of -trying to go asleep again?” - -Then she looked up with wondering eyes. - -“I don't understand anything at all,” she cried. “How could I go asleep -when we were within four hours of the Cape? How could any one be so -cruel as to let me sleep so dreadfully? It was wicked of me: it was -quite wicked.” - -“There's not the least question about the enormity of the crime, -I'm afraid,” he answered; “only I think that Mrs. Crawford may be -responsible for a good deal of it, if her confession to me is to be -depended upon. She told me how you were--but never mind, I am the -ill-treated one in the matter, and I forgive you all.” - -“And we have actually been brought into the dock?” - -“For the past half-hour, my love; and I have been waiting for much -longer. I got the telegram you sent to me, by the last mail from -Madeira, so that I have been on the lookout for the _Cardwell Castle_ -for a week. Now don't be too hard on an old boy, Dolly, with all of -those questions I see on your lips. Here, I'll take them in the lump, -and think over them as I get through a glass of brandy-and-water with -Jack Crawford and the Sylph--by George, to think of your meeting with -the poor old hearty Sylph--ah, I forgot you never heard that we used to -call Mrs. Crawford the Sylph at our station before you were born. There, -now I have got all your questions, my darling--my own darling little -Dolly.” - -She only gave him a little hug this time, and he hastened up to the -deck, where Mrs. Crawford and her husband were waiting for him. - -“Now, did I say anything more of her than was the truth, George?” cried -Mrs. Crawford, so soon as Colonel Gerald got on deck. - -But Colonel Gerald smiled at her abstractedly and pulled fiercely at the -ends of his moustache. Then seeing Mr. Harwood at the other side of -the skylight, he ran and shook hands with him warmly; and Harwood, -who fancied he understood something of the theory of the expression of -emotion in mankind, refrained from hinting to the colonel that they had -already had a chat together since the steamer had come into dock. - -Mrs. Crawford, however, was not particularly well pleased to find that -her old friend George Gerald had only answered her with that vague -smile, which implied nothing; she knew that he had been speaking for -half an hour before with Harwood, from whom he had heard the first -intelligence of his appointment to the Castaway group. When Colonel -Gerald, however, went the length of rushing up to Doctor Campion -and violently shaking hands with him also, though they had been in -conversation together before, the lady began to fear that the attack of -fever from which it was reported Daireen's father had been suffering had -left its traces upon him still. - -“Rather rum, by gad,” said the major, when his attention was called -to his old comrade's behaviour. “Just like the way a boy would behave -visiting his grandmother, isn't it? Looks as if he were working off his -feelings, doesn't it? By gad, he's going back to Harwood!” - -“I thought he would,” said Mrs. Crawford. “Harwood can tell him all -about his appointment. That's what George, like all the rest of them -nowadays, is anxious about. He forgets his child--he has no interest in -her, I see.” - -“That's devilish bad, Kate, devilish bad! by Jingo! But upon my soul, -I was under the impression that his wildness just now was the effect of -having been below with the kid.” - -“If he had the least concern about her, would he not come to me, when he -knows very well that I could tell him all about the voyage? But no, he -prefers to remain by the side of the special correspondent.” - -“No, he doesn't; here he comes, and hang me if he isn't going to shake -hands with both of us!” cried the major, as Colonel Gerald, recognising -him, apparently for the first time, left Harwood's side and hastened -across the deck with extended hand. - -“George, dear old George,” said Mrs. Crawford, reflecting upon the -advantages usually attributed to the conciliatory method of -treatment. “Isn't it like the old time come back again? Here we stand -together--Jack, Campion, yourself and myself, just as we used to be -in--ah, it cannot have been '58!--yes, it was, good gracious, '58! It -seems like a dream.” - -“Exactly like a dream, by Jingo, my dear,” said the major pensively, for -he was thinking what an auxiliary to the realistic effect of the scene a -glass of brandy-and-water, or some other Indian cooling drink, would be. -“Just like a vision, you know, George, isn't it? So if you'll come -to the smoking-room, we'll have that light breakfast we were talking -about.” - -“He won't go, major,” said the lady severely. - -“He wishes to have a talk with me about the dear child. Don't you, -George?” - -“And about your dear self, Kate,” replied Colonel Gerald, in the -Irish way that brought back to the lady still more vividly all the old -memories of the happy station on the Himalayas. - -“Ah, how like George that, isn't it?” she whispered to her husband. - -“My dear girl, don't be a tool,” was the parting request of the major as -he strolled off to where the doctor was, he knew, waiting for some sign -that the brandy and water were amalgamating. - -“I'm glad that we are alone, George,” said Mrs. Crawford, taking Colonel -Gerald's arm. “We can talk together freely about the child--about -Daireen.” - -“And what have we to say about her, Kate? Can you give me any hints -about her temper, eh? How she needs to be managed, and that sort of -thing? You used to be capital at that long ago.” - -“And I flatter myself that I can still tell all about a girl after a -single glance; but, my dear George, I never indeed knew what a truly -perfect nature was until I came to understand Daireen. She is an angel, -George.” - -“No,” said the colonel gently; “not Daireen--she is not the angel; but -her face, when I saw it just now upon its pillow, sent back all my soul -in thought of one--one who is--who always was an angel--my good angel.” - -“That was my first thought too,” said Mrs. Crawford. “And her nature is -the same. Only poor Daireen errs on the side of good nature. She is a -child in her simplicity of thought about every one she meets. She wants -some one near her who will be able to guide her tastes in--in--well, -in different matters. By the way, you remember Austin Glaston, who was -chaplain for a while on the _Telemachus_, and who got made Bishop of the -Salamanders; well, that is his son, that tall handsome youngman--I must -present you. He is one of the most distinguished men I ever met.” - -“Ah, indeed? Does he write for a newspaper?” - -“Oh, George, I am ashamed of you. No, Mr. Glaston is a--a--an artist and -a poet, and--well, he does nearly everything much better than any one -else, and if you take my advice you will give him an invitation to -dinner, and then you will find out all.” - -Before Colonel Gerald could utter a word he was brought face to face -with Mr. Glaston, and felt his grasp responded to by a gentle pressure. - -“I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Glaston; your father and I were old -friends. If you are staying at Cape Town, I hope you will not neglect to -call upon my daughter and myself,” said the colonel. - -“You are extremely kind,” returned the young man: “I shall be -delighted.” - -Thus Daireen on coming on deck found her father in conversation with -Mr. Glaston, and already acquainted with every member of Mrs. Crawford's -circle. - -“Mr. Glaston has just promised to pay you a visit on shore, my dear,” - said the major's wife, as she came up. - -“How very kind,” said Daireen. “But can he tell me where I live ashore, -for no one has thought fit to let me know anything about myself. I will -never forgive you, Mrs. Crawford, for ordering that I was not to be -awakened this morning. It was too cruel.” - -“Only to be kind, dear; I knew what a state of nervousness you were in.” - -“And now of course,” continued the girl, “when I come on deck all the -news will have been told--even that secret about the Castaway Islands.” - -“Heavens':” said the colonel, “what about the Castaway Islands? Have -they been submerged, or have they thrown off the British yoke already?” - -“I see you know all,” she said mournfully, “and I had treasured up all -that Mr. Harwood said no one in the world but himself knew, to be the -first to tell you. And now, too, you know every one aboard except--ah, -I have my secret to tell at last. There he stands, and even you don't -remember him, papa. Come here, Standish, and let me present you. -This, papa, is Standish Macnamara, and he is coming out with us now to -wherever we are to live.” - -“Good gracious, Daireen!” cried Mrs. Crawford. - -“What, Standish, Prince of Innishdermot!” said the colonel. “My dear -boy, I am delighted to welcome you to this strange place. I remember you -when your curls were a good deal longer, my boy.” - -Poor Standish, who was no longer in his sailor's jacket, but in the best -attire his Dublin tailor could provide, blushed most painfully as every -one gazed at him--every one with the exception of Daireen, who was -gazing anxiously around the deck as though she expected to see some one -still. - -“This is certainly a secret,” murmured Mrs. Crawford. - -“Now, Daireen, to the shore,” said Colonel Gerald. “You need not say -good-bye to any one here. Mrs. Crawford will be out to dine with us -to-morrow. She will bring the major and Doctor Campion, and Mr. Harwood -says he will ride one of my horses till he gets his own. So there need -be no tears. My man will look after the luggage while I drive you out.” - -“I must get my bag from my cabin,” Daireen said, going slowly towards -the companion. In a few moments she reappeared with her dressing-bag, -and gave another searching glance around the deck. - -“Now,” she said, “I am ready.” - - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - - - Something have you heard - - Of Hamlet's transformation; so call it-- - - ... What it should be... - - I cannot dream or - - ... gather - - So much as from occasion you may glean - - Whether aught to us unknown afflicts him. - - At night we'll feast together: - - Most welcome home! - - Most fair return of greetings._Hamlet._ - - -|WHAT an extraordinary affair!' said Mrs. Crawford, turning from where -she had been watching the departure of the colonel and his daughter and -that tall handsome young friend of theirs whom they had called Standish -MacDermot. - -'I would not have believed it of Daireen. Standish MacDermot--what a -dreadful Irish name! But where can he have been aboard the ship? He -cannot have been one of those terrible fore-cabin passengers. Ah, I -would not have believed her capable of such disingenuousness. Who is -this young man, Jack?' - -'My dear girl, never mind the young man or the young woman just now. -We must look after the traps and get them through the Custom-house.' -replied the major. - -'Mr. Harwood, who is this young man with the terrible Irish name?' she -asked in desperation of the special correspondent. She felt indeed in an -extremity when she sought Harwood for an ally. - -'I never was so much astonished in all my life,' he whispered in answer. -'I never heard of him. She never breathed a word about him to me.' - -Mrs. Crawford did not think this at all improbable, seeing that Daireen -had never breathed a word about him to herself. - -'My dear Mr. Harwood, these Irish are too romantic for us. It is -impossible for us ever to understand them.' And she hastened away to -look after her luggage. It was not until she was quite alone that she -raised her hands, exclaiming devoutly, 'Thank goodness Mr. Glaston had -gone before this second piece of romance was disclosed! What on earth -would he have thought!' - -The reflection made the lady shudder. Mr. Glaston's thoughts, if he had -been present while Daireen was bringing forward this child of mystery, -Standish MacDermot, would, she knew, have been too terrible to be -contemplated. - -As for Mr. Harwood, though he professed to be affected by nothing that -occurred about him, still he felt himself uncomfortably surprised by the -sudden appearance of the young Irishman with whom Miss Gerald and her -father appeared to be on such familiar terms; and as he stood looking up -to that marvellous hill in whose shadow Cape Town lies, he came to the -conclusion that it would be as well for him to find out all that could -be known about this Standish MacDermot. He had promised Daireen's father -to make use of one of his horses so long as he would remain at the Cape, -and it appeared from all he could gather that the affairs in the colony -were becoming sufficiently complicated to compel his remaining here -instead of hastening out to make his report of the Castaway group. The -British nation were of course burning to hear all that could be told -about the new island colony, but Mr. Harwood knew very well that -the heading which would be given in the columns of the '_Dominant -Trumpeter_' to any information regarding the attitude of the defiant -Kafir chief would be in very much larger type than that of the most -flowery paragraph descriptive of the charms of the Castaway group; and -so he had almost made up his mind that it would be to the advantage of -the newspaper that he should stay at the Cape. Of course he felt that he -had at heart no further interests, and so long as it was not conflicting -with those interests he would ride Colonel Gerald's horse, and, perhaps, -walk with Colonel Gerald's daughter. - -But all the time that he was reflecting in this consistent manner the -colonel and his daughter and Standish were driving along the base of -Table Mountain, while on the other side the blue waters of the lovely -bay were sparkling between the low shores of pure white sand, and far -away the dim mountain ridges were seen. - -'Shall I ever come to know that mountain and all about it as well as -I know our own dear Slieve Docas?' cried the girl, looking around her. -'Will you, do you think, Standish?' - -'Nothing here can compare with our Irish land,' cried Standish. - -'You are right my boy,' said Daireen's father. 'I have knocked about a -good deal, and I have seen a good many places, and, after all, I have -come to the conclusion that our own Suangorm is worth all that I have -seen for beauty.' - -'We can all sympathise with each other here,' said the girl laughing. -'We will join hands and say that there is no place in the world like our -Ireland, and then, maybe, the strangers here will believe us.' - -'Yes,' said her father, 'we will think of ourselves in the midst of a -strange country as three representatives of the greatest nation in, the -world. Eh, Standish, that would please your father.' - -But Standish could not make any answer to this allusion to his father. -He was in fact just now wondering what Colonel Gerald would say when he -would hear that Standish had travelled six thousand miles for the sake -of obtaining his advice as to the prudence of entertaining the thought -of leaving home. Standish was beginning to fear that there was a flaw -somewhere in the consistency of the step he had taken, complimentary -though it undoubtedly was to the judgment of Colonel Gerald. He could -hardly define the inconsistency of which he was conscious, but as the -phaeton drove rapidly along the red road beside the high peak of the -mountain he became more deeply impressed with the fact that it existed -somewhere. - -Passing along great hedges of cactus and prickly-pear, and by the side -of some well-wooded grounds with acres of trim green vineyards, the -phaeton proceeded for a few miles. The scene was strange to Daireen and -Standish; only for the consciousness of that towering peak they were -grateful. Even though its slope was not swathed in heather, it still -resembled in its outline the great Slieve Docas, and this was enough to -make them feel while passing beneath it that it was a landmark breathing -of other days. Half way up the ascent they could see in a ravine a large -grove of the silver-leaf fir, and the sun-glints among the exquisite -white foliage were very lovely. Further down the mighty aloes threw -forth their thick green branches in graceful divergence, and then along -the road were numerous bullock waggons with Malay drivers--eighteen -or twenty animals running in a team. Nothing could have added to the -strangeness of the scene to the girl and her companion, and yet the -shadow of that great hill made the land seem no longer weary. - -At last, just at the foot of the hill, Colonel Gerald turned his horses -to where there was a broad rough avenue made through a grove of pines, -and after following its curves for some distance, a broad cleared space -was reached, beyond which stood a number of magnificent Australian -oaks and fruit trees surrounding a long low Dutch-built house with an -overhanging roof and the usual stoëp--the raised stone border--in front. - -'This is our house, my darling,' said the girl's father as he pulled up -at the door. 'I had only a week to get it in order for you, but I hope -you will like it.' - -'Like it?' she cried; 'it is lovelier than any we had in India, and then -the hill--the hill--oh, papa, this is home indeed.' - -'And for me, my own little Dolly, don't you think it is home too?' he -said when he had his arms about her in the hall. 'With this face in my -hands at last I feel all the joy of home that has been denied to me for -years. How often have I seen your face, Dolly, as I sat with my coffee -in the evening in my lonely bungalow under the palms? The sight of it -used to cheer me night after night, darling,' but now that I have it -here--here----' - -'Keep it there,' she cried. 'Oh, papa, papa, why should we be miserable -apart ever again? I will stay with you now wherever you go for ever.' - -Colonel Gerald looked at her for a minute, he kissed her once again upon -the face, and then burst into a laugh. - -'And this is the only result of a voyage made under the protection of -Mrs. Crawford!' he said. 'My dear, you must have used some charm to have -resisted her power; or has she lost her ancient cunning? Why, after a -voyage with Mrs. Crawford I have seen the most devoted daughters desert -their parents. When I heard that you were coming out with her I feared -you would allow yourself to be schooled by her into a sense of your -duty, but it seems you have been stubborn.' - -'She was everything that is kind to me, and I don't know what I should -have done without her,' said the girl. 'Only, I'll never forgive her -for not having awakened me to meet you this morning. But last night -I suppose she thought I was too nervous. I was afraid, you know, -lest--lest--but never mind, here we are together at home--for there is -the hill--yes, at home.' - -But when Daireen found herself in the room to which she had been shown -by the neat little handmaiden provided by Colonel Gerald, and had seated -herself in sight of a bright green cactus that occupied the centre of -the garden outside, she had much to think about. She just at this moment -realised that all her pleasant life aboard the steamer was at an end. -More than a touch of sadness was in her reflection, for she had come to -think of the good steamer as something more than a mere machine; it -had been a home to her for twenty-five days, and it had contained her -happiness and sorrow during that time as a home would have done. Then -how could she have parted from it an hour before with so little concern? -she asked herself. How could she have left it without shaking hands -with--with all those who had been by her side for many days on the good -old ship? Some she had said goodbye to, others she would see again on -the following day, but still there were some whom she had left the ship -without seeing--some who had been associated with her happiness during -part of the voyage, at any rate, and she might never see them again. The -reflection made her very sad, nor did the feeling pass off during the -rest of the day spent by her father's side. - -The day was very warm, and, as Daireens father was still weak, he did -not stray away from the house beyond the avenue of shady oaks leading -down to a little stream that moved sluggishly on its way a couple of -hundred yards from the garden. They had, of course, plenty to talk -about; for Colonel Gerald was somewhat anxious to hear how his friend -Standish had come out. He had expressed the happiness he felt on meeting -with the young man as soon as his daughter had said that he would go -out to wherever they were to live, but he thought it would increase his -satisfaction if his daughter would tell him how it came to pass that -this young man was unacquainted with any of the passengers. - -Daireen now gave him the entire history of Standish's quarrel with his -father, and declared that it was solely to obtain the advice of Colonel -Gerald he had made the voyage from Ireland. - -The girl's father laughed when he heard of this characteristic action -on the part of the young man; but he declared that it proved he meant -to work for himself in the world, and not be content to live upon -the traditions of The Mac-Dermots; and then he promised the girl that -something should be done for the son of the hereditary prince. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - - - The nights are wholesome; - - No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, - - So hallowed and so gracious is the time. - - What, has this thing appeared again to-night?--Hamlet. - - -|WHEN evening came Daireen and her father sat out upon their chairs on -the stoëp in front of the house. The sun had for long been hidden by the -great peak, though to the rest of the world not under its shadow he had -only just sunk. The twilight was very different from the last she had -seen on land, when the mighty Slieve Docas had appeared in his purple -robe. Here the twilight was brief and darkly blue as it overhung the -arched aloes and those large palm plants whose broad leaves waved not -in the least breeze. Far in the mellow distance a large star was -glittering, and the only sound in the air was the shrill whistle of one -of the Cape field crickets. - -Then began the struggle between moonlight and darkness. The leaves of -the boughs that were clasped above the little river began to be softly -silvered as the influence of the rising light made itself apparent, and -then the highest ridges of the hill gave back a flash as the beams shot -through the air. - -These changes were felt by the girl sitting silently beside her -father--the changes of the twilight and of the moonlight, before the -full round shield of the orb appeared above the trees, and the white -beams fell around the broad floating leaves beneath her feet. - -'Are you tired, Dolly?' asked her father. - -'Not in the least, papa; it seems months since I was at sea.' - -'Then you will ride with me for my usual hour? I find it suits me better -to take an hour's exercise in the cool of the evening.' - -'Nothing could be lovelier on such an evening,' she cried. 'It will -complete our day's happiness.' - -She hastened to put on her habit while her father went round to the -stables to give directions to the groom regarding the saddling of a -certain little Arab which had been bought within the week. In a short -time Standish was left to gaze in admiration at the fine seat of the old -officer in his saddle, and in rapture at the delicately shaped figure of -the girl, as they trotted down the avenue between those strange trees. - -They disappeared among the great leaves; and when the sound of their -horses' hoofs had died away, Standish, sitting there upon the raised -ground in front of the house, had his own hour of thought. He felt that -he had hitherto not accomplished much in his career of labour. He had -had an idea that there were a good many of the elements of heroism in -joining as he did the vessel in which the girl was going abroad. Visions -of wrecks, of fires, of fallings overboard, nay of pirates even, had -floated before his mind, with himself as the only one near to save the -girl from each threatening calamity. He had heard of such things taking -place daily, and he was prepared to risk himself for her sake, and to -account himself happy if the chance of protecting her should occur. - -But so soon as he had been a few days at sea, and had found that such -a thing as danger was not even hinted at any more than it would be in -a drawing-room on shore--when in fact he saw how like a drawing-room on -shore was the quarter-deck of the steamer, he began to be disappointed. -Daireen was surrounded by friends who would, if there might chance to be -the least appearance of danger, resent his undertaking to save the girl -whom he loved with every thought of his soul. He would not, in fact, be -permitted to play the part of the hero that his imagination had marked -out for himself. - -Yes, he felt that the heroic elements in his position aboard the steamer -had somehow dwindled down to a minimum; and now here he had been so weak -as to allow himself to be induced to come out to live, even though only -for a short time, at this house. He felt that his acceptance of the -sisterly friendship of the girl was making it daily more impossible for -him to kneel at her feet, as he meant one day to do, and beg of her to -accept of some heroic work done on her behalf. - -'She is worthy of all that a man could do with all his soul,' Standish -cried as he stood there in the moonlight. But what can I do for her? -What can I do for her? Oh, I am the most miserable wretch in the whole -world!' - -This was not a very satisfactory conclusion for him to come to; but on -the whole it did not cause him much despondency. In his Irish nature -there were almost unlimited resources of hope, and it would have -required a large number of reverses of fortune to cast him down utterly. - -While he was trying in vain to make himself feel as miserable as he knew -his situation demanded him to be, Daireen and her father were riding -along the road that leads from Cape Town to the districts of Wynberg and -Constantia. They went along through the moonlight beneath the splendid -avenue of Australian oaks at the old Dutch district of Bondebosch, and -then they turned aside into a narrow lane of cactus and prickly pear -which brought them to that great sandy plain densely overgrown with -blossoming heath and gorse called The Mats, along which they galloped -for some miles. Turning their horses into the road once more, they then -walked them back towards their house at Mowbray. - -Daireen felt that she had never before so enjoyed a ride. All was so -strange. That hill whose peak was once again towering above them; that -long dark avenue with the myriads of fire-flies sparkling amongst the -branches; the moonlight that was flooding the world outside; and then -her companion, her father, whose face she had been dreaming over daily -and nightly. She had never before so enjoyed a ride. - -They had gone some distance through the oak avenue when they turned -their horses aside at the entrance to one of the large vineyards that -are planted in such neat lines up the sloping ground. - -'Well, Dolly, are you satisfied at last?' said Colonel Gerald, looking -into the girl's face that the moonlight was glorifying, though here and -there the shadow of a leaf fell upon her. - -'Satisfied! Oh, it is all like a dream,' she said. 'A strange dream of a -strange place. When I think that a month ago I was so different, I -feel inclined to--to--ask you to kiss me again, to make sure I am not -dreaming.' - -'If you are under the impression that you are a sleeping beauty, dear, -and that you can only be roused by that means, I have no objection.' - -'Now I am sure it is all reality,' she said with a little laugh. 'Oh, -papa, I am so happy. Could anything disturb our happiness?' - -Suddenly upon the dark avenue behind them there came the faint sound -of a horses hoof, and then of a song sung carelessly through the -darkness--one she had heard before. - -The singer was evidently approaching on horseback, for the last notes -were uttered just opposite where the girl and her father were standing -their horses behind the trees at the entrance to the vineyard. The -singer too seemed to have reined in at this point, though of course he -could not see either of the others, the branches were so close. Daireen -was mute while that air was being sung, and in another instant she -became aware of a horse being pushed between the trees a few yards from -her. There was only a small space to pass, so she and her father backed -their horses round and the motion made the stranger start, for he had -not perceived them before. - -'I beg you will not move on my account. I did not know there was anyone -here, or I should not have----' - -The light fell upon the girl's face, and her father saw the stranger -give another little start. - -'You need not make an apology to us, Mr. Markham,' said Daireen. 'We had -hidden ourselves, I know. Papa, this is Mr. Oswin Markham. How odd it is -that we should meet here upon the first evening of landing! The Cape is -a good deal larger than the quarterdeck of the “Cardwell Castle.”' - -'You were a passenger, no doubt, aboard the steamer my daughter came out -in, Mr. Markham?' said Colonel Gerald. - -Mr. Markham laughed. - -'Upon my word I hardly know that I am entitled to call myself a -passenger,' he said. 'Can you define my position, Miss Gerald? it was -something very uncertain. I am a castaway--a waif that was picked up in -a half-drowned condition from a broken mast in the Atlantic, and -sheltered aboard the hospitable vessel.' - -'It is very rarely that a steamer is so fortunate as to save a life -in that way,' said Colonel Gerald. 'Sailing vessels have a much better -chance.' - -'To me it seems almost a miracle--a long chain of coincidences was -necessary for my rescue, and yet every link was perfect to the end.' - -'It is upon threads our lives are constantly hanging,' said the colonel, -backing his horse upon the avenue. 'Do you remain long in the colony, -Mr. Markham?' he asked when they were standing in a group at a place -where the moonlight broke through the branches. - -'I think I shall have to remain for some weeks,' he answered. 'Campion -tells me I must not think of going to England until the violence of the -winter there is past.' - -'Then we shall doubtless have the pleasure of meeting you frequently. -We have a cottage at Mowbray, where we would be delighted to see you. By -the way, Mrs. Crawford and a few of my other old friends are coming -out to dine with us to-morrow, my daughter and myself would be greatly -pleased if you could join us.' - -'You are exceedingly kind,' said Mr. Markham. 'I need scarcely say how -happy I will be.' - -'Our little circle on board the good old ship is not yet to be -dispersed, you see, Mr. Markham,' said Daireen with a laugh. 'For once -again, at any rate, we will be all together.' - -'For once again,' he repeated as he raised his hat, the girl's horse -and her father's having turned. 'For once again, till when goodbye, Miss -Gerald.' - -'Goodbye, Mr. Markham,' said the colonel. 'By the way, we dine early I -should have told you--half past six.' - -Markham watched them ride along the avenue and reappear in the moonlight -space beyond. Then he dropped the bridle on his horse's neck and -listlessly let the animal nibble at the leaves on the side of the -road for a long time. At last he seemed to start into consciousness of -everything. He gathered up the bridle and brought the horse back to the -avenue. - -'It is Fate or Providence or God this time,' he muttered as if for his -own satisfaction. 'I have had no part in the matter; I have not so much -as raised my hand for this, and yet it has come.' - -He walked his horse back to Cape Town in the moonlight. - -'I don't think you mentioned this Mr. Markham's name to me, Dolly,' said -Colonel Gerald as they returned to Mowbray. - -'I don't think I did, papa; but you see he had gone ashore when I came -on deck to you this morning, and I did not suppose we should ever meet -again.' - -'I hope you do not object to my asking him to dinner, dear?' - -'I object, papa? Oh, no, no; I never felt so glad at anything. He does -not talk affectedly like Mr. Glaston, nor cleverly like Mr. Harwood, so -I prefer him to either of them. And then, think of his being for a week -tossing about the Atlantic upon that wreck.' - -'All very good reasons for asking him to dine to-morrow,' said her -father. 'Now suppose we try a trot.' - -'I would rather walk if it is the same to you, papa,' she said. 'I don't -feel equal to another trot now.' - -'Why, surely, you have not allowed yourself to become tired, Daireen? -Yes, my dear, you look it. I should have remembered that you are just -off the sea. We will go gently home, and you will get a good sleep.' - -They did go very gently, and silently too, and in a short time Daireen -was lying on her bed, thinking not of the strange moonlight wonders of -her ride, but of that five minutes spent upon the avenue of Australian -oaks down which had echoed that song. - -It seemed that poor Mrs. Crawford was destined to have enigmas of the -most various sorts thrust upon her for her solution; at any rate she -regarded the presence of Mr. Oswin Markham at Colonel Crawford's little -dinner the next, evening as a question as puzzling as the mysterious -appearance of the young man called Standish MacDermot. She, however, -chatted with Mr. Markham as usual, and learned that he also was going to -a certain garden party which was to be held at Government House in a few -days. - -'And you will come too, Daireen?' she said. 'You must come, for Mr. -Glaston has been so good as to promise to exhibit in one of the rooms a -few of his pictures he spoke to us about. How kind of him, isn't it, to -try and educate the taste of the colony?' The bishop has not yet arrived -at the Cape, but Mr. Glaston says he will wait for him for a fortnight.' - -'For a fortnight? Such filial devotion will no doubt bring its own -reward,' said Mr. Harwood. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - - - Being remiss, - - Most generous and free from all contriving. - - A heart unfortified, - - An understanding simple and unschooled. - - A violet in the youth of primy nature. - - O'tis most sweet - - When in one line two crafts directly meet. - - Soft,--let me see:-- - - We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings.--_Hamlet._ - - -|THE band of the gallant Bayonetteers was making the calm air of -Government House gardens melodious with the strains of an entrancing -German valse not more than a year old, which had convulsed society at -Cape Town when introduced a few weeks previously; for society at Cape -Town, like society everywhere else, professes to understand everything -artistic, even to the delicacies of German dance music. The evening was -soft and sunny, while the effect of a very warm day drawing near its -close was to be seen everywhere around. The broad leaves of the feathery -plants were hanging dry and languid across the walks, and the grass was -becoming tawny as that on the Lion's Head--that strangely curved hill -beside Table Mountain. The giant aloes and plantains were, however, -defiant of the heat and spread their leaves out mightily as ever. - -The gardens are always charming in the southern spring, but never so -charming as when their avenues are crowded with coolly dressed girls of -moderate degrees of prettiness whose voices are dancing to the melody of -a German valse not more than a year old. How charming it is to discuss -all the absorbing colonial questions--such as how the beautiful Van -der Veldt is looking this evening; and if Miss Van Schmidt, whose papa -belongs to the Legislative Council and is consequently a voice in the -British Empire, has really carried out his threat of writing home to the -War Office to demand the dismissal of that young Mr. Westbury from the -corps of Royal Engineers on account of his conduct towards Miss Van -Schmidt; or perhaps a question of art, such as how the general's -daughters contrive to have Paris bonnets several days previous to the -arrival of the mail with the patterns; or a question of diplomacy, such -as whether His Excellency's private secretary will see his way to making -that proposal to the second eldest daughter of one of the Supreme Court -judges. There is no colony in the world so devoted to discussions of -this nature as the Cape, and in no part of the colony may a discussion -be carried out with more spirit than in the gardens around Government -House. - -But upon the afternoon of this garden party there was an unusual display -of colonial beauty and colonial young men--the two are never found in -conjunction--and English delicacy and Dutch _gaucherie_, for the spring -had been unusually damp, and this was the first garden party day that -was declared perfect. There were, of course, numbers of officers, the -military with their wives--such as had wives, and the naval with other -people's wives, each branch of the service grumbling at the other's luck -in this respect. And then there were sundry civil servants of exalted -rank--commissioners of newly founded districts, their wives and -daughters, and a brace of good colonial bishops also, with their -partners in their mission labours, none of whom objected to Waldteufel -or Gung'l. - -On the large lawn in front of the balcony at the Residence there was a -good deal of tennis being played, and upon the tables laid out on the -balcony there were a good many transactions in the way of brandy and -soda carried on by special commissioners and field officers, whose -prerogative it was to discuss the attitude of the belligerent Kafir -chief who, it was supposed, intended to give as much trouble as he could -without inconvenience to himself. And then from shady places all around -the avenues came the sounds of girlish laughter and the glimmer of -muslin. Behind this scene the great flat-faced, flat-roofed mountain -stood dark and bold, and through it all the band of the Bayonetteers -brayed out that inspiriting valse. - -Major Crawford was, in consequence of the importance of his mission to -the colony, pointed out to the semi-Dutch legislators, each of whom -had much to tell him on the burning boot question; and Mr. Harwood -was naturally enough, regarded with interest, for the sounds of the -'Dominant Trumpeter' go forth into all the ends of the earth. Mr. -Glaston, too, as son of the Metropolitan of the Salamander Archipelago, -was entitled to every token of respectful admiration, even if he had not -in the fulness of his heart allowed a few of his pictures to be hung -in one of the reception rooms. But perhaps Daireen Gerald had more eyes -fixed upon her than anyone in the gardens. - -Everyone knew that she was the daughter of Colonel Gerald who had -just been gazetted Governor-General of the new colony of the Castaway -Islands, but why she had come out to the Cape no one seemed to know -exactly. Many romances were related to account for her appearance, the -Cape Town people possessing almost unlimited resources in the way of -romance making; but as no pains were taken to bring about a coincidence -of stories, it was impossible to say who was in the right. - -She was dressed so perfectly according to Mr. Glaston's theories of -harmony that he could not refrain from congratulating her--or rather -commending her--upon her good taste, though it struck Daireen that there -was not much good taste in his commendation. He remained by her side for -some time lamenting the degradation of the colony in being shut out from -Art--the only world worth living in, as he said; then Daireen found -herself with some other people to whom she had been presented, and who -were anxious to present her to some relations. - -The girl's dress was looked at by most of the colonial young ladies, -and her figure was gazed at by all of the men, until it was generally -understood that to have made the acquaintance of Miss Gerald was a -happiness gained. - -'My dear George,' said Mrs. Crawford to Colonel Gerald when she -had contrived to draw him to her side at a secluded part of the -gardens,--'My dear George, she is far more of a success than even -I myself anticipated. Why, the darling child is the centre of all -attraction.' - -'Poor little Dolly! that is not a very dizzy point to reach at the Cape, -is it, Kate?' - -'Now don't be provoking, George. We all know well enough, of course, -that it is here the same as at any place else: the latest arrival has -the charm of novelty. But it is not so in Daireen's case. I can see at -once--and I am sure you will give me credit for some power of perception -in these things--that she has created a genuine impression. George, -you may depend on her receiving particular attention on all sides.' The -lady's voice lowered confidentially until her last sentence had in it -something of the tone of a revelation. - -'That will make the time pass in a rather lively way for Dolly,' said -George, pulling his long iron-grey moustache as he smiled thoughtfully, -looking into Mrs. Crawford's face. - -'Now, George, you must fully recognise the great responsibility resting -with you--I certainly feel how much devolves upon myself, being as I am, -her father's oldest friend in the colony, and having had the dear child -in my care during the voyage.' - -'Nothing could be stronger than your claims.' - -'Then is it not natural that I should feel anxious about her, George? -This is not India, you must remember.' - -'No, no,' said the colonel thoughtfully; 'it's not India.' He was trying -to grasp the exact thread of reasoning his old friend was using in her -argument. He could not at once see why the fact of Cape Town not being -situated in the Empire of Hindustan should cause one's responsible -duties to increase in severity. - -'You know what I mean, George. In India marriage is marriage, and a -certain good, no matter who is concerned in it. It is one's duty there -to get a girl married, and there is no blame to be attached to one if -everything doesn't turn out exactly as one could have wished.' - -'Ah, yes, exactly,' said the colonel, beginning to comprehend. 'But I -think you have not much to reproach yourself with, Kate; almost every -mail brought you out an instalment of the youth and beauty of home, and -I don't think that one ever missed fire--failed to go off, you know.' - -'Well, yes, I may say I was fortunate, George,' she replied, with a -smile of reflective satisfaction. 'But this is not India, George; we -must be very careful. I observed Daireen carefully on the voyage, and I -can safely say that the dear child has yet formed no attachment.' - -'Formed an attachment? You mean--oh Kate, the idea is too absurd,' said -Colonel Gerald. 'Why, she is a child--a baby.' - -'Of course all fathers think such things about their girls,' said the -lady with a pitying smile. 'They understand their boys well enough, and -take good care to make them begin to work not a day too late, but their -girls are all babies. Why, George, Daireen must be nearly twenty.' - -Colonel Gerald was thoughtful for some moments. 'So she is,' he said; -'but she is still quite a baby.' - -'Even so,' said the lady, 'a baby's tastes should be turned in the right -direction. By the way, I have been asked frequently who is this young -Mr. MacDermot who came out to you in such a peculiar fashion. People are -beginning to talk curiously about him.' - -'As people at the Cape do about everyone,' said the colonel. 'Poor -Standish might at least have escaped criticism.' - -'I scarcely think so, George, considering how he came out.' - -'Well, it was rather what people who do not understand us call an Irish -idea. Poor boy!' - -'Who is he, George?' 'The son of one of our oldest friends. The -friendship has existed between his family and mine for some hundreds of -years.' - -'Why did he come out to the Cape in that way?' - -'My dear Kate, how can I tell you everything?' said the puzzled colonel. -'You would not understand if I were to try and explain to you how -this Standish MacDermot's father is a genuine king, whose civil list -unfortunately does not provide for the travelling expenses of the -members of his family, so that the young man thought it well to set out -as he did.' 'I hope you are not imposing on me, George. Well, I must -be satisfied, I suppose. By the way, you have not yet been to the room -where Mr. Glaston's pictures are hung; we must not neglect to see them. -Mr. Glaston told me just now he thought Daireen's taste perfect.' - -'That was very kind of Mr. Glaston.' - -'If you knew him as I do, George--in fact as he is known in the most -exclusive drawing-rooms in London--you would understand how much his -commendation is worth,' said Mrs. Crawford. - -'I have no doubt of it. He must come out to us some evening to dinner. -For his father's sake I owe him some attention, if not for his remark to -you just now.' - -'I hope you may not forget to ask him,' said Mrs. Crawford. 'He is -a most remarkable young man. Of course he is envied by the less -accomplished, and you may hear contradictory reports about him. But, -believe me, he is looked upon in London as the leader of the most -fashionable--that is--the most--not most learned--no, the most artistic -set in town. Very exclusive they are, but they have done ever so much -good--designing dados, you know, and writing up the new pomegranate -cottage wall-paper.' - -'I am afraid that Mr. Glaston will find my Hutch cottage deficient in -these elements of decoration,' remarked the colonel. - -'I wanted to talk to you about him for a long time,' said Mrs. Crawford. -'Not knowing how you might regard the subject, I did not think it -well to give him too much encouragement on the voyage, George, so that -perhaps he may have thought me inclined to repel him, Daireen being in -my care; but I am sure that all may yet be well. Hush! who is it that -is laughing so loud? they are coming this way. Ah, Mr. Markham and -that little Lottie Vincent. Good gracious, how long that girl is in the -field, and how well she wears her age! Doesn't she look quite juvenile?' - -Colonel Gerald could not venture an answer before the young lady, who -was the eldest daughter of the deputy surgeon-general, tripped -up to Mrs. Crawford, and cried, clasping her four-button -strawberry-ice-coloured gloves over the elder lady's plump arm, -'Dear good Mrs. Crawford, I have come to you in despair to beg your -assistance. Promise me that you will do all you can to help me.' 'If -your case is so bad, Lottie, I suppose I must. But what am I to do?' - -'You are to make Mr. Markham promise that he will take part in our -theatricals next month. He can act--I know he can act like Irving or -Salvini or Terry or Mr. Bancroft or some of the others, and yet he will -not promise to take any part. Could anything be more cruel?' - -'Nothing, unless I were to take some part,' said Mr. Markham, laughing. - -'Hush, sir,' cried the young lady, stamping her Pinet shoe upon -the ground, and taking care in the action to show what a remarkably -well-formed foot she possessed. - -'It is cruel of you to refuse a request so offered, Mr. Markham,' said -Mrs. Crawford. 'Pray allow yourself to be made amenable to reason, and -make Miss Vincent happy for one evening.' - -'Since you put it as a matter of reason, Mrs. Crawford, there is, I -fear, no escape for me,' said Mr. Markham. - -'Didn't I talk to you about reason, sir?' cried the young lady in very -pretty mock anger. - -'You talked _about_ it,' said Markham, 'just as we walked about that -centre bed of cactus, we didn't once touch upon it, you know. You talk -very well about a subject, Miss Vincent.' - -'Was there ever such impertinence? Mrs. Crawford, isn't it dreadful? But -we have secured him for our cast, and that is enough. You will take a -dozen tickets of course, Colonel Gerald?' - -'I can confidently say the object is most worthy,' said Markham. - -'And he doesn't know what it is yet,' said Lottie. - -'That's why I can confidently recommend it.' - -'Now do give me five minutes with Colonel Gerald, like a good dear,' -cried the young lady to Mrs. Crawford! 'I must persuade him.' - -'We are going to see Mr. Glaston's pictures,' replied Mrs. Crawford. - -'How delightful! That is what I have been so anxious to do all the -afternoon: one feels so delightfully artistic, you know, talking about -pictures; and people think one knows all about them. Do let us go with -you, Mrs. Crawford. I can talk to Colonel Gerald while you go on with -Mr. Markham.' - -'You are a sad little puss,' said Mrs. Crawford, shaking her finger at -the artless and ingenuous maiden; and as she walked on with Mr. Markham -she could not help remembering how this little puss had caused herself -to be pretty hardly spoken about some ten years before at the Arradambad -station in the Himalayahs. - -How well she was wearing her age to be sure, Mrs. Crawford thought. -It is not many young ladies who, after ten years' campaigning, can -be called sad little pusses; but Miss Vincent still looked quite -juvenile--in fact, _plus Arabe qu'en Arabie_--more juvenile than a -juvenile. Everyone knew her and talked of her in various degrees of -familiarity; it was generally understood that an acquaintanceship of -twenty-four hours' duration was sufficient to entitle any field officer -to call her by the abbreviated form of her first name, while a week was -the space allowed to subalterns. - - -END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. - - - - -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... 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 51938-0.txt or 51938-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/3/51938/ - -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/51938-0.zip b/old/51938-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d85246c..0000000 --- a/old/51938-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51938-8.txt b/old/51938-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index a036e30..0000000 --- a/old/51938-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12779 +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 - Complete - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51938] - -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 - -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 I. - - -`````A king - -```Upon whose property... - -```A damn'd defeat was made.= - -`````A king - -```Of shreds and patches.= - -The very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in this box; and must -the inheritor himself have no more? _Hamlet._ - - -|MY son," said The Macnamara with an air of grandeur, "my son, you've -forgotten what's due"--he pronounced it "jew"--"to yourself, what's -due to your father, what's due to your forefathers that bled," and -The Macnamara waved his hand gracefully; then, taking advantage of its -proximity to the edge of the table, he made a powerful but ineffectual -attempt to pull himself to his feet. Finding himself baffled by the -peculiar formation of his chair, and not having a reserve of breath to -draw upon for another exertion, he concealed his defeat under a pretence -of feeling indifferent on the matter of rising, and continued fingering -the table-edge as if endeavouring to read the initials which had been -carved pretty deeply upon the oak by a humorous guest just where his -hand rested. "Yes, my son, you've forgotten the blood of your ancient -sires. You forget, my son, that you're the offspring of the Macnamaras -and the O'Dermots, kings of Munster in the days when there were kings, -and when the Geralds were walking about in blue paint in the woods -of the adjacent barbarous island of Britain"--The Macnamara said -"barbarious." - -"The Geralds have been at Suanmara for four hundred years," said -Standish quickly, and in the tone of one resenting an aspersion. - -"Four hundred years!" cried The Macnamara scornfully. "Four hundred -years! What's four hundred years in the existence of a family?" He felt -that this was the exact instant for him to rise grandly to his feet, -so once more he made the essay, but without a satisfactory result. As -a matter of fact, it is almost impossible to release oneself from the -embrace of a heavy oak chair when the seat has been formed of light -cane, and this cane has become tattered. - -"I don't care about the kings of Munster--no, not a bit," said Standish, -taking a mean advantage of the involuntary captivity of his father to -insult him. - -"I'm dead sick hearing about them. They never did anything for me." - -The Macnamara threw back his head, clasped his hands over his bosom, -and gazed up to the cobwebs of the oak ceiling. "My sires--shades of -the Macnamaras and the O'Dermots, visit not the iniquity of the children -upon the fathers," he exclaimed. And then there came a solemn pause -which the hereditary monarch felt should impress his son deeply; but -the son was not deceived into fancying that his father was overcome with -emotion; he knew very well that his father was only thinking how with -dignity he could extricate himself from his awkward chair, and so he -was not deeply affected. "My boy, my boy," the father murmured in a weak -voice, after his apostrophe to the shades of the ceiling, "what do you -mean to do? Keep nothing secret from me, Standish; I'll stand by you to -the last." - -"I don't mean to do anything. There is nothing to be done--at -least--yet." - -"What's that you say? Nothing to be done? You don't mean to say you've -been thrifling with the young-woman's affection? Never shall a son of -mine, and the offspring of The Macnamaras and the----" - -"How can you put such a question to me?" said the young man indignantly. -"I throw back the insinuation in your teeth, though you are my father. -I would scorn to trifle with the feelings of any lady, not to speak of -Miss Gerald, who is purer than the lily that blooms----" - -"In the valley of Shanganagh--that's what you said in the poem, my boy; -and it's true, I'm sure." - -"But because you find a scrap of poetry in my writing you fancy that I -forget my--my duty--my----" - -"Mighty sires, Standish; say the word at once, man. Well, maybe I was -too hasty, my boy; and if you tell me that you don't love her now, I'll -forgive all." - -"Never," cried the young man, with the vehemence of a mediaeval burning -martyr. "I swear that I love her, and that it would be impossible for me -ever to think of any one else." - -"This is cruel--cruel!" murmured The Macnamara, still thinking how he -could extricate himself from his uneasy seat. "It is cruel for a father, -but it must be borne--it must be borne. If our ancient house is to -degenerate to a Saxon's level, I'm not to blame. Standish, my boy, I -forgive you. Take your father's hand." - -He stretched out his hand, and the young man took it. The grasp of The -Macnamara was fervent--it did not relax until he had accomplished the -end he had in view, and had pulled himself to his feet. Standish was -about to leave the room, when his father, turning his eyes away from -the tattered cane-work of the chair, that now closely resembled the -star-trap in a pantomime, cried: - -"Don't go yet, sir. This isn't to end here. Didn't you tell me that your -affection was set upon this daughter of the Geralds?" - -"What is the use of continuing such questions?" cried the young man -impatiently. The reiteration by his father of this theme--the most -sacred to Standish's ears--was exasperating. - -"No son of mine will be let sneak out of an affair like this," said -the hereditary monarch. "We may be poor, sir, poor as a bogtrotter's -dog----" - -"And we are," interposed Standish bitterly. - -"But we have still the memories of the grand old times to live upon, -and the name of Macnamara was never joined with anything but honour. You -love that daughter of the Geralds--you've confessed it; and though the -family she belongs to is one of these mushroom growths that's springing -up around us in three or four hundred years--ay, in spite of the upstart -family she belongs to, I'll give my consent to your happiness. We -mustn't be proud in these days, my son, though the blood of kings--eh, -where do ye mean to be going before I've done?" - -"I thought you had finished." - -"Did you? well, you're mistaken. You don't stir from here until you've -promised me to make all the amends in your power to this daughter of the -Geralds." - -"Amends? I don't understand you." - -"Don't you tell me you love her?" - -The refrain which was so delightful to the young man's ears when he -uttered it alone by night under the pure stars, sounded terrible when -reiterated by his father. But what could he do--his father was now upon -his feet? - -"What is the use of profaning her name in this fashion?" cried Standish. -"If I said I loved her, it was only when you accused me of it and -threatened to turn me out of the house." - -"And out of the house you'll go if you don't give me a straightforward -answer." - -"I don't care," cried Standish doggedly. "What is there here that should -make me afraid of your threat? I want to be turned out. I'm sick of this -place." - -"Heavens! what has come over the boy that he has taken to speaking like -this? Are ye demented, my son?" - -"No such thing," said Standish. "Only I have been thinking for the past -few days over my position here, and I have come to the conclusion that I -couldn't be worse off." - -"You've been thinking, have you?" asked The Macnamara contemptuously. -"You depart so far from the traditions of your family? Well, well," -he continued in an altered tone, after a pause, "maybe I've been a bad -father to you, Standish, maybe I've neglected my duty; maybe----" here -The Macnamara felt for his pocket-handkerchief, and having found it, he -waved it spasmodically, and was about to throw himself into his chair -when he recollected its defects and refrained, even though he was well -aware that he was thereby sacrificing much of the dramatic effect up to -which he had been working. - -"No, father; I don't want to say that you have been anything but good to -me, only----" - -"But I say it, my son," said The Macnamara, mopping his brows earnestly -with his handkerchief. "I've been a selfish old man, haven't I, now?" - -"No, no, anything but that. You have only been too good. You have given -me all I ever wanted--except----" - -"Except what? Ah, I know what you mean--except money. Ah, your reproach -is bitter--bitter; but I deserve it all, I do." - -"No, father: I did not say that at all." - -"But I'll show you, my boy, that your father can be generous once of a -time. You love her, don't you, Standish?" - -His father had laid his hand upon his shoulder now, and spoke the words -in a sentimental whisper, so that they did not sound so profane as -before. - -"I worship the ground she treads on," his son answered, tremulous with -eagerness, a girlish blush suffusing his cheeks and invading the curls -upon his forehead, as he turned his head away. - -"Then I'll show you that I can be generous. You shall have her, Standish -Macnamara; I'll give her to you, though she is one of the new families. -Put on your hat, my boy, and come out with me." - -"Are you going out?" said Standish. - -"I am, so order round the car, if the spring is mended. It should be, -for I gave Eugene the cord for it yesterday." - -Standish made a slight pause at the door as if about to put another -question to his father; after a moment of thoughtfulness, however, he -passed out in silence. - -When the door had closed--or, at least, moved upon its hinges, for the -shifting some years previously of a portion of the framework made its -closing an impossibility--The Macnamara put his hands deep into -his pockets, jingling the copper coins and the iron keys that each -receptacle contained. It is wonderful what suggestions of wealth may be -given by the judicious handling of a few coppers and a bunch of keys, -and the imagination of The Macnamara being particularly sanguine, he -felt that the most scrupulous moneylender would have offered him at that -moment, on the security of his personal appearance and the sounds of his -jingling metal, any sum of money he might have named. He rather wished -that such a moneylender would drop in. But soon his thoughts changed. -The jingling in his pockets became modified, resembling in tone an -unsound peal of muffled bells; he shook his head several times. - -"Macnamara, my lad, you were too weak," he muttered to himself. "You -yielded too soon; you should have stood out for a while; but how could I -stand out when I was sitting in that trap?" - -He turned round glaring at the chair which he blamed as the cause of -his premature relaxation. He seemed measuring its probable capacities of -resistance; and then he raised his right foot and scrutinised the boot -that covered it. It was not a trustworthy boot, he knew. Once more he -glanced towards the chair, then with a sigh he put his foot down and -walked to the window. - -Past the window at this instant the car was moving, drawn by a -humble-minded horse, which in its turn was drawn by a boy in a faded -and dilapidated livery that had evidently been originally made for -a remarkably tall man. The length of the garment, though undeniably -embarrassing in the region of the sleeves, had still its advantages, not -the least of which was the concealment of a large portion of the bare -legs of the wearer; it was obvious too that when he should mount his -seat, the boy's bare feet would be effectually hidden, and from a -livery-wearing standpoint this would certainly be worth consideration. - -The Macnamara gave a critical glance through the single transparent -pane of the window--the pane had been honoured above its fellows by a -polishing about six weeks before--and saw that the defective spring of -the vehicle had been repaired. Coarse twine had been employed for this -purpose; but as this material, though undoubtedly excellent in its way, -and of very general utility, is hardly the most suitable for restoring -a steel spring to its original condition of elasticity, there was a good -deal of jerkiness apparent in the motion of the car, especially when -the wheels turned into the numerous ruts of the drive. The boy at the -horse's head was, however, skilful in avoiding the deeper depths, and -the animal was also most considerate in its gait, checking within itself -any unseemly outburst of spirit and restraining every propensity to -break into a trot. - -"Now, father, I'm ready," said Standish, entering with his hat on. - -"Has Eugene brushed my hat?" asked The Macnamara. - -"My black hat, I mean?" - -"I didn't know you were going to wear it today, when you were only -taking a drive," said Standish with some astonishment. - -"Yes, my boy, I'll wear the black hat, please God, so get it brushed; -and tell him that if he uses the blacking-brush this time I'll have his -life." Standish went out to deliver these messages; but The Mac-namara -stood in the centre of the big room pondering over some weighty -question. - -"I will," he muttered, as though a better impulse of his nature were -in the act of overcoming an unworthy suggestion. "Yes, I will; when I'm -wearing the black hat things should be levelled up to that standard; -yes, I will." - -Standish entered in a few minutes with his father's hat--a tall, -old-fashioned silk hat that had at one time, pretty far remote, been -black. The Macnamara put it on carefully, after he had just touched the -edges with his coat-cuff to remove the least suspicion of dust; then he -strode out followed by his son. - -The car was standing at the hall door, and Eugene the driver was beside -it, giving a last look to the cordage of the spring. When The Macnamara, -however, appeared, he sprang up and touched his forehead, with a smile -of remarkable breadth. The Macnamara stood impassive, and in dignified -silence, looking first at the horse, then at the car, and finally at the -boy Eugene, while Standish remained at the other side. Eugene bore the -gaze of the hereditary monarch pretty well on the whole, conscious of -the abundance of his own coat. The scrutiny of The Macnamara passed -gradually down the somewhat irregular row of buttons until it rested -on the protruding bare feet of the boy. Then after another moment of -impressive silence, he waved one hand gracefully towards the door, -saying: - -"Eugene, get on your boots." - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -`````Let the world take note - -````You are the most immediate to our throne; - -```And with no less nobility of love - -```Than that which dearest father bears his son - -```Do I impart toward you.= - -```How is it that the clouds still hang on you?= - -```Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl. - -`````Hamlet.= - - -|WHEN the head of a community has, after due deliberation, resolved upon -the carrying out of any bold social step, he may expect to meet with the -opposition that invariably obstructs the reformer's advance; so that -one is tempted--nay, modern statesmanship compels one--to believe that -secrecy until a projected design is fully matured is a wise, or at least -an effective, policy. The military stratagem of a surprise is frequently -attended with good results in dealing with an enemy, and as a friendly -policy why should it not succeed? - -This was, beyond a question, the course of thought pursued by The -Macnamara before he uttered those words to Eugene. He had not given -the order without careful deliberation, but when he had come to the -conclusion that circumstances demanded the taking of so bold a step, he -had not hesitated in his utterance. - -Eugene was indeed surprised, and so also was Standish. The driver took -off his hat and passed his fingers through his hair, looking down to -his bare feet, for he was in the habit of getting a few weeks of warning -before a similar order to that just uttered by his master was given to -him. - -"Do you hear, or are you going to wait till the horse has frozen to the -sod?" inquired The Macnamara; and this brought the mind of the boy out -of the labyrinth of wonder into which it had strayed. He threw down the -whip and the reins, and, tucking up the voluminous skirts of his -coat, ran round the house, commenting briefly as he went along on the -remarkable aspect things were assuming. - -Entering the kitchen from the rear, where an old man and two old women -were sitting with short pipes alight, he cried, "What's the world comin' -to at all? I've got to put on me boots." - -"Holy Saint Bridget," cried a pious old woman, "he's to put on his -brogues! An' is it The Mac has bid ye, Eugene?" - -"Sorra a sowl ilse. So just shake a coal in iviry fut to thaw thim a -bit, alana." - -While the old woman was performing this operation over the turf fire, -there was some discussion as to what was the nature of the circumstances -that demanded such an unusual proceeding on the part of The Macnamara. - -"It's only The Mac himsilf that sames to know--. knock the ashes well -about the hale, ma'am--for Masther Standish was as much put out as -mesilf whin The Mac says--nivir moind the toes, ma'am, me fut'll nivir -go more nor halfways up the sowl--says he, 'Git on yer boots;' as if it -was the ordinarist thing in the world;--now I'll thry an' squaze me fut -in." And he took the immense boot so soon as the fiery ashes had been -emptied from its cavity. - -"The Mac's pride'll have a fall," remarked the old man in the corner -sagaciously. - -"I shouldn't wondher," said Eugene, pulling on one of the boots. -"The spring is patched with hemp, but it's as loikely to give way as -not--holy Biddy, ye've left a hot coal just at the instep that's made -its way to me bone!" But in spite of this catastrophe, the boy trudged -off to the car, his coat's tails flapping like the foresail of a yacht -brought up to the wind. Then he cautiously mounted his seat in front of -the car, letting a boot protrude effectively on each side of the narrow -board. The Macnamara and his son, who had exchanged no word during the -short absence of Eugene in the kitchen, then took their places, the -horse was aroused from its slumber, and they all passed down the long -dilapidated avenue and through the broad entrance between the great -mouldering pillars overclung with ivy and strange tangled weeds, where a -gate had once been, but where now only a rough pole was drawn across to -prevent the trespass of strange animals. - -Truly pitiful it was to see such signs of dilapidation everywhere -around this demesne of Innishdermot. The house itself was an immense, -irregularly built, rambling castle. Three-quarters of it was in utter -ruin, but it had needed the combined efforts of eight hundred years of -time and a thousand of Cromwell's soldiers to reduce the walls to the -condition in which they were at present. The five rooms of the building -that were habitable belonged to a comparatively new wing, which was -supported on the eastern side by the gable of a small chapel, and on the -western by the wall of a great round tower which stood like a demolished -sugar-loaf high above all the ruins, and lodged a select number of -immense owls whose eyesight was so extremely sensitive, it required an -unusual amount of darkness for its preservation. - -This was the habitation of The Macnamaras, hereditary kings of Munster, -and here it was that the existing representative of the royal family -lived with his only son, Standish O'Dermot Macnamara. In front of the -pile stretched a park, or rather what had once been a park, but which -was now wild and tangled as any wood. It straggled down to the coastway -of the lough, which, with as many windings as a Norwegian fjord, brought -the green waves of the Atlantic for twenty miles between coasts a -thousand feet in height--coasts which were black and precipitous and -pierced with a hundred mighty caves about the headlands of the entrance, -but which became wooded and more gentle of slope towards the narrow -termination of the basin. The entire of one coastway, from the cliffs -that broke the wild buffet of the ocean rollers, to the little island -that lay at the narrowing of the waters, was the property of The -Macnamara. This was all that had been left to the house which had once -held sway over two hundred miles of coastway, from the kingdom of -Kerry to Achill Island, and a hundred miles of riverway. Pasturages -the richest of the world, lake-lands the most beautiful, mountains the -grandest, woods and moors--all had been ruled over by The Macnamaras, -and of all, only a strip of coastway and a ruined castle remained to -the representative of the ancient house, who was now passing on a -jaunting-car between the dilapidated pillars at the entrance to his -desolate demesne. - -On a small hill that came in sight so soon as the car had passed from -under the gaunt fantastic branches that threw themselves over the -wall at the roadside, as if making a scrambling clutch at something -indefinite in the air, a ruined tower stood out in relief against the -blue sky of this August day. Seeing the ruin in this land of ruins The -Macnamara sighed heavily--too heavily to allow of any one fancying that -his emotion was natural. - -"Ah, my son, the times have changed," he said. "Only a few years have -passed--six hundred or so--since young Brian Macnamara left that very -castle to ask the daughter of the great Desmond of the Lake in marriage. -How did he go out, my boy?" - -"You don't mean that we are now----" - -"How did he go out?" again asked The Macnamara, interrupting his son's -words of astonishment. "He went out of that castle with three hundred -and sixty-five knights--for he had as many knights as there are days -in the year."--Here Eugene, who only caught the phonetic sense of this -remarkable fact regarding young Brian Macnamara, gave a grin, which his -master detected and chastised by a blow from his stick upon the mighty -livery coat. - -"But, father," said Standish, after the trifling excitement occasioned -by this episode had died away--"but, father, we are surely not -going----" - -"Hush, my son. The young Brian and his retinue went out one August day -like this; and with him was the hundred harpers, the fifty pipers, and -the thirteen noble chiefs of the Lakes, all mounted on the finest of -steeds, and the morning sun glittering on their gems and jewels as if -they had been drops of dew. And so they rode to the castle of Desmond, -and when he shut the gates in the face of the noble retinue and sent -out a haughty message that, because the young Prince Brian had slain The -Desmond's two sons, he would not admit him as a suitor to his daughter, -the noble young prince burnt The Desmond's tower to the ground and -carried off the daughter, who, as the bards all agree, was the loveliest -of her sex. Ah, that was a wooing worthy of The Mac-namaras. These -are the degenerate days when a prince of The Macnamaras goes on a -broken-down car to ask the hand of a daughter of the Geralds." Here a -low whistle escaped from Eugene, and he looked down at his boots just as -The Macnamara delivered another rebuke to him of the same nature as the -former. - -"But we're not going to--to--Suanmara!" cried Standish in dismay. - -"Then where are we going, maybe you'll tell me?" said his father. - -"Not there--not there; you never said you were going there. Why should -we go there?" - -"Just for the same reason that your noble forefather Brian Macnamara -went to the tower of The Desmond," said the father, leaving it to -Standish to determine which of the noble acts of the somewhat impetuous -young prince their present excursion was designed to emulate. - -"Do you mean to say, father, that--that--oh, no one could think of such -a thing as----" - -"My son," said the hereditary monarch coolly, "you made a confession -to me this morning that only leaves me one course. The honour of The -Macnamaras is at stake, and as the representative of the family it's -my duty to preserve it untarnished. When a son of mine confesses his -affection for a lady, the only course he can pursue towards her is to -marry her, let her even be a Gerald." - -"I won't go on such a fool's errand," cried the young man. "She--her -grandfather--they would laugh at such a proposal." - -"The Desmond laughed, and what came of it, my boy?" said the Macnamara -sternly. - -"I will not go on any farther," cried Standish, unawed by the reference -to the consequences of the inopportune hilarity of The Desmond. "How -could you think that I would have the presumption to fancy for the least -moment that--that--she--that is--that they would listen to--to anything -I might say? Oh, the idea is absurd!" - -"My boy, I am the head of the line of The Munster Macnamaras, and the -head always decides in delicate matters like this. I'll not have the -feeling's of the lady trifled with even by a son of my own. Didn't you -confess all to me?" - -"I will not go on," the young man cried again. "She--that is--they -will think that we mean an affront--and it is a gross insult to her--to -them--to even fancy that--oh, if we were anything but what we are there -would be some hope--some chance; if I had only been allowed my own way I -might have won her in time--long years perhaps, but still some time. But -now----" - -"Recreant son of a noble house, have you no more spirit than a Saxon?" -said the father, trying to assume a dignified position, an attempt that -the jerking of the imperfect spring of the vehicle frustrated. "Mightn't -the noblest family in Europe think it an honour to be allied with The -Munster Macnamaras, penniless though we are?" - -"Don't go to-day, father," said Standish, almost piteously; "no, not -to-day. It is too sudden--my mind is not made up." - -"But mine is, my boy. Haven't I prepared everything so that there can -be no mistake?"--here he pressed his tall hat more firmly upon -his forehead, and glanced towards Eugene's boots that projected a -considerable way beyond the line of the car. "My boy," he continued, -"The Macnamaras descend to ally themselves with any other family only -for the sake of keeping up the race. It's their solemn duty.' - -"I'll not go on any farther on such an errand--I will not be such a -fool," said Standish, making a movement on his side of the car. - -"My boy," said The Macnamara unconcernedly, "my boy, you can get off -at any moment; your presence will make no difference in the matter. -The matrimonial alliances of The Macnamaras are family matters, not -individual. The head of the race only is accountable to posterity for -the consequences of the acts of them under him. I'm the head of the -race." He removed his hat and looked upward, somewhat jerkily, but still -impressively. - -Standish Macnamara's eyes flashed and his hands clenched themselves over -the rail of the car, but he did not make any attempt to carry out his -threat of getting off. He did not utter another word. How could he? It -was torture to him to hear his father discuss beneath the ear of the boy -Eugene such a question as his confession of love for a certain lady. -It was terrible for him to observe the expression of interest which -was apparent upon the ingenuous face of Eugene, and to see his nods -of approval at the words of The Macnamara. What could poor Standish do -beyond closing his teeth very tightly and clenching his hands madly as -the car jerked its way along the coast of Lough Suangorm, in view of a -portion of the loveliest scenery in the world? - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -```How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable - -```Seem to me all the uses of this world.= - -````Gather by him, as he is behaved, - -````If't be the affliction of his love or no - -````That thus he suffers for.= - -````Break my heart, for I must hold my tongue. - -`````Hamlet.= - - -|THE road upon which the car was driving was made round an elevated part -of the coast of the lough. It curved away from where the castle of The -Macnamaras was situated on one side of the water, to the termination -of the lough. It did not slope downwards in the least at any part, but -swept on to the opposite lofty shore, five hundred feet above the great -rollers from the Atlantic that spent themselves amongst the half-hidden -rocks. - -The car jerked on in silence after The Macnamara had spoken his -impressive sentence. Standish's hands soon relaxed their passionate hold -upon the rail of the car, and, in spite of his consciousness of being -twenty-three years of age, he found it almost impossible to restrain his -tears of mortification from bursting their bonds. He knew how pure--how -fervent--how exhaustless was the love that filled all his heart. He had -been loving, not without hope, but without utterance, for years, and now -all the fruit of his patience--of his years of speechlessness--would be -blighted by the ridiculous action of his father. What would now be left -for him in the world? he asked himself, and the despairing tears of his -heart gave him his only answer. - -He was on the seaward side of the car, which was now passing out of the -green shade of the boughs that for three miles overhung the road. Then -as the curve of the termination of the lough was approached, the full -panorama of sea and coast leapt into view, with all the magical glamour -those wizards Motion and Height can enweave round a scene. Far beneath, -the narrow band of blue water lost itself amongst the steep cliffs. -The double coasts of the lough that were joined at the point of vision, -broadened out in undulating heights towards the mighty headlands of -the entrance, that lifted up their hoary brows as the lion-waves of -the Atlantic leapt between them and crouched in unwieldy bulk at their -bases. Far away stretched that ocean, its horizon lost in mist; and -above the line of rugged coast-cliff arose mountains--mighty masses -tumbled together in black confusion, like Titanic gladiators locked in -the close throes of the wrestle. - -Never before had the familiar scene so taken Standish in its arms, so to -speak, as it did now. He felt it. He looked down at the screen islands -of the lough encircled with the floss of the moving waters; he looked -along the slopes of the coasts with the ruins of ancient days on their -summits, then his eyes went out to where the sun dipped towards the -Atlantic, and he felt no more that passion of mortification which his -reflections had aroused. Quickly as it had sprung into view the scene -dissolved, as the car entered a glen, dim in the shadow of a great -hill whose slope, swathed in purple heather to its highest peak, made a -twilight at noon-day to all beneath. In the distance of the winding -road beyond the dark edge of the mountain were seen the gray ridges of -another range running far inland. With the twilight shadow of the glen, -the shadow seemed to come again over the mind of Standish. He gave -himself up to his own sad thoughts, and when, from a black tarn amongst -the low pine-trees beneath the road, a tall heron rose and fled -silently through the silent air to the foot of the slope, he regarded it -ominously, as he would have done a raven. - -There they sat speechless upon the car. The Macnamara, who was a short, -middle-aged man with a rather highly-coloured face, and features that -not even the most malignant could pronounce of a Roman or even of a -Saxon type, was sitting in silent dignity of which he seemed by no -means unconscious Standish, who was tall, slender almost to a point -of lankness, and gray-eyed, was morosely speechless, his father felt. -Nature had not given The Macnamara a son after his own heart. The young -man's features, that had at one time showed great promise of developing -into the pure Milesian, had not fulfilled the early hope they had raised -in his father's bosom; they had within the past twelve years exhibited -a downward tendency that was not in keeping with the traditions of The -Macnamaras. If the direction of the caressing hand of Nature over -the features of the family should be reversed, what would remain -to distinguish The Macnamaras from their Saxon invaders? This was a -question whose weight had for some time oppressed the representative -of the race; and he could only quiet his apprehension by the assurance -which forced itself upon his mind, that Nature would never persist in -any course prejudicial to her own interests in the maintenance of an -irreproachable type of manhood. - -Then it was a great grief to the father to become aware of the fact that -the speech of Standish was all unlike his own in accent; it was, indeed, -terribly like the ordinary Saxon speech--at least it sounded so to The -Macnamara, whose vowels were diphthongic to a marked degree. But of -course the most distressing reflection of the head of the race had -reference to the mental disqualifications of his son to sustain the -position which he would some day have to occupy as The Macnamara; for -Standish had of late shown a tendency to accept the position accorded -to him by the enemies of his race, and to allow that there existed -a certain unwritten statute of limitations in the maintenance of the -divine right of monarchs. He actually seemed to be under the impression -that because nine hundred years had elapsed since a Macnamara had been -the acknowledged king of Munster, the claim to be regarded as a royal -family should not be strongly urged. This was very terrible to The -Macnamara. And now he reflected upon all these matters as he held in -a fixed and fervent grasp the somewhat untrustworthy rail of the -undoubtedly shaky vehicle. - -Thus in silence the car was driven through the dim glen, until the slope -on the seaward-side of the road dwindled away and once more the sea came -in sight; and, with the first glimpse of the sea, the square tower of -an old, though not an ancient, castle that stood half hidden by trees at -the base of the purple mountain. In a few minutes the car pulled up at -the entrance gate to a walled demesne. - -"Will yer honours git off here?" asked Eugene, preparing to throw the -reins down. - -"Never!" cried The Macnamara emphatically. "Never will the head of the -race descend to walk up to the door of a foreigner. Drive up to the very -hall, Eugene, as the great Brian Macnamara would have done." - -"An' it's hopin' I am that his car-sphrings wouldn't be mindid with -hemp," remarked the boy, as he pulled the horse round and urged his mild -career through the great pillars at the entrance. - -Everything about this place gave signs of having been cared for. The -avenue was long, but it could be traversed without any risk of the -vehicle being lost in the landslip of a rut. The grass around the trees, -though by no means trimmed at the edges, was still not dank with weeds, -and the trees themselves, if old, had none of the gauntness apparent in -all the timber about the castle of The Macnamara. As the car went along -there was visible every now and again the flash of branching antlers -among the green foliage, and more than once the stately head of a red -deer appeared gazing at the visitors, motionless, as if the animal had -been a painted statue. - -The castle, opposite whose black oak door Eugene at last dropped his -reins, was by no means an imposing building. It was large and square, -and at one wing stood the square ivy-covered tower that was seen from -the road. Above it rose the great dark mountain ridge, and in front -rolled the Atlantic, for the trees prevented the shoreway from being -seen. - -"Eugene, knock at the door of the Geralds," said The Macnamara from his -seat on the car, with a dignity the emphasis of which would have been -diminished had he dismounted. - -Eugene--looked upward at this order, shook his head in wonderment, and -then got down, but not with quite the same expedition as his boot, which -could not sustain the severe test of being suspended for any time in the -air. He had not fully secured it again on his bare foot before a laugh -sounded from the balcony over the porch--a laugh that made Standish's -face redder than any rose--that made Eugene glance up with a grin and -touch his hat, even before a girl's voice was heard saying: - -"Oh, Eugene, Eugene! What a clumsy fellow you are, to be sure." - -"Ah, don't be a sayin' of that, Miss Daireen, ma'am," the boy replied, -as he gave a final stamp to secure possession of the boot. - -The Macnamara looked up and gravely removed his hat; but Standish having -got down from the car turned his gaze seawards. Had he followed his -father's example, he would have seen the laughing face and the graceful -figure of a girl leaning over the balustrade of the porch surveying the -group beneath her. - -"And how do you do, Macnamara?" she said. "No, no, don't let Eugene -knock; all the dogs are asleep except King Cormac, and I am too grateful -to allow their rest to be broken. I'll go down and give you entrance." - -She disappeared from the balcony, and in a few moments the hall door -was softly sundered and the western sunlight fell about the form of the -portress. The girl was tall and exquisitely moulded, from her little -blue shoe to her rich brown hair, over which the sun made light and -shade; her face was slightly flushed with her rapid descent and the -quick kiss of the sunlight, and her eyes were of the most gracious gray -that ever shone or laughed or wept. But her mouth--it was a visible -song. It expressed all that song is capable of suggesting--passion of -love or of anger, comfort of hope or of charity. - -"Enter, O my king-," she said, giving The Macnamara her hand; then -turning to Standish, "How do you do, Standish? Why do you not come in?" - -But Standish uttered no word. He took her hand for a second and followed -his father into the big square oaken hall. All were black oak, floor and -wall and ceiling, only while the sunlight leapt through the open door -was the sombre hue relieved by the flashing of the arms that lined the -walls, and the glittering of the enormous elk-antlers that spread their -branches over the lintels. - -"And you drove all round the coast to see me, I hope," said the girl, as -they stood together under the battle-axes of the brave days of old, when -the qualifications for becoming a successful knight and a successful -blacksmith were identical. - -"We drove round to admire the beauty of the lovely Daireen," said The -Macnamara, with a flourish of the hand that did him infinite credit. - -"If that is all," laughed the girl, "your visit will not be a long one." -She was standing listlessly caressing with her hand the coarse hide of -King Corrnac, a gigantic Wolf-dog, and in that posture looked like a -statue of the Genius of her country. The dog had been welcoming Standish -a moment before, and the young man's hand still resting upon its head, -felt the casual touch of the girl's fingers as she played with the -animal's ears. Every touch sent a thrill of passionate delight through -him. - -"The beauty of the daughter of the Geralds is worth coming so far to -see; and now that I look at her before me----" - -"Now you know that it is impossible to make out a single feature in this -darkness," said Daireen. "So come along into the drawing-room." - -"Go with the lovely Daireen, my boy," said The Macnamara, as the girl -led the way across the hall. "For myself, I think I'll just turn in -here." He opened a door at one side of the hall and exposed to view, -within the room beyond, a piece of ancient furniture which was not yet -too decrepit to sustain the burden of a row of square glass bottles -and tumblers. But before he entered he whispered to Standish with an -appropriate action, "Make it all right with her by the time come I -back." And so he vanished. - -"The Macnamara is right," said Daireen. "You must join him in taking a -glass of wine after your long drive, Standish." - -For the first time since he had spoken on the car Standish found his -voice. - -"I do not want to drink anything, Daireen," he said. - -"Then we shall go round to the garden and try to find grandpapa, if you -don't want to rest." - -With her brown unbonneted hair tossing in its irregular strands about -her neck, she went out by a door at the farther end of the square hall, -and Standish followed her by a high-arched passage that seemed to lead -right through the building. At the extremity was an iron gate which the -girl unlocked, and they passed into a large garden somewhat wild in its -growth, but with its few brilliant spots of colour well brought out -by the general _feeling_ of purple that forced itself upon every one -beneath the shadow of the great mountain-peak. Very lovely did that -world of heather seem now as the sun burned over against the slope, -stirring up the wonderful secret hues of dark blue and crimson. The peak -stood out in bold relief against the pale sky, and above its highest -point an eagle sailed. - -"I have such good news for you, Standish," said Miss Gerald. "You cannot -guess what it is." - -"I cannot guess what good news there could possibly be in store for -me," he replied, with so much sadness in his voice that the girl gave a -little start, and then the least possible smile, for she was well aware -that the luxury of sadness was frequently indulged in by her companion. - -"It is good news for you, for me, for all of us, for all the world, -for--well, for everybody that I have not included. Don't laugh at me, -please, for my news is that papa is coming home at last. Now, isn't that -good news?" - -"I am very glad to hear it," said Standish. "I am very glad because I -know it will make you happy." - -"How nicely said; and I know you feel it, my dear Standish. Ah, poor -papa! he has had a hard time of it, battling with the terrible Indian -climate and with those annoying people." - -"It is a life worth living," cried Standish. "After you are dead the -world feels that you have lived in it. The world is the better for your -life." - -"You are right," said Daireen. "Papa leaves India crowned with honours, -as the newspapers say. The Queen has made him a C.B., you know. -But--only think how provoking it is--he has been ordered by the surgeon -of his regiment to return by long-sea, instead of overland, for the sake -of his health; so that though I got his letter from Madras yesterday to -tell me that he was at the point of starting, it will be another month -before I can see him." - -"But then he will no doubt have completely recovered," said Standish. - -"That is my only consolation. Yes; he will be himself again--himself as -I saw him five years ago in our bungalow--how well I remember it and its -single plantain-tree in the garden where the officers used to hunt me -for kisses." - -Standish frowned. It was, to him, a hideous recollection for the girl to -have. He would cheerfully have undertaken the strangulation of each -of those sportive officers. "I should have learned a great deal during -these five years that have passed since I was sent to England to school, -but I'm afraid I didn't. Never mind, papa won't cross-examine me to see -if his money has been wasted. But why do you look so sad, Standish? You -do look sad, you know." - -"I feel it too," he cried. "I feel more wretched than I can tell you. -I'm sick of everything here--no, not here, you know, but at home. There -I am in that cursed jail, shut out from the world, a beggar without the -liberty to beg." - -"Oh, Standish!" - -"But it is the truth, Daireen. I might as well be dead as living as I -am. Yes, better--I wish to God I was dead, for then there might be at -least some chance of making a beginning in a new sort of life under -different conditions." - -"Isn't it wicked to talk that way, Standish?" - -"I don't know," he replied doggedly. "Wickedness and goodness have -ceased to be anything more to me than vague conditions of life in a -world I have nothing to say to. I cannot be either good or bad here." - -Daireen looked very solemn at this confession of impotence. - -"You told me you meant to speak to The Mac-namara about going away or -doing something," she said. - -"And I did speak to him, but it came to the one end: it was a disgrace -for the son of the------ bah, you know how he talks. Every person of any -position laughs at him; only those worse than himself think that he -is wronged. But I'll do something, if it should only be to enlist as a -common soldier." - -"Standish, do not talk that way, like a good boy," she said, laying her -hand upon his arm. "I have a bright thought for the first time: wait -just for another month until papa is here, and he will, you may be sure, -tell you what is exactly right to do. Oh, there is grandpapa, with his -gun as usual, coming from the hill." - -They saw at a little distance the figure of a tall old man carrying a -gun, and followed by a couple of sporting dogs. - -"Daireen," said Standish, stopping suddenly as if a thought had just -struck him. "Daireen, promise me that you will not let anything my -father may say here to-day make you think badly of me." - -"Good gracious! why should I ever do that? What is he going to say that -is so dreadful?" - -"I cannot tell you, Daireen; but you will promise me;" he had seized -her by the hand and was looking with earnest entreaty into her eyes. -"Daireen," he continued, "you will give me your word. You have been such -a friend to me always--such a good angel to me." - -"And we shall always be friends, Standish. I promise you this. Now let -go my hand, like a good boy." - -He obeyed her, and in a few minutes they had met Daireen's grandfather, -Mr. Gerald, who had been coming towards them. - -"What, The Macnamara here? then I must hasten to him," said the old -gentleman, handing his gun to Standish. - -No one knew better than Mr. Gerald the necessity that existed for -hastening to The Macnamara, in case of his waiting for a length of time -in that room the sideboard of which was laden with bottles. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -```And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? - -```You told us of some suit: what is't, Laertes?= - -```He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow' leave - -```By laboursome petition; and at last, - -```Upon his will I sealed my hard consent.= - -```Horatio. There's no offence, my lord. - -```Hamlet. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio, - -```And much offence too. - -`````--Hamlet.= - - -|THE Macnamara had been led away from his companionship in that old oak -room by the time his son and Miss Gerald returned from the garden, -and the consciousness of his own dignity seemed to have increased -considerably since they had left him. This emotion was a variable -possession with him: any one acquainted with his habits could without -difficulty, from knowing the degree of dignity he manifested at any -moment, calculate minutely the space of time, he must of necessity have -spent in a room furnished similarly to that he had just now left. - -He was talking pretty loudly in the room to which he had been led by -Mr. Gerald when Daireen and Standish entered; and beside him was a -whitehaired old lady whom Standish greeted as Mrs. Gerald and the girl -called grandmamma--an old lady with very white hair but with large dark -eyes whose lustre remained yet undimmed. - -"Standish will reveal the mystery," said this old lady, as the young -man shook hands with her. "Your father has been speaking in proverbs, -Standish, and we want your assistance to read them." - -"He is my son," said The Macnamara, waving his hand proudly and lifting -up his head. "He will hear his father speak on his behalf. Head of the -Geralds, Gerald-na-Tor, chief of the hills, the last of The Macnamaras, -king's of Munster, Innishdermot, and all islands, comes to you." - -"And I am honoured by his visit, and glad to find him looking so well." -said Mr. Gerald. "I am only sorry you can't make it suit you to come -oftener, Macnamara." - -"It's that boy Eugene that's at fault," said The Macnamara, dropping so -suddenly into a colloquial speech from his eloquent Ossianic strain -that one might have been led to believe his opening words were somewhat -forced. "Yes, my lad," he continued, addressing Mr. Gerald; "that Eugene -is either breaking the springs or the straps or his own bones." Here -he recollected that his mission was not one to be expressed in this -ordinary vein. He straightened himself in an instant, and as he went on -asserted even more dignity than before. "Gerald, you know my position, -don't you? and you know your 'own; but you can't say, can you, that The -Macnamara ever held himself aloof from your table by any show of pride? -I mixed with you as if we were equals." - -Again he waved his hand patronisingly, but no one showed the least sign -of laughter. Standish was in front of one of the windows leaning his -head upon his hand as he looked out to the misty ocean. "Yes, I've -treated you at all times as if you had been born of the land, though -this ground we tread on this moment was torn from the grasp of The -Macnamaras by fraud." - -"True, true--six hundred years ago," remarked Mr. Gerald. He had been -so frequently reminded of this fact during his acquaintance with The -Macnamara, he could afford to make the concession he now did. - -"But I've not let that rankle in my heart," continued The Macnamara; -"I've descended to break bread with you and to drink--drink water with -you--ay, at times. You know my son too, and you know that if he's not -the same as his father to the backbone, it's not his father that's -to blame for it. It was the last wish of his poor mother--rest her -soul!--that he should be schooled outside our country, and you know that -I carried out her will, though it cost me dear. He's been back these -four years, as you know--what's he looking out at at the window?--but -it's only three since he found out the pearl of the Lough Suangorm--the -diamond of Slieve Docas--the beautiful daughter of the Geralds. Ay, he -confessed to me this morning where his soft heart had turned, poor -boy. Don't be blushing, Standish; the blood of the Macnamaras shouldn't -betray itself in their cheeks." - -Standish had started away from the window before his father had ended; -his hands were clenched, and his cheeks were burning with shame. He -could not fail to see the frown that was settling down upon the face of -Mr. Gerald. But he dared not even glance towards Daireen. - -"My dear Macnamara, we needn't talk on this subject any farther just -now," said the girl's grandfather, as the orator paused for an instant. - -But The Macnamara only gave his hand another wave before he proceeded. -"I have promised my boy to make him happy," he said, "and you know what -the word of a Macnamara is worth even to his son; so, though I confess -I was taken aback at first, yet I at last consented to throw over my -natural family pride and to let my boy have his way. An alliance between -the Macnamaras and the Geralds is not what would have been thought about -a few years ago, but The Macnamaras have always been condescending." - -"Yes, yes, you condescend to a jest now and again with us, but really -this is a sort of mystery I have no clue to," said Mr. Gerald. - -"Mystery? Ay, it will astonish the world to know that The Macnamara -has given his consent to such an alliance; it must be kept secret for -a while for fear of its effects upon the foreign States that have their -eyes upon all our steps. I wouldn't like this made a State affair at -all." - -"My dear Macnamara, you are usually very lucid," said Mr. Gerald, "but -to-day I somehow cannot arrive at your meaning." - -"What, sir?" cried The Macnamara, giving his head an angry twitch. -"What, sir, do you mean to tell me that you don't understand that I -have given my consent to my son taking as his wife the daughter of the -Geralds?--see how the lovely Daireen blushes like a rose." - -Daireen was certainly blushing, as she left her seat and went over to -the farthest end of the room. But Standish was deadly pale, his lips -tightly closed. - -"Macnamara, this is absurd--quite absurd!" said Mr. Gerald, hastily -rising. "Pray let us talk no more in such a strain." - -Then The Macnamara's consciousness of his own dignity asserted itself. -He drew himself up and threw back his head. "Sir, do you mean to put -an affront upon the one who has left his proper station to raise your -family to his own level?" - -"Don't let us quarrel, Macnamara; you know how highly I esteem you -personally, and you know that I have ever looked upon the family of the -Macnamaras as the noblest in the land." - -"And it is the noblest in the land. There's not a drop of blood in our -veins that hasn't sprung from the heart of a king," cried The Macnamara. - -"Yes, yes, I know it; but--well, we will not talk any further to-day. -Daireen, you needn't go away." - -"Heavens! do you mean to say that I haven't spoken plainly enough, -that----" - -"Now, Macnamara, I must really interrupt you----" - -"Must you?" cried the representative of the ancient line, his face -developing all the secret resources of redness it possessed. "Must you -interrupt the hereditary monarch of the country where you're but an -immigrant when he descends to equalise himself with you? This is the -reward of condescension! Enough, sir, you have affronted the family that -were living in castles when your forefathers were like beasts in caves. -The offer of an alliance ought to have come from you, not from me; but -never again will it be said that The Macnamara forgot what was due to -him and his family. No, by the powers, Gerald, you'll never have the -chance again. I scorn you; I reject your alliance. The Macnamara seats -himself once more upon his ancient throne, and he tramples upon you all. -Come, my son, look at him that has insulted your family--look at him for -the last time and lift up your head." - -The grandeur with which The Macnamara uttered this speech was -overpowering. He had at its conclusion turned towards poor Standish, and -waved his hand in the direction of Mr. Gerald. Then Standish seemed to -have recovered himself. - -"No, father, it is you who have insulted this family by talking as you -have done," he cried passionately. - -"Boy!" shouted The Macnamara. "Recreant son of a noble race, don't -demean yourself with such language!" - -"It is you who have demeaned our family," cried the son still more -energetically. "You have sunk us even lower than we were before." Then -he turned imploringly towards Mr. Gerald. "You know--you know that I am -only to be pitied, not blamed, for my father's words," he said quietly, -and then went to the door. - -"My dear boy," said the old lady, hastening towards him. - -"Madam!" cried The Macnamara, raising his arm majestically to stay her. - -She stopped in the centre of the room. Daireen had also risen, her pure -eyes full of tears as she grasped her grandfather's hand while he laid -his other upon her head. - -From the door Standish looked with passionate gratitude back to the -girl, then rushed out. - -But The Macnamara stood for some moments with his head elevated, the -better to express the scorn that was in his heart. No one made a motion, -and then he stalked after his son. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -```What advancement may I hope from thee - -```That no revenue hast... - -```To feed and clothe thee?= - -``Guildenstern. The King, sir,-- - -``Hamlet. Ay, sir, what of him? - -``Guild. Is in his retirement marvellous distempered. - -``Hamlet. With drink, sir? - -``Guild. No, my lord, rather with choler. - -``Hamlet. The King doth wake to-night and takes his - -`````rouse. - -``Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels.= - -```Horatio. Is it a custom? - -```Hamlet. Ay, marry is't: - -``But to my mind, though I am native here, - -``And to the manner born, it is a custom - -``More honour'd in the breach than the observance. - -``This heavy-headed revel... - -``Makes us traduced and taxed.--Hamlet.= - - -|TO do The Macnamara justice, while he was driving homeward upon that -very shaky car round the lovely coast, he was somewhat disturbed in mind -as he reflected upon the possible consequences of his quarrel with -old Mr. Gerald. He was dimly conscious of the truth of the worldly and -undeniably selfish maxim referring to the awkwardness of a quarrel with -a neighbour. And if there is any truth in it as a general maxim, its -value is certainly intensified when the neighbour in question has been -the lender of sundry sums of money. A neighbour under these conditions -should not be quarrelled with, he knew. - -The Macnamara had borrowed from Mr. Gerald, at various times, certain -moneys which had amounted in the aggregate to a considerable sum; for -though Daireen's grandfather was not possessed of a very large income -from the land that had been granted to his ancestors some few hundred -years before, he had still enough to enable him from time to time -to oblige The Macnamara with a loan. And this reflection caused The -Macnamara about as much mental uneasiness as the irregular motion of the -vehicle did physical discomfort. By the time, however, that the great -hill, whose heather slope was now wrapped in the purple shade of -twilight, its highest peak alone being bathed in the red glory of the -sunset, was passed, his mind was almost at ease; for he recalled the -fact that his misunderstandings with Mr. Gerald were exactly equal in -number to his visits; he never passed an hour at Suanmara without what -would at any rate have been a quarrel but for Mr. Gerald's good nature, -which refused to be ruffled. And as no reference had ever upon these -occasions been made to his borrowings, The Macnamara felt that he had -no reason to conclude that his present quarrel would become embarrassing -through any action of Mr. Gerald's. So he tried to feel the luxury of -the scorn that he had so powerfully expressed in the room at Suanmara. - -"Mushrooms of a night's growth!" he muttered. "I trampled them beneath -my feet. They may go down on their knees before me now, I'll have -nothing to say to them." Then as the car passed out of the glen and he -saw before him the long shadows of the hills lying amongst the crimson -and yellow flames that swept from the sunset out on the Atlantic, and -streamed between the headlands at the entrance to the lough, he became -more fixed in his resolution. "The son of The Macnamara will never -wed with the daughter of a man that is paid by the oppressors of the -country, no, never!" - -This was an allusion to the fact of Daireen's father being a colonel -in the British army, on service in India. Then exactly between the -headlands the sun went down in a gorgeous mist that was permeated with -the glow of the orb it enveloped. The waters shook and trembled in the -light, but the many islands of the lough remained dark and silent in -the midst of the glow. The Macnamara became more resolute still. He had -almost forgotten that he had ever borrowed a penny from Mr. Gerald. He -turned to where Standish sat silent and almost grim. - -"And you, boy," said the father--"you, that threw your insults in my -face--you, that's a disgrace to the family--I've made up my mind what -I'll do with you; I'll--yes, by the powers, I'll disinherit you." - -But not a word did Standish utter in reply to this threat, the force of -which, coupled with an expressive motion of the speaker, jeopardised the -imperfect spring, and wrung from Eugene a sudden exclamation. - -"Holy mother o' Saint Malachi, kape the sthring from breakin' yit -awhile!" he cried devoutly. - -And it seemed that the driver's devotion was efficacious, for, without -any accident, the car reached the entrance to Innishdermot, as the -residence of the ancient monarchs had been called since the days when -the waters of Lough Suangorm had flowed all about the castle slope, for -even the lough had become reduced in strength. - -The twilight, rich and blue, was now swathing the mountains and -overshadowing the distant cliffs, though the waters at their base were -steel gray and full of light that seemed to shine upwards through their -depth. Desolate, truly, the ruins loomed through the dimness. Only -a single feeble light glimmered from one of the panes, and even this -seemed agonising to the owls, for they moaned wildly and continuously -from the round tower. There was, indeed, scarcely an aspect of welcome -in anything that surrounded this home which one family had occupied for -seven hundred years. - -As the car stopped at the door, however, there came a voice from -an unseen figure, saying, in even a more pronounced accent than The -Macnamara himself gloried in, "Wilcome, ye noble sonns of noble soyers! -Wilcome back to the anshent home of the gloryous race that'll stand -whoile there's a sod of the land to bear it." - -"It's The Randal himself," said The Macnamara, looking in the direction -from which the sound came. "And where is it that you are, Randal? Oh, I -see your pipe shining like a star out of the ivy." - -From the forest of ivy that clung about the porch of the castle the -figure of a small man emerged. One of his hands was in his pocket, the -other removed a short black pipe, the length of whose stem in comparison -to the breadth of its bowl was as the proportion of Falstaff's bread to -his sack. - -"Wilcome back, Macnamara," said this gentleman, who was indeed The -Randal, hereditary chief of Suangorm. "An' Standish too, how are ye, my -boy?" Standish shook hands with the speaker, but did not utter a word. -"An' where is it ye're afther dhrivin' from?" continued The Randal. - -"It's a long drive and a long story," said The Macnamara. - -"Thin for hivin's sake don't begin it till we've put boy the dinner. I'm -goin' to take share with ye this day, and I'm afther waitin' an hour and -more." - -"It's welcome The Randal is every day in the week," said The Macnamara, -leading the way into the great dilapidated hall, where in the ancient -days fifty men-at-arms had been wont to feast royally. Now it was black -in night. - -In the room where the dinner was laid there were but two candles, and -their feeble glimmer availed no more than to make the blotches on the -cloth more apparent: the maps of the British Isles done in mustard and -gravy were numerous. At each end a huge black bottle stood like a sentry -at the border of a snowfield. - -By far the greater portion of the light was supplied by the blazing log -in the fireplace. It lay not in any grate but upon the bare hearth, and -crackled and roared up the chimney like a demon prostrate in torture. -The Randal and his host stood before the blaze, while Standish seated -himself in another part of the room. The ruddy flicker of the wood -fire shone upon the faces of the two men, and the yellow glimmer of -the candle upon the face of Standish. Here and there a polish upon the -surface of the black oak panelling gleamed, but all the rest of the high -room was dim. - -Salmon from the lough, venison from the forest, wild birds from the moor -made up the dinner. All were served on silver dishes strangely worked, -and plates of the same metal were laid before the diners, while horns -mounted on massive stands were the drinking vessels. From these dishes -The Macnamaras of the past had eaten, and from these horns they had -drunken, and though the present head of the family could have gained -many years' income had he given the metal to be melted, he had never -for an instant thought of taking such a step. He would have starved with -that plate empty in front of him sooner than have sold it to buy bread. - -Standish spoke no word during the entire meal, and the guest saw that -something had gone wrong; so with his native tact he chatted away, -asking questions, but waiting for no answer. - -When the table was cleared and the old serving-woman had brought in a -broken black kettle of boiling water, and had laid in the centre of the -table an immense silver bowl for the brewing of the punch, The Randal -drew up the remnant of his collar and said: "Now for the sthory of the -droive, Macnamara; I'm riddy whin ye fill the bowl." - -Standish rose from the table and walked away to a seat at the furthest -end of the great room, where he sat hidden in the gloom of the corner. -The Randal did not think it inconsistent with his chieftainship to wink -at his host. - -"Randal," said The Macnamara, "I've made up my mind. I'll disinherit -that boy, I will." - -"No," cried The Randal eagerly. "Don't spake so loud, man; if this -should git wind through the counthry who knows what might happen? -Disinhirit the boy; ye don't mane it, Macnamara," he continued in an -excited but awe-stricken whisper. - -"But by the powers, I do mean it," cried The Macnamara, who had been -testing the potent elements of the punch. - -"Disinherit me, will you, father?" came the sudden voice of Standish -echoing strangely down the dark room. Then he rose and stood facing -both men at the table, the red glare of the log mixing with the sickly -candlelight upon his face and quivering hands. "Disinherit me?" he said -again, bitterly. "You cannot do that. I wish you could. My inheritance, -what is it? Degradation of family, proud beggary, a life to be wasted -outside the world of life and work, and a death rejoiced over by those -wretches who have lent you money. Disinherit me from all this, if you -can." - -"Holy Saint Malachi, hare the sonn of The Macnamaras talkin' loike a -choild!" cried The Randal. - -"I don't care who hears me," said Standish. "I'm sick of hearing about -my forefathers; no one cares about them nowadays. I wanted years ago to -go out into the world and work." - -"Work--a Macnamara work!" cried The Randal horror-stricken. - -"I told you so," said The Macnamara, in the tone of one who finds sudden -confirmation to the improbable story of some enormity. - -"I wanted to work as a man should to redeem the shame which our life -as it is at present brings upon our family," said the young man -earnestly--almost passionately; "but I was not allowed to do anything -that I wanted. I was kept here in this jail wasting my best years; but -to-day has brought everything to an end. You say you will disinherit me, -father, but I have from this day disinherited myself--I have cast off my -old existence. I begin life from to-day." - -Then he turned away and went out of the room, leaving his father and his -guest in dumb amazement before their punch. It was some minutes before -either could speak. At last The Randal took adraught of the hot spirit, -and shook his head thoughtfully. - -"Poor boy! poor boy! he needs to be looked after till he gets over this -turn," he said. - -"It's all that girl--that Daireen of the Geralds," said The Macnamara. -"I found a paper with poetry on it for her this morning, and when I -forced him he confessed that he was in love with her." - -"D'ye tell me that? And what more did ye do, Mac?" - -"I'll tell you," said the hereditary prince, leaning over the table. - -And he gave his guest all the details of the visit to the Geralds at -length. - -But poor Standish had rushed up the crumbling staircase and was lying -on his bed with his face in his hands. It was only now he seemed to feel -all the shame that had caused his face to be red and pale by turns in -the drawing-room at Suanmara. He lay there in a passion of tears, while -the great owls kept moaning and hooting in the tower just outside his -window, making sympathetic melody to his ears. - -At last he arose and went over to the window and stood gazing out -through the break in the ivy armour of the wall. He gazed over the tops -of the trees growing in a straggling way down the slope to the water's -edge. He could see far away the ocean, whose voice he now and again -heard as the wind bore it around the tower. Thousands of stars glittered -above the water and trembled upon its moving surface. He felt strong -now. He felt that he might never weep again in the world as he had just -wept. Then he turned to another window and sent his eyes out to where -that great peak of Slieve Docas stood out dark and terrible among -the stars. He could not see the house at the base of the hill, but he -clenched his hands as he looked out, saying "Hope." - -It was late before he got into his bed, and it was still later when he -awoke and heard, mingling with the cries of the night-birds, the sound -of hoarse singing that floated upward from the room where he had left -his father and The Randal. The prince and the chief were joining their -voices in a native melody, Standish knew; and he was well aware that -he would not be disturbed by the ascent of either during the night. The -dormitory arrangements of the prince and the chief when they had dined -in company were of the simplest nature. - -Standish went to sleep again, and the ancient rafters, that had heard -the tones of many generations of Macnamaras' voices, trembled for some -hours with the echoes from the room below, while outside the ancient -owls hooted and the ancient sea murmured in its sleep. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -````What imports this song? - -```The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail - -```And you are stay'd for. There; my blessing with thee.= - -```Hamlet. I do not set my life at a pin's fee... - -``It waves me forth again: I'll follow it.= - -```Horatio. What if it tempt you toward the flood?... - -``Look whether he has not changed his colour. - -`````--Hamlet.= - - -|THE sounds of wild harp-music were ascending at even from the depths of -Glenmara. The sun had sunk, and the hues that had been woven round the -west were wasting themselves away on the horizon. The faint shell-pink -had drifted and dwindled far from the place of sunset. The woods of -the slopes looked very dark now that the red glances from the west were -withdrawn from their glossy foliage; but the heather-swathed mountains, -towering through the soft blue air to the dark blue sky, were richly -purple, as though the sunset hues had become entangled amongst the -heather, and had forgotten to fly back to the west that had cast them -forth. - -The little tarn at the foot of the lowest crags was black and still, -waiting for the first star-glimpse, and from its marge came the wild -notes of a harp fitfully swelling and waning; and then arose the still -wilder and more melancholy tones of a man's voice chanting what seemed -like a weird dirge to the fading twilight, and the language was the -Irish Celtic--that language every song of which sounds like a dirge sung -over its own death:--= - -``Why art thou gone from us, White Dove of the Irish - -````woods? - -``Why art thou gone who made all the leaves tremulous with - -````the low voice of love? - -``Love that tarried yet afar, though the fleet swallow had - -````come back to us-- - -``Love that stayed in the far lands though the primrose had - -````cast its gold by the streams-- - -``Love that heard not the voice sent forth from every new-````budded -briar-- - -``This love came only when thou earnest, and rapture thrilled - -````the heart of the green land. - -``Why art thou gone from us, White Dove of the Irish - -````woods?= - -This is a translation of the wild lament that arose in the twilight air -and stirred up the echoes of the rocks. Then the fitful melody of the -harp made an interlude:--= - -``Why art thou gone from us, sweet Linnet of the Irish - -````woods? - -``Why art thou gone from us whose song brought the Spring - -````to our land? - -``Yea, flowers to thy singing arose from the earth in bountiful - -````bloom, - -``And scents of the violet, scents of the hawthorn--all scents - -````of the spring - -``Were wafted about us when thy voice was heard albeit in - -````autumn. - -``All thoughts of the spring--all its hopes woke and breathed - -````through our hearts, - -``Till our souls thrilled with passionate song and the perfume - -````of spring which is love. - -``Why art thou gone from us, sweet Linnet of the Irish - -````woods?= - -Again the chaunter paused and again his harp prolonged the wailing -melody. Then passing into a more sadly soft strain, he continued his -song:--= - -``Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy? - -``Now thou art gone the berry drops from the arbutus, - -``The wind comes in from the ocean with wail and the - -````autumn is sad, - -``The yellow leaves perish, whirled wild whither no one can - -````know. - -``As the crisp leaves are crushed in the woods, so our hearts - -````are crushed at thy parting; - -``As the woods moan for the summer departed, so we mourn - -````that we see thee no more. - -``Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy?= - -Into the twilight the last notes died away, and a lonely heron standing -among the rushes at the edge of the tarn moved his head critically to -one side as if waiting for another song with which to sympathise. But -he was not the only listener. Far up among the purple crags Standish -Macnamara was lying looking out to the sunset when he heard the sound of -the chant in the glen beneath him. He lay silent while the dirge floated -up the mountain-side and died away among the heather of the peak. But -when the silence of the twilight came once more upon the glen, Standish -arose and made his way downwards to where an old man with one of the -small ancient Irish harps, was seated on a stone, his head bent across -the strings upon which his fingers still rested. Standish knew him to be -one Murrough O'Brian, a descendant of the bards of the country, and -an old retainer of the Gerald family. A man learned in Irish, but not -speaking an intelligible sentence in English. - -"Why do you sing the Dirge of Tuathal on this evening, Murrough?" he -asked in his native tongue, as he came beside the old man. - -"What else is there left for me to sing at this time, Standish O'Dermot -Macnamara, son of the Prince of Islands and all Munster?" said the bard. -"There is nothing of joy left us now. We cannot sing except in sorrow. -Does not the land seem to have sympathy with such songs, prolonging -their sound by its own voice from every glen and mountain-face?" - -"It is true," said Standish. "As I sat up among the cliffs of heather -it seemed to me that the melody was made by the spirits of the glen -bewailing in the twilight the departure of the glory of our land." - -"See how desolate is all around us here," said the bard. "Glenmara is -lonely now, where it was wont to be gay with song and laughter; when the -nobles thronged the valley with hawk and hound, the voice of the bugle -and the melody of a hundred harps were heard stirring up the echoes in -delight." - -"But now all are gone; they can only be recalled in vain dreams," said -the second in this duet of Celtic mourners--the younger Marius among the -ruins. - -"The sons of Erin have left her in her loneliness while the world is -stirred with their brave actions," continued the ancient bard. - -"True," cried Standish; "outside is the world that needs Irish hands -and hearts to make it better worth living in." The young man was so -enthusiastic in the utterance of his part in the dialogue as to cause -the bard to look suddenly up. - -"Yes, the hands and the hearts of the Irish have done much," he said. -"Let the men go out into the world for a while, but let our daughters be -spared to us." - -Standish gave a little start and looked inquiringly into the face of the -bard. - -"What do you mean, Murrough?" he asked slowly. - -The bard leant forward as if straining to catch some distant sound. - -"Listen to it, listen to it," he said. There was a pause, and through -the silence the moan of the far-off ocean was borne along the dim glen. - -"It is the sound of the Atlantic," said Standish. "The breeze from the -west carries it to us up from the lough." - -"Listen to it and think that she is out on that far ocean," said the old -man. "Listen to it, and think that Daireen, daughter of the Geralds, has -left her Irish home and is now tossing upon that ocean; gone is she, the -bright bird of the South--gone from those her smile lightened!" - -Standish neither started nor uttered a word when the old man had spoken; -but he felt his feet give way under him. He sat down upon a crag and -laid his head upon his hand staring into the black tarn. He could not -comprehend at first the force of the words "She is gone." He had thought -of his own departure, but the possibility of Daireen's had not occurred -to him. The meaning of the bard's lament was now apparent to him, and -even now the melody seemed to be given back by the rocks that had heard -it: - -Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy? - -The words moaned through the dim air with the sound of the distant -waters for accompaniment. - -"Gone--gone--Daireen," he whispered. "And you only tell me of it now," -he added almost fiercely to the old man, for he reflected upon the time -he had wasted in that duet of lamentation over the ruins of his country. -What a wretchedly trivial thing he felt was the condition of the country -compared with such an event as the departure of Daireen Gerald. - -"It is only since morning that she is gone," said the bard. "It was only -in the morning that the letter arrived to tell her that her father was -lying in a fever at some place where the vessel called on the way home. -And now she is gone from us, perhaps for ever." - -"Murrough," said the young man, laying his hand upon the other's arm, -and speaking in a hoarse whisper. "Tell me all about her. Why did they -allow her to go? Where is she gone? Not out to where her father was -landed?" - -"Why not there?" cried the old man, raising his head proudly. "Did a -Gerald ever shrink from duty when the hour came? Brave girl she is, -worthy to be a Gerald!" - -"Tell me all--all." - -"What more is there to tell than what is bound up in those three words -'She is gone'?" said the man. "The letter came to her grandfather and -she saw him read it--I was in the hall--she saw his hand tremble. She -stood up there beside him and asked him what was in the letter; he -looked into her face and put the letter in her hand. I saw her face grow -pale as she read it. Then she sat down for a minute, but no word or -cry came from her until she looked up to the old man's face; then she -clasped her hands and said only, 'I will go to him.' The old people -talked to her of the distance, of the danger; they told her how she -would be alone for days and nights among strangers; but she only -repeated, 'I will go to him.' And now she is gone--gone alone over those -waters." - -"Alone!" Standish repeated. "Gone away alone, no friend near her, none -to utter a word of comfort in her ears!" He buried his face in his hands -as he pictured the girl whom he had loved silently, but with all his -soul, since she had come to her home in Ireland from India where she -had lived with her father since the death of his wife ten years ago. He -pictured her sitting in her loneliness aboard the ship that was bearing -her away to, perhaps, the land of her father's grave, and he felt that -now at last all the bitterness that could be crowded upon his life had -fallen on him. He gazed into the black tarn, and saw within its depths a -star glittering as it glittered in the sky above, but it did not relieve -his thoughts with any touch of its gold. - -He rose after a while and gave his hand to Murrough. - -"Thank you," he said. "You have told me all better than any one else -could have done. But did she not speak of me, Murrough--only once -perhaps? Did she not send me one little word of farewell?" - -"She gave me this for you," said the old bard, producing a letter which -Standish clutched almost wildly. - -"Thank God, thank God!" he cried, hurrying away without another word. -But after him swept the sound of the bard's lament which he commenced -anew, with that query: - -Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy? - -It was not yet too dark outside the glen for Standish to read the letter -which he had just received; and so soon as he found himself in sight of -the sea he tore open the cover and read the few lines Daireen Gerald had -written, with a tremulous hand, to say farewell to him. - -"My father has been left ill with fever at the Cape, and I know that he -will recover only if I go to him. I am going away to-day, for the -steamer will leave Southampton in four days, and I cannot be there in -time unless I start at once. I thought you would not like me to go -without saying good-bye, and God bless you, dear Standish." - -"You will say good-bye to The Macnamara for me. I thought poor papa -would be here to give you the advice you want. Pray to God that I may be -in time to see him." - -He read the lines by the gray light reflected from the sea--he read them -until his eyes were dim. - -"Brave, glorious girl!" he cried. "But to think of her--alone--alone -out there, while I---- oh, what a poor weak fool I am! Here am I--here, -looking out to the sea she is gone to battle with! Oh, God! oh, God! I -must do something for her--I must--but what--what?" - -He cast himself down upon the heather that crawled from the slopes -even to the road, and there he lay with his head buried in agony at the -thought of his own impotence; while through the dark glen floated the -wild, weird strain of the lament: - -"Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy?" - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -```Hamlet. How chances it they travel? their residence, - -``both in reputation and profit, was better both ways. - -```Rosencrantz. I think their inhibition comes by the means - -``of the late innovation.= - -``Many, wearing rapiers, are afraid of goose-quills. - -``What imports the nomination of this gentleman? - -`````Hamlet.= - - -|AWAY from the glens and the heather-clad mountains, from the blue -loughs and their islands of arbutus, from the harp-music, and from the -ocean-music which makes those who hear it ripe for revolt; away from the -land whose life is the memory of ancient deeds of nobleness; away from -the land that has given birth to more heroes than any nation in the -world, the land whose inhabitants live in thousands in squalor and look -out from mud windows upon the most glorious scenery in the world; away -from all these one must now be borne. - -Upon the evening of the fourth day after the chanting of that lament -by the bard O'Brian from the depths of Glenmara, the good steamship -_Cardwell Castle_ was making its way down Channel with a full cargo and -heavy mails for Madeira, St. Helena, and the Cape. It had left its port -but a few hours and already the coast had become dim with distance. The -red shoreway of the south-west was now so far away that the level rays -of sunlight which swept across the water were not seen to shine upon the -faces of the rocks, or to show where the green fields joined the brown -moorland; the windmills crowning every height were not seen to be in -motion. - -The passengers were for the most part very cheerful, as passengers -generally are during the first couple of hours of a voyage, when only -the gentle ripples of the Channel lap the sides of the vessel. The old -voyagers, who had thought it prudent to dine off a piece of sea-biscuit -and a glass of brandy and water, while they watched with grim smiles the -novices trifling with roast pork and apricot-dumplings, were now sitting -in seats they had arranged for themselves in such places as they knew -would be well to leeward for the greater part of the voyage, and here -they smoked their cigars and read their newspapers just as they would be -doing every day for three weeks. To them the phenomenon of the lessening -land was not particularly interesting. The novices were endeavouring to -look as if they had been used to knock about the sea all their lives; -they carried their telescopes under their arms quite jauntily, and gave -critical glances aloft every now and again, consulting their pocket -compasses gravely at regular intervals to convince themselves that they -were not being trifled with in the navigation of the vessel. - -Then there were, of course, those who had come aboard with the -determination of learning in three weeks as much seamanship as should -enable them to accept any post of marine responsibility that they might -be called upon to fill in after life. They handled the loose tackle with -a view of determining its exact utility, and endeavoured to trace stray -lines to their source. They placed the captain entirely at his ease -with them by asking him a number of questions regarding the dangers of -boiler-bursting, and the perils of storms; they begged that he would let -them know if there was any truth in the report which had reached them to -the effect that the Atlantic was a very stormy place; and they left him -with the entreaty that in case of any danger arising suddenly he would -at once communicate with them; they then went down to put a few casual -questions to the quartermaster who was at the wheel, and doubtless felt -that they were making most of the people about them cheerful with their -converse. - -Then there were the young ladies who had just completed their education -in England and were now on their way to join their relations abroad. -Having read in the course of their studies of English literature the -poems of the late Samuel Rogers, they were much amazed to find that the -mariners were not leaning over the ship's bulwarks sighing to behold the -sinking of their native land, and that not an individual had climbed the -mast to partake of the ocular banquet with indulging in which the poet -has accredited the sailor. Towards this section the glances of several -male eyes were turned, for most of the young men had roved sufficiently -far to become aware of the fact that the relief of the monotony of a -lengthened voyage is principally dependent on--well, on the relieving -capacities of the young ladies, lately sundered from school and just -commencing their education in the world. - -But far away from the groups that hung about the stern stood a girl -looking over the side of the ship towards the west--towards the sun that -was almost touching the horizon. She heard the laughter of the groups of -girls and the silly questions of the uninformed, but all sounded to her -like the strange voices of a dream; for as she gazed towards the west -she seemed to see a fair landscape of purple slopes and green woods; -the dash of the ripples against the ship's side came to her as the -rustle of the breaking ripples amongst the shells of a blue lough upon -whose surface a number of green islets raised their heads. She saw them -all--every islet, with its moveless I shadow beneath it, and the light -touching the edges of the leaves with red. Daireen Gerald it was who -stood there looking out to the sunset, but seeing in the golden lands of -the west the Irish land she knew so well. - -She remained motionless, with her eyes far away and her heart still -farther, until the red sun had disappeared, and the delicate twilight -change was slipping over the bright gray water. With every change she -seemed to see the shifting of the hues over the heather of Slieve Docas -and the pulsating of the tremulous red light through the foliage of the -deer ground. It was only now that the tears forced themselves into her -eyes, for she had not wept at parting from her grandfather, who had gone -with her from Ireland and had left her aboard the steamer a few hours -before; and while her tears made everything misty to her, the light -laughter of the groups scattered about the quarter-deck sounded in her -ears. It did not come harshly to her, for it seemed to come from a world -in which she had no part. The things about her were as the things of a -dream. The reality in which she was living was that which she saw out in -the west. - -"Come, my dear," said a voice behind her--"Come and walk with me on the -deck. I fancied I had lost you, and you may guess what a state I was in, -after all the promises I made to Mr. Gerald." - -"I was just looking out there, and wondering what they were all doing -at home--at the foot of the dear old mountain," said Daireen, allowing -herself to be led away. - -"That is what most people would call moping, dear," said the lady who -had come up. She was a middle-aged lady with a pleasant face, though her -figure was hardly what a scrupulous painter would choose as a model for -a Nausicaa. - -"Perhaps I was moping, Mrs. Crawford," Daireen replied; "but I feel the -better for it now." - -"My dear, I don't disapprove of moping now and again, though as a habit -it should not be encouraged. I was down in my cabin, and when I came on -deck I couldn't understand where you had disappeared to. I asked the -major, but of course, you know, he was quite oblivious to everything but -the mutiny at Cawnpore, through being beside Doctor Campion." - -"But you have found me, you see, Mrs. Crawford." - -"Yes, thanks to Mr. Glaston; he knew where you had gone; he had been -watching you." Daireen felt her face turning red as she thought of this -Mr. Glaston, whoever he was, with his eyes fixed upon her movements. -"You don't know Mr. Glaston, Daireen?--I shall call you 'Daireen' -of course, though we have only known each other a couple of hours," -continued the lady. "No, of course you don't. Never mind, I'll show -him to you." For the promise of this treat Daireen did not express her -gratitude. She had come to think the most unfavourable things regarding -this Mr. Glaston. Mrs. Crawford, however, did not seem to expect an -acknowledgment. Her chat ran on as briskly as ever. "I shall point him -out to you, but on no account look near him for some time--young men are -so conceited, you know." - -Daireen had heard this peculiarity ascribed to the race before, and -so when her guide, as they walked towards the stern of the vessel, -indicated to her that a young man sitting in a deck-chair smoking a -cigar was Mr. Glaston, she certainly did not do anything that might -possibly increase in Mr. Glaston this dangerous tendency which Mrs. -Crawford had assigned to young men generally. - -"What do you think of him, my dear?" asked Mrs. Crawford, when they had -strolled up the deck once more. - -"Of whom?" inquired Daireen. - -"Good gracious," cried the lady, "are your thoughts still straying? Why, -I mean Mr. Glaston, to be sure. What do you think of him?" - -"I didn't look at him," the girl answered. - -Mrs. Crawford searched the fair face beside her to find out if its -expression agreed with her words, and the scrutiny being satisfactory -she gave a little laugh. "How do you ever mean to know what he is like -if you don't look at him?" she asked. - -Daireen did not stop to explain how she thought it possible that -contentment might exist aboard the steamer even though she remained in -ignorance for ever of Mr. Glaston's qualities; but presently she glanced -along the deck, and saw sitting at graceful ease upon the chair Mrs. -Crawford had indicated, a tall man of apparently a year or two under -thirty. He had black hair which he had allowed to grow long behind, and -a black moustache which gave every indication of having been subjected -to the most careful youthful training. His face would not have been -thought expressive but for his eyes, and the expression that these -organs gave out could hardly be called anything except a neutral one: -they indicated nothing except that nothing was meant to be indicated -by them. No suggestion of passion, feeling, or even thoughtfulness, did -they give; and in fact the only possible result of looking at this face -which some people called expressive, was a feeling that the man himself -was calmly conscious of the fact that some people were in the habit of -calling his face expressive. - -"And what _do_ you think of him now, my dear?" asked Mrs. Crawford, -after Daireen had gratified her by taking that look. - -"I really don't think that I think anything," she answered with a little -laugh. - -"That is the beauty of his face," cried Mrs. Crawford. "It sets one -thinking." - -"But that is not what I said, Mrs. Crawford." - -"You said you did not think you were thinking anything, Daireen; and -that meant, I know, that there was more in his face than you could read -at a first glance. Never mind; every one is set thinking when one sees -Mr. Glaston." - -Daireen had almost become interested in this Mr. Glaston, even though -she could not forget that he had watched her when she did not want to -be watched. She gave another glance towards him, but with no more -profitable conclusion than her previous look had attained. - -"I will tell you all about him, my child," said Mrs. Crawford -confidentially; "but first let us make ourselves comfortable. Dear old -England, there is the last of it for us for some time. Adieu, adieu, -dear old country!" There was not much sentimentality in the stout little -lady's tone, as she looked towards the faint line of mist far astern -that marked the English coast. She sat down with Daireen to the leeward -of the deck-house where she had laid her rugs, and until the tea-bell -rang Daireen had certainly no opportunity for moping. - -Mrs. Crawford told her that this Mr. Glaston was a young man of such -immense capacities that nothing lay outside his grasp either in art or -science. He had not thought it necessary to devote his attention to -any subject in particular; but that, Mrs. Crawford thought, was rather -because there existed no single subject that he considered worthy of an -expenditure of all his energies. As things unfortunately existed, there -was nothing left for him but to get rid of the unbounded resources of -his mind by applying them to a variety of subjects. He had, in fact, -written poetry--never an entire volume of course, but exceedingly clever -pieces that had been published in his college magazine. He was capable -of painting a great picture if he chose, though he had contented himself -with giving ideas to other men who had worked them out through the -medium of pictures. He was one of the most accomplished of musicians; -and if he had not yet produced an opera or composed even a song, -instances were on record of his having performed impromptus that would -undoubtedly have made the fame of a professor. He was the son of a -Colonial Bishop, Mrs. Crawford told Daireen, and though he lived in -England he was still dutiful enough to go out to pay a month's visit to -his father every year. - -"But we must not make him conceited, Daireen," said Mrs. Crawford, -ending her discourse; "we must not, dear; and if he should look over -and see us together this way, he would conclude that we were talking of -him." - -Daireen rose with her instructive companion with an uneasy sense of -feeling that all they could by their combined efforts contribute to the -conceit of a young man who would, upon grounds so slight, come to such a -conclusion as Mrs. Crawford feared he might, would be but trifling. - -Then the tea-bell rang, and all the novices who had enjoyed the roast -pork and dumplings at dinner, descended to make a hearty meal of -buttered toast and banana jelly. The sea air had given them an appetite, -they declared with much merriment. The chief steward, however, being an -experienced man, and knowing that in a few hours the Bay of Biscay -would be entered, did not, from observing the hearty manner in which the -novices were eating, feel uneasy on the matter of the endurance of the -ship's stores. He knew it would be their last meal for some days at -least, and he smiled grimly as he laid down another plate of buttered -toast, and hastened off to send up some more brandy and biscuits to -Major Crawford and Doctor Campion, whose hoarse chuckles called forth -by pleasing reminiscences of Cawnpore were dimly heard from the deck -through the cabin skylight. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -```An hour of quiet shortly shall we see; - -```Till then in patience our proceeding be.= - -```We'll put on those shall praise your excellence - -```And set a double varnish on the fame - -```The Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine together. - -```... I know love is begun by time.= - -```I know him well: he is the brooch indeed - -```And gem of all the nation.= - -````He made confession of you, - -```And gave you such a masterly report - -```For art...'twould be a sight indeed - -```If one could match you. - -`````--Hamlet.= - - -|MRS. Crawford absolutely clung to Daireen all this evening. When the -whist parties were formed in the cabin she brought the girl on deck and -instructed her in some of the matters worth knowing aboard a passenger -ship. - -"On no account bind yourself to any whist set before you look about you: -nothing could be more dangerous," she said confidentially. "Just think -how terrible it would be if you were to join a set now, and afterwards -to find out that it was not the best set. You would simply be ruined. -Besides that, it is better to stay on deck as much as possible during -the first day or two at sea. Now let us go over to the major and -Campion." - -So Daireen found herself borne onward with Mrs. Crawford's arm in her -own to where Major Crawford and Doctor Campion were sitting on their -battered deck-chairs lighting fresh cheroots from the ashes of the -expiring ends. - -"Don't tread on the tumblers, my dear," said the major as his wife -advanced. "And how is Miss Gerald now that we have got under weigh? You -didn't take any of that liquid they insult the Chinese Empire by calling -tea, aboard ship, I hope?" - -"Just a single cup, and very weak," said Mrs. Crawford apologetically. - -"My dear, I thought you were wiser." - -"You will take this chair, Mrs. Crawford?" said Doctor Campion, without -making the least pretence of moving, however. - -"Don't think of such a thing," cried the lady's husband; and to do -Doctor Campion justice, he did not think of such a thing. "Why, you -don't fancy these are our Junkapore days, do you, when Kate came out -to our bungalow, and the boys called her the Sylph? It's a fact, Miss -Gerald; my wife, as your father will tell you, was as slim as a lily. -Ah, dear, dear! Time, they say, takes a lot away from us, but by Jingo, -he's liberal enough in some ways. By Jingo, yes," and the gallant old -man kept shaking his head and chuckling towards his comrade, whose -features could be seen puckered into a grin though he uttered no sound. - -"And stranger still, Miss Gerald," said the lady, "the major was once -looked upon as a polite man, and politer to his wife than to anybody -else. Go and fetch some chairs here, Campion, like a good fellow," she -added to the doctor, who rose slowly and obeyed. - -"That's how my wife takes command of the entire battalion, Miss Gerald," -remarked the major. "Oh, your father will tell you all about her." - -The constant reference to her father by one who was an old friend, came -with a cheering influence to the girl. A terrible question as to what -might be the result of her arrival at the Cape had suggested itself to -her more than once since she had left Ireland; but now the major did not -seem to fancy that there could be any question in the matter. - -When the chairs were brought, and enveloped in karosses, as the old -campaigners called the furs, there arose a chatter of bungalows, and -punkahs, and puggarees, and calapashes, and curries, that was quite -delightful to the girl's ears, especially as from time to time -her father's name would be mentioned in connection with some -elephant-trapping expedition, or, perhaps, a mess joke. - -When at last Daireen found herself alone in the cabin which her -grandfather had managed to secure for her, she did not feel that -loneliness which she thought she should have felt aboard this ship full -of strangers without sympathy for her. - -She stood for a short time in the darkness, looking out of her cabin -port over the long waters, and listening to the sound of the waves -hurrying away from the ship and flapping against its sides, and once -more she thought of the purple mountain and the green Irish Lough. -Then as she moved away from the port her thoughts stretched in another -direction--southward. Her heart was full of hope as she turned in to -her bunk and went quietly asleep just as the first waves of the Bay of -Biscay were making the good steamer a little uneasy, and bringing about -a bitter remorse to those who had made merry over the dumplings and -buttered toast. - -Major Crawford was an officer who had served for a good many years in -India, and had there become acquainted with Daireen's father and mother. -When Mr. Gerald was holding his grandchild in his arms aboard the -steamer saying good-bye, he was surprised by a strange lady coming up to -him and begging to be informed if it was possible that Daireen was the -daughter of Colonel Gerald. In another instant Mr. Gerald was overjoyed -to know that Daireen would be during the entire voyage in the company -of an officer and his wife who were old friends of her father, and had -recognised her from her likeness to her mother, whom they had also known -when she was little older than Daireen. Mr. Gerald left the vessel with -a mind at rest; and that his belief that the girl would be looked after -was well-founded is already known. Daireen was, indeed, in the hands of -a lady who was noted in many parts of the world for her capacities for -taking charge of young ladies. When she was in India her position at -the station was very similiar to that of immigration-agent-general. Fond -matrons in England, who had brought their daughters year after year to -Homburg, Kissingen, and Nice, in the "open" season, and had yet brought -them back in safety--matrons who had even sunk to the low level of -hydropathic hunting-grounds without success, were accustomed to write -pathetic letters to Junkapore and Arradambad conveying to Mrs. Crawford -intelligence of the strange fancy that some of the dear girls had -conceived to visit those parts of the Indian Empire, and begging Mrs. -Crawford to give her valuable advice with regard to the carrying out of -such remarkable freaks. Never in any of these cases had the major's wife -failed. These forlorn hopes took passage to India and found in her a -real friend, with tact, perseverance, and experience. The subalterns -of the station were never allowed to mope in a wretched, companionless -condition; and thus Mrs. Crawford had achieved for herself a -certain fame, which it was her study to maintain. Having herself had -men-children only, she had no personal interests to look after. Her boys -had been swaddled in puggarees, spoon-fed with curry, and nurtured upon -chutney, and had so developed into full-grown Indians ready for the -choicest appointments, and they had succeeded very well indeed. Her -husband had now received a command from the War Office to proceed to -the Cape for the purpose of obtaining evidence on the subject of the -regulation boots to be supplied to troops on active foreign service; -a commission upon this most important subject having been ordered by -a Parliamentary vote. Other officers of experience had been sent to -various of the colonies, and much was expected to result from the -prosecution of their inquiries, the opponents of the Government being -confident that gussets would eventually be allowed to non-commissioned -officers, and back straps to privates. - -Of course Major Crawford could not set out on a mission so important -without the companionship of his wife. Though just at the instant of -Daireen's turning in, the major fancied he might have managed to get -along pretty well even if his partner had been left behind him in -England. He was inclined to snarl in his cabin at nights when his wife -unfolded her plans to him and kept him awake to give his opinion as -to the possibility of the tastes of various young persons becoming -assimilated. To-night the major expressed his indifference as to whether -every single man in the ship's company got married to every single woman -before the end of the voyage, or whether they all went to perdition -singly. He concluded by wishing fervently that they would disappear, -married and single, by a supernatural agency. - -"But think, how gratified poor Gerald would be if the dear girl could -think as I do on this subject," said Mrs. Crawford persistently, -alluding to the matter of certain amalgamation of tastes. At this point, -however, the major expressed himself in words still more vigorous than -he had brought to his aid before, and his wife thought it prudent to get -into her bunk without pursuing any further the question of the possible -gratification of Colonel Gerald at the unanimity of thought existing -between his daughter and Mrs. Crawford. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -```How dangerous is it that this man goes loose... - -```He's loved of the distracted multitude, - -```Who like not in their judgment but their eyes: - -```And where 'tis so the offender's scourge is weigh'd, - -```But never the offence.= - -```Look here upon this picture, and on this.= - -``Thus has he--and many more of the same breed that I know the drossy age -dotes on--only got the tune of the time... a kind of yesty collection -which carries them through and through the most fond and winnowed -opinions; and do but blow them to their trial, the bubbles are -out.--_Hamlet_. - - -|THE uneasy bosom of the Bay of Biscay was throbbing with its customary -emotion beneath the good vessel, when Daireen awoke the next morning to -the sound of creaking timbers and rioting glasses. Above her on the deck -the tramp of a healthy passenger, who wore a pedometer and walked three -miles every morning before breakfast, was heard, now dilating and now -decreasing, as he passed over the cabins. He had almost completed his -second mile, and was putting on a spurt in order to keep himself up to -time; his spurt at the end of the first mile had effectually awakened -all the passengers beneath, who had yet remained undisturbed through the -earlier part of his tramp. - -Mrs. Crawford, looking bright and fresh and good-natured, entered -Daireen's cabin before the girl was ready to leave it. She certainly -seemed determined that the confidence Mr. Gerald had reposed in her with -regard to the care of his granddaughter should not prove to have been -misplaced. - -"I am not going in, my dear," she said as she entered the cabin. "I only -stepped round to see that you were all right this morning. I knew you -would be so, though Robinson the steward tells me that even the little -sea there is on in the bay has been quite sufficient to make about a -dozen vacancies at the breakfast-table. People are such fools when they -come aboard a ship--eating boiled paste and all sorts of things, and -so the sea is grossly misrepresented. Did that dreadfully healthy Mr. -Thompson awake you with his tramping on deck? Of course he did; he's a -dreadful man. If he goes on like this we'll have to petition the captain -to lay down bark on the deck. Now I'll leave you. Come aloft when -you are ready; and, by the way, you must take care what dress you put -on--very great care." - -"Why, I thought that aboard ship one might wear anything," said the -girl. - -"Never was there a greater mistake, my child. People say the same about -going to the seaside: anything will do; but you know how one requires to -be doubly particular there; and it's just the same in our little world -aboard ship." - -"You quite frighten me, Mrs. Crawford," said Daireen. "What advice can -you give me on the subject?" - -Mrs. Crawford was thoughtful. "If you had only had time to prepare -for the voyage, and I had been beside you, everything might have been -different. You must not wear anything pronounced--any distinct colour: -you must find out something undecided--you understand?" - -Daireen looked puzzled. "I'm sorry to say I don't." - -"Oh, you have surely something of pale sage--no, that is a bad tone -for the first days aboard--too like the complexions of most of the -passengers--but, chocolate-gray? ah, that should do: have you anything -in that to do for a morning dress?" - -Daireen was so extremely fortunate as to be possessed of a garment of -the required tone, and her kind friend left her arraying herself in its -folds. - -On going aloft Daireen found the deck occupied by a select few of the -passengers. The healthy gentleman was just increasing his pace for the -final hundred yards of his morning's walk, and Doctor Campion had got -very near the end of his second cheroot, while he sat talking to a -fair-haired and bronze-visaged man with clear gray eyes that had such -a way of looking at things as caused people to fancy he was making -a mental calculation of the cubic measure of everything; and it was -probably the recollection of their peculiarity that made people fancy, -when these eyes looked into a human face, that the mind of the man was -going through a similar calculation with reference to the human object: -one could not avoid feeling that he had a number of formulas for -calculating the intellectual value of people, and that when he looked at -a person he was thinking which formula should be employed for arriving -at a conclusion regarding that person's mental capacity. - -Mrs. Crawford was chatting with the doctor and his companion, but on -Daireen's appearing, she went over to her. - -"Perfect, my child," she said in a whisper--"the tone of the dress, I -mean; it will work wonders." - -While Daireen was reflecting upon the possibility of a suspension of the -laws of nature being the result of the appearance of the chocolate-toned -dress, she was led towards the doctor, who immediately went through a -fiction of rising from his seat as she approached; and one would really -have fancied that he intended getting upon his feet, and was only -restrained at the last moment by a remonstrance of the girl's. Daireen -acknowledged his courtesy, though it was only imaginary, and she was -conscious that his companion had really risen. - -"You haven't made the acquaintance of Miss Gerald, Mr. Harwood?" said -Mrs. Crawford. - -"I have not had the honour," said the man. - -"Let me present you, Daireen. Mr. Harwood--Miss Gerald. Now take great -care what you say to this gentleman, Daireen; he is a dangerous man--the -most dangerous that any one could meet. He is a detective, dear, and -the worst of all--a literary detective; the 'special' of the _Domnant -Trumpeter_." - -Daireen had looked into the man's face while she was being presented to -him, and she knew it was the face of a man who had seen the people of -more than one nation. - -"This is not your first voyage, Miss Gerald, or you would not be on deck -so early?" he said. - -"It certainly is not," she replied. "I was born in India, so that my -first voyage was to England; then I have crossed the Irish Channel -frequently, going to school and returning for the holidays; and I have -also had some long voyages on Lough Suangorm," she added with a little -smile, for she did not think that her companion would be likely to have -heard of the existence of the Irish fjord. - -"Suangorm? then you have had some of the most picturesque voyages one -can make in the course of a day in this world," he said. "Lough Suangorm -is the most wonderful fjord in the world, let me tell you." - -"Then you know it," she cried with a good deal of surprise. "You must -know the dear old lough or you would not talk so." She did not seem to -think that his assertion should imply that he had seen a good many other -fjords also. - -"I think I may say I know it. Yes, from those fine headlands that the -Atlantic beats against, to where the purple slope of that great hill -meets the little road." - -"You know the hill--old Slieve Docas? How strange! I live just at the -foot." - -"I have a sketch of a mansion, taken just there," he said, laughing. "It -is of a dark brown exterior." - -"Exactly." - -"It looks towards the sea." - -"It does indeed." - -"It is exceedingly picturesque." - -"Picturesque?" - -"Well, yes; the house I allude to is very much so. If I recollect -aright, the one window of the wall was not glazed, and the smoke -certainly found its way out through a hole in the roof." - -"Oh, that is too bad," said Daireen. "I had no idea that the -peculiarities of my country people would be known so far away. Please -don't say anything about that sketch to the passengers aboard." - -"I shall never be tempted to allude, even by the 'pronouncing of some -doubtful phrase,' to the--the--peculiarities of your country people, -Miss Gerald," he answered. "It is a lovely country, and contains the -most hospitable people in the world; but their talent does not develop -itself architecturally. Ah! there is the second bell. I hope you have an -appetite." - -"Have you been guarded enough in your conversation, Daireen?" said Mrs. -Crawford, coming up with the doctor, whose rising at the summons of the -breakfast-bell was by no means a fiction. - -"The secrets of the Home Rule Confederation are safe in the keeping of -Miss Gerald," said Mr. Harwood, with a smile which any one could see was -simply the result of his satisfaction at having produced a well-turned -sentence. - -The breakfast-table was very thinly attended, more so even than Robinson -the steward had anticipated when on the previous evening he had laid -down that second plate of buttered toast before the novices. - -Of the young ladies only three appeared at the table, and their -complexions were of the softest amber shade that was ever worked in -satin in the upholstery of mock-medival furniture. Major Crawford had -just come out of the steward's pantry, and he greeted Daireen with all -courtesy, as indeed he did the other young ladies at the table, for the -major was gallant and gay aboard ship. - -After every one had been seated for about ten minutes, the curtain that -screened off one of the cabin entrances from the saloon was moved aside, -and the figure of the young man to whom Mrs. Crawford had alluded as -Mr. Glaston appeared. He came slowly forward, nodding to the captain and -saying good-morning to Mrs. Crawford, while he elevated his eyebrows in -recognition of Mr. Harwood, taking his seat at the table. - -"You can't have an appetite coming directly out of your bunk," said the -doctor. - -"Indeed?" said Mr. Glaston, without the least expression. - -"Quite impossible," said the doctor. "You should have been up an hour -ago at least. Here is Mr. Thompson, who has walked more than three miles -in the open air." - -"Ah," said the other, never moving his eyes to see the modest smile that -spread itself over the features of the exemplary Mr. Thompson. "Ah, I -heard some one who seemed to be going in for that irrepressible thousand -miles in a thousand hours. Yes, bring me a pear and a grape." The last -sentence he addressed to the waiter, who, having been drilled by -the steward on the subject of Mr. Glaston's tastes, did not show any -astonishment at being asked for fruit instead of fish, but hastened off -to procure the grape and the pear. - -While Mr. Glaston was waiting he glanced across the table, and gave -a visible start as his eyes rested upon one of the young ladies--a -pleasant-looking girl wearing a pink dress and having a blue ribbon in -her hair. Mr. Glaston gave a little shudder, and then turned away. - -"That face--ah, where have I beheld it?" muttered Mr. Harwood to the -doctor. - -"Dam puppy!" said the doctor. - -Then the plate and fruit were laid before Mr. Glaston, who said quickly, -"Take them away." The bewildered waiter looked towards his chief and -obeyed, so that Mr. Glaston remained with an empty plate. Robinson -became uneasy. - -"Can I get you anything, sir?--we have three peaches aboard and a -pine-apple," he murmured. - -"Can't touch anything now, Robinson," Mr. Glaston answered. - -"The doctor is right," said Mrs. Crawford. "You have no appetite, Mr. -Glaston." - -"No," he replied; "not _now_," and he gave the least glance towards -the girl in pink, who began to feel that all her school dreams of going -forth into the world of men to conquer and overcome were being realised -beyond her wildest anticipations. - -Then there was a pause at the table, which the good major broke by -suddenly inquiring something of the captain. Mr. Glaston, however, sat -silent, and somewhat sad apparently, until the breakfast was over. - -Daireen went into her cabin for a book, and remained arranging some -volumes on the little shelf for a few minutes. Mr. Glaston was on deck -when she ascended, and he was engaged in a very serious conversation -with Mrs. Crawford. - -"Something must be done. Surely she has a guardian aboard who is not so -utterly lost to everything of truth and right as to allow that to go on -unchecked." - -These words Daireen could make out as she passed the young man and the -major's wife, and the girl began to fear that something terrible was -about to happen. But Mr. Harwood, who was standing above the major's -chair, hastened forward as she appeared. - -"Why, Major Crawford has been telling me that your father is Colonel -Gerald," he said. "Mrs. Crawford never mentioned that fact, thinking -that I should be able to guess it for myself." - -"Did you know papa?" Daireen asked. - -"I met him several times when I was out about the Baroda affair," said -the "special." - -"And as you are his daughter, I suppose it will interest you to know -that he has been selected as the first governor of the Castaways." - -Daireen looked puzzled. "The Castaways?" she said. - -"Yes, Miss Gerald; the lovely Castaway Islands which, you know, have -just been annexed by England. Colonel Gerald has been chosen by the -Colonial Secretary as the first governor." - -"But I heard nothing of this," said Daireen, a little astonished to -receive such information in the Bay of Biscay. - -"How could you hear anything of it? No one outside the Cabinet has the -least idea of it." - -"And you----" said the girl doubtfully. - -"Ah, my dear Miss Gerald, the resources of information possessed by the -_Dominant Trumpeter_ are as unlimited as they are trustworthy. You may -depend upon what I tell you. It is not generally known that I am now -bound for the Castaway group, to make the British public aware of the -extent of the treasure they have acquired in these sunny isles. But I -understood that Colonel Gerald was on his way from Madras?" - -Daireen explained how her father came to be at the Cape, and Mr. Harwood -gave her a few cheering words regarding his sickness. She was greatly -disappointed when their conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Crawford. - -"The poor fellow!" she said--"Mr. Glaston, I mean. I have induced him to -go down and eat some grapes and a pear." - -"Why couldn't he take them at breakfast and not betray his idiocy?" said -Mr. Harwood. - -"Mr. Harwood, you have no sympathy for sufferers from sensitiveness," -replied the lady. "Poor Mr. Glaston! he had an excellent appetite, but -he found it impossible to touch anything the instant he saw that fearful -pink dress with the blue ribbon hanging over it." - -"Poor fellow!" said Mr. Harwood. - -"Dam puppy!" said the doctor. - -"Campion!" cried Mrs. Crawford severely. - -"A thousand pardons! my dear Miss Gerald," said the transgressor. "But -what can a man say when he hears of such puppyism? This is my third -voyage with that young man, and he has been developing into the -full-grown puppy with the greatest rapidity." - -"You have no fine feeling, Campion," said Mrs. Crawford. "You have got -no sympathy for those who are artistically sensitive. But hush! here -is the offending person herself, and with such a hat! Now admit that to -look at her sends a cold shudder through you." - -"I think her a devilish pretty little thing, by gad," said the doctor. - -The young lady with the pink dress and the blue ribbon appeared, wearing -the additional horror of a hat lined with yellow and encircled with -mighty flowers. - -"Something must be done to suppress her," said Mrs. Crawford decisively. -"Surely such people must have a better side to their natures that one -may appeal to." - -"I doubt it, Mrs. Crawford," said Mr. Harwood, with only the least tinge -of sarcasm in his voice. "I admit that one might not have been in -utter despair though the dress was rather aggressive, but I cannot see -anything but depravity in that hat with those floral splendours." - -"But what is to be done?" said the lady. "Mr. Glaston would, no doubt, -advocate making a Jonah of that young person for the sake of saving the -rest of the ship's company. But, however just that might be, I do not -suppose it would be considered strictly legal." - -"Many acts of justice are done that are not legal," replied Harwood -gravely. "From a legal standpoint, Cain was no murderer--his accuser -being witness and also judge. He would leave the court without a stain -on his character nowadays. Meantime, major, suppose we have a smoke on -the bridge." - -"He fancies he has said something clever," remarked Mrs. Crawford when -he had walked away; and it must be confessed that Mr. Harwood had a -suspicion to that effect. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -````His will is not his own; - -```For he himself is subject to his birth: - -```He may not, as unvalued persons do, - -```Carve for himself; for on his choice depends - -```The safety and the health of this whole state, - -```And therefore must his choice be circumscribed - -```Unto the voice and yielding of that body, - -```Whereof he is the head.= - -_Osric_.... Believe me, an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent -differences, of very soft society and great showing; indeed, to speak -feelingly of him, he is the card... of gentry. - -_Hamlet_.... His definement suffers no perdition in you... But, in the -verity of extolment I take him to be a soul of great article.--_Hamlet._ - - -|THE information which Daireen had received on the unimpeachable -authority of the special correspondent of the _Dominant Trumpeter_ was -somewhat puzzling to her at first; but as she reflected upon the fact -hat the position of governor of the newly-acquired Castaway group must -be one of importance, she could not help feeling some happiness; only in -the midmost heart of her joy her recollection clasped a single grief---a -doubt about her father was still clinging to her heart. The letter her -grandfather had received which caused her to make up her mind to set out -for the Cape, merely stated that Colonel Gerald had been found too weak -to continue the homeward voyage in the vessel that had brought him from -India. He had a bad attack of fever, and was not allowed to be moved -from where he lay at the Cape. The girl thought over all of this as she -reflected upon what Mr. Harwood had told her, and looking over the long -restless waters of the Bay of Biscay from her seat far astern, her eyes -became very misty; the unhappy author represented by the yellow-covered -book which she had been reading lay neglected upon her knee. But soon -her brave, hopeful heart took courage, and she began to paint in her -imagination the fairest pictures of the future--a future beneath the -rich blue sky that was alleged by the Ministers who had brought about -the annexation, evermore to overshadow the Castaway group--a future -beneath the purple shadow of the giant Slieve Docas when her father -would have discharged his duties at the Castaways. - -She could not even pretend to herself to be reading the book she had -brought up, so that Mrs. Crawford could not have been accused of an -interruption when she drew her chair alongside the girl's, saying: - -"We must have a little chat together, now that there is a chance for it. -It is really terrible how much time one can fritter away aboard ship. I -have known people take long voyages for the sake of study, and yet never -open a single book but a novel. By the way, what is this the major has -been telling me Harwood says about your father?" - -Daireen repeated all that Harwood had said regarding the new island -colony, and begged Mrs. Crawford to give an opinion as to the -trustworthiness of the information. - -"My dear child," said Mrs. Crawford, "you may depend upon its truth if -Harwood told it to you. The _Dominant Trumpeter_ sends out as many arms -as an octopus, for news, and, like the octopus too, it has the instinct -of only making use of what is worth anything. The Government have been -very good to George--I mean Colonel Gerald--he was always 'George' with -us when he was lieutenant. The Castaway governorship is one of the -nice things they sometimes have to dispose of to the deserving. It was -thought, you know, that George would sell out and get his brevet long -ago, but what he often said to us after your poor mother died convinced -me that he would not accept a quiet life. And so it was Mr. Harwood that -gave you this welcome news," she continued, adding in a thoughtful tone, -"By the way, what do you think of Mr. Harwood?" - -"I really have not thought anything about him," Daireen replied, -wondering if it was indeed a necessity of life aboard ship to be able at -a moment's notice to give a summary of her opinion as to the nature of -every person she might chance to meet. - -"He is a very nice man," said Mrs. Crawford; "only just inclined to be -conceited, don't you think? This is our third voyage with him, so that -we know something of him. One knows more of a person at the end of a -week at sea than after a month ashore. What can be keeping Mr. Glaston -over his pears, I wonder? I meant to have presented him to you before. -Ah, here he comes out of the companion. I asked him to return to me." - -But again Mrs. Crawford's expectations were dashed to the ground. Mr. -Glaston certainly did appear on deck, and showed some sign in a -languid way of walking over to where Mrs. Crawford was sitting, but -unfortunately before he had taken half a dozen steps he caught sight -of that terrible pink dress and the hat with the jaundiced interior. He -stopped short, and a look of martyrdom passed over his face as he turned -and made his way to the bridge in the opposite direction to where -that horror of pronounced tones sat quite unconscious of the agony her -appearance was creating in the aesthetic soul of the young man. - -Daireen having glanced up and seen the look of dismay upon his face, and -the flight of Mr. Glaston, could not avoid laughing outright so soon as -he had disappeared. But Mrs. Crawford did not laugh. On the contrary she -looked very grave. - -"This is terrible--terrible, Daireen," she said. "That vile hat has -driven him away. I knew it must." - -"Matters are getting serious indeed," said the girl, with only the least -touch of mockery in her voice. "If he is not allowed to eat anything at -breakfast in sight of the dress, and he is driven up to the bridge by -a glimpse of the hat, I am afraid that his life will not be quite happy -here." - -"Happy! my dear, you cannot conceive the agonies he endures through his -sensitiveness. I must make the acquaintance of that young person and -try to bring her to see the error of her ways. Oh, how fortunate you had -this chocolate-gray!" - -"I must have thought of it in a moment of inspiration," said Daireen. - -"Come, you really mustn't laugh," said the elder lady reprovingly. "It -was a happy thought, at any rate, and I only hope that you will be able -to sustain its effect by something good at dinner. I must look over your -trunks and tell you what tone is most artistic." - -Daireen began to feel rebellious. - -"My dear Mrs. Crawford, it is very kind of you to offer to take so much -trouble; but, you see, I do not feel it to be a necessity to choose the -shade of my dress solely to please the taste of a gentleman who may not -be absolutely perfect in his ideas." - -Mrs. Crawford laughed. "Do not get angry, my dear," she said. "I admire -your spirit, and I will not attempt to control your own good taste; -you will never, I am sure, sink to such a depth of depravity as is -manifested by that hat." - -"Well, I think you may depend on me so far," said Daireen. - -Shortly afterwards Mrs. Crawford descended to arrange some matters in -her cabin, and Daireen had consequently an opportunity of returning to -her neglected author. - -But before she had made much progress in her study she was again -interrupted, and this time by Doctor Campion, who had been smoking with -Mr. Harwood on the ship's bridge. Doctor Campion was a small man, with -a reddish face upon which a perpetual frown was resting. He had a jerky -way of turning his head as if it was set upon a ratchet wheel only -capable of shifting a tooth at a time. He had been in the army for a -good many years, and had only accepted the post aboard the _Cardwell -Castle_ for the sake of his health. - -"Young cub!" he muttered, as he came up to Daireen. "Infernal young -cub!--I beg your pardon, Miss Gerald, but I really must say it. That -fellow Glaston is getting out of all bounds. Ah, it's his father's -fault--his father's fault. Keeps him dawdling about England without any -employment. Why, it would have been better for him to have taken to the -Church, as they call it, at once, idle though the business is." - -"Surely you have not been wearing an inartistic tie, Doctor Campion?" - -"Inartistic indeed! The puppy has got so much cant on his finger-ends -that weak-minded people think him a genius. Don't you believe it, my -dear; he's a dam puppy--excuse me, but there's really no drawing it mild -here." - -Daireen was amused at the doctor's vehemence, however shocked she may -have been at his manner of getting rid of it. - -"What on earth has happened with Mr. Glaston now?" she asked. "It is -impossible that there could be another obnoxious dress aboard." - -"He hasn't given himself any airs in that direction since," said the -doctor. "But he came up to the bridge where we were smoking, and after -he had talked for a minute with Harwood, he started when he saw a boy -who had been sent up to clean out one of the hencoops--asked if we -didn't think his head marvellously like Carlyle's--was amazed at our -want of judgment--went up to the boy and cross-questioned him--found out -that his father sells vegetables to the Victoria Docks--asked if it had -ever been remarked before that his head was like Carlyle's--boy says -quickly that if the man he means is the tailor in Wapping, anybody that -says his head is like that man's is a liar, and then boy goes quietly -down. 'Wonderful!' says our genius, as he comes over to us; 'wonderful -head--exactly the same as Carlyle's, and language marvellously -similar--brief--earnest--emphatic--full of powah!' Then he goes on -to say he'll take notes of the boy's peculiarities and send them to a -magazine. I couldn't stand any more of that sort of thing, so I left him -with Harwood. Harwood can sift him." - -Daireen laughed at this new story of the young man whose movements -seemed to be regarded as of so much importance by every one aboard the -steamer. She began really to feel interested in this Mr. Glaston; and -she thought that perhaps she might as well be particular about the tone -of the dress she would select for appearing in before the judicial eyes -of this Mr. Glaston. She relinquished the design she had formed in -her mind while Mrs. Crawford was urging on her the necessity for -discrimination in this respect: she had resolved to show a recklessness -in her choice of a dress, but now she felt that she had better take Mrs. -Crawford's advice, and give some care to the artistic combinations of -her toilette. - -The result of her decision was that she appeared in such studious -carelessness of attire that Mr. Glaston, sitting opposite to her, was -enabled to eat a hearty dinner utterly regardless of the aggressive -splendour of the imperial blue dress worn by the other young lady, -with a pink ribbon flowing over it from her hair. This young lady's -imagination was unequal to suggesting a more diversified arrangement -than she had already shown. She thought it gave evidence of considerable -strategical resources to wear that pink ribbon over the blue dress: it -was very nearly as effective as the blue ribbon over the pink, of the -morning. The appreciation of contrast as an important element of effect -in art was very strongly developed in this young lady. - -Mrs. Crawford did not conceal the satisfaction she felt observing the -appetite of Mr. Glaston; and after dinner she took his arm as he went -towards the bridge. - -"I am so glad you were not offended with that dreadful young person's -hideous colours," she said, as they strolled along. - -"I could hardly have believed it possible that such wickedness could -survive nowadays," he replied. "But I was, after the first few minutes, -quite unconscious of its enormity. My dear Mrs. Crawford, your young -protge appeared as a spirit of light to charm away that fiend of evil. -She sat before me--a poem of tones--a delicate symphony of Schumann's -played at twilight on the brink of a mere of long reeds and water-flags, -with a single star shining through the well-defined twigs of a solitary -alder. That was her idea, don't you think?" - -"I have no doubt of it," the lady replied after a little pause. "But -if you allow me to present you to her you will have an opportunity of -finding out. Now do let me." - -"Not this evening, Mrs. Crawford; I do not feel equal to it," he -answered. "She has given me too much to think about--too many ideas to -work out. That was the most thoughtful and pure-souled toilette I ever -recollect; but there are a few points about it I do not fully grasp, -though I have an instinct of their meaning. No, I want a quiet hour -alone. But you will do me the favour to thank the child for me." - -"I wish you would come and do it yourself," said the lady. "But I -suppose there is no use attempting to force you. If you change your -mind, remember that we shall be here." - -She left the young man preparing a cigarette, and joined Daireen and -the major, who were sitting far astern: the girl with that fiction of -a fiction still in her hand; her companion with a cheroot that was -anything but insubstantial in his fingers. - -"My dear child," whispered Mrs. Crawford, "I am so glad you took your -own way and would not allow me to choose your dress for you. I could -never have dreamt of anything so perfect and----yes, it is far beyond -what I could have composed." - -Mrs. Crawford thought it better on the whole not to transfer to Daireen -the expression of gratitude Mr. Glaston had begged to be conveyed to -her. She had an uneasy consciousness that such a message coming to -one who was as yet unacquainted with Mr. Glaston might give her the -impression that he was inclined to have some of that unhappy conceit, -with the possession of which Mrs. Crawford herself had accredited the -race generally. - -"Miss Gerald is an angel in whatever dress she may wear," said the major -gallantly. "What is dress, after all?" he asked. "By gad, my dear, the -finest women I ever recollect seeing were in Burmah, and all the dress -they wore was the merest----" - -"Major, you forget yourself," cried his wife severely. - -The major pulled vigorously at the end of his moustache, grinning and -bobbing his head towards the doctor. - -"By gad, my dear, the recollection of those beauties would make any -fellow forget not only himself but his own wife, even if she was as fine -a woman as yourself." - -The doctor's face relapsed into its accustomed frown after he had given -a responsive grin and a baritone chuckle to the delicate pleasantry of -his old comrade. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - -````Look, with what courteous action - -```It waves you to a more removed ground: - -```But do not go with it.= - -```The very place puts toys of desperation, - -```Without more motive, into every brain.= - -_Horatio._ What are they that would speak with me?= - -_Servant_. Sea-faring men, sir.--_Hamlet_.= - - -|WHO does not know the delightful monotony of a voyage southward, broken -only at the intervals of anchoring beneath the brilliant green slopes of -Madeira or under the grim shadow of the cliffs of St. Helena? - -The first week of the voyage for those who are not sensitive of the -uneasy motion of the ship through the waves of the Bay of Biscay is -perhaps the most delightful, for then every one is courteous with every -one else. The passengers have not become friendly enough to be able to -quarrel satisfactorily. The young ladies have got a great deal of white -about them, and they have not begun to show that jealousy of each other -which the next fortnight so powerfully develops. The men, too, are -prodigal in their distribution of cigars; and one feels in one's own -heart nothing but the most generous emotions, as one sits filling a -meerschaum with Latakia in the delicate twilight of time and of thought -that succeeds the curried lobster and pilau chickens as prepared in the -galley of such ships as the _Cardwell Castle_. Certainly for a week of -Sabbaths a September voyage to Madeira must be looked to. - -Things had begun to arrange themselves aboard the _Cardwell Castle_. The -whist sets and the deck sets had been formed. The far-stretching arm of -society had at least one finger in the construction of the laws of life -in this Atlantic ship-town. - -The young woman with the pronounced tastes in colour and the large -resources of imagination in the arrangement of blue and pink had become -less aggressive, as she was compelled to fall back upon the minor -glories of her trunk, so that there was no likelihood of Mr. Glaston's -perishing of starvation. Though very fond of taking-up young ladies, -Mrs. Crawford had no great struggle with her propensity so far as this -young lady was concerned. But as Mr. Glaston had towards the evening of -the third day of the voyage found himself in a fit state of mind to be -presented to Miss Gerald, Mrs. Crawford had nothing to complain of. She -knew that the young man was invariably fascinating to all of her sex, -and she could see no reason why Miss Gerald should not have at least the -monotony of the voyage relieved for her through the improving nature -of his conversation. To be sure, Mr. Harwood also possessed in his -conversation many elements of improvement, but then they were of a more -commonplace type in Mrs. Crawford's eyes, and she thought it as well, -now and again when he was sitting beside Daireen, to make a third to -their party and assist in the solution of any question they might be -discussing. She rather wished that it had not been in Mr. Harwood's -power to give Daireen that information about her father's appointment; -it was a sort of link of friendship between him and the girl; but Mrs. -Crawford recollected her own responsibility with regard to Daireen too -well to allow such a frail link to become a bond to bind with any degree -of force. - -She was just making a mental resolution to this effect upon the day -preceding their expected arrival at Madeira, when Mr. Harwood, who had -before tiffin been showing the girl how to adjust a binocular glass, -strolled up to where the major's wife sat resolving many things, -reflecting upon her victories in quarter-deck campaigns of the past and -laying out her tactics for the future. - -"This is our third voyage together, is it not, Mrs. Crawford?" he asked. - -"Let me see," said the lady. "Yes, it is our third. Dear, dear, how time -runs past us!" - -"I wish it did run past us; unfortunately it seems to remain to work -some of its vengeance upon each of us. But do you think we ever had a -more charming voyage so far as this has run, Mrs. Crawford?" - -The lady became thoughtful. "That was a very nice trip in the P. & O.'s -_Turcoman_, when Mr. Carpingham of the Gunners proposed to Clara Walton -before he landed at Aden," she said. "Curiously enough, I was thinking -about that very voyage just before you came up now. General Walton -had placed Clara in my care, and it was I who presented her to young -Carpingham." There was a slight tone of triumph in her voice as she -recalled this victory of the past. - -"I remember well," said Mr. Harwood. "How pleased every one was, and -also how--well, the weather was extremely warm in the Red Sea just -before he proposed. But I certainly think that this voyage is likely to -be quite as pleasant. By the way, what a charming protge you have got -this time, Mrs. Crawford." - -"She is a dear girl indeed, and I hope that she may find her father all -right at the Cape. Think of what she must suffer." - -Mr. Harwood glanced round and saw that Mr. Glaston had strolled up to -Daireen's chair. "Yes, I have no doubt that she suffers," he said. "But -she is so gentle, so natural in her thoughts and in her manner, I should -indeed be sorry that any trouble would come to her." He was himself -speaking gently now--so gently, in fact, that Mrs. Crawford drew her -lips together with a slight pressure. "Perhaps it is because I am so -much older than she that she talks to me naturally as she would to her -father. I am old enough to be her father, I suppose," he added almost -mournfully. But this only made the lady's lips become more compressed. -She had heard men talk before now of being old enough to be young -ladies' fathers, and she could also recollect instances of men who were -actually old enough to be young ladies' grandfathers marrying those very -young ladies. - -"Yes," said Mrs. Crawford, "Daireen is a dear natural little thing." -Into the paternal potentialities of Mr. Harwood's position towards this -dear natural little thing Mrs. Crawford did not think it judicious to go -just then. - -"She is a dear child," he repeated. "By the way, we shall be at Funchal -at noon to-morrow, and we do not leave until the evening. You will land, -I suppose?" - -"I don't think I shall, I know every spot so well, and those bullock -sleighs are so tiresome. I am not so young as I was when I first made -their acquaintance." - -"Oh, really, if that is your only plea, my dear Mrs. Crawford, we may -count on your being in our party." - -"Our party!" said the lady. - -"I should not say that until I get your consent," said Harwood quickly. -"Miss Gerald has never been at the island, you see, and she is girlishly -eager to go ashore. Miss Butler and her mother are also landing"--these -were other passengers--"and in a weak moment I volunteered my services -as guide. Don't you think you can trust me so far as to agree to be one -of us?" - -"Of course I can," she said. "If Daireen wishes to go ashore you may -depend upon my keeping her company. But you will have to provide a -sleigh for myself." - -"You may depend upon the sleigh, Mrs. Crawford; and many thanks for your -trusting to my guidance. Though I sleigh you yet you will trust me." - -"Mr. Harwood, that is dreadful. I am afraid that Mrs. Butler will need -one of them also." - -"The entire sleigh service shall be impressed if necessary," said the -"special," as he walked away. - -Mrs. Crawford felt that she had not done anything rash. Daireen would, -no doubt, be delighted with the day among the lovely heights of Madeira, -and if by some little thoughtfulness it would be possible to hit upon a -plan that should give over the guidance of some of the walking members -of the party to Mr. Glaston, surely the matter was worth pursuing. - -Mr. Glaston was just at this instant looking into, Daireen's face as he -talked to her. He invariably kept his eyes fixed upon the faces of -the young women to whom he was fond of talking. It did not argue any -earnestness on his part, Mrs. Crawford knew. He seemed now, however, -to be a little in earnest in what he was saying. But then Mrs. -Crawford reflected that the subjects upon which his discourse was most -impassioned were mostly those that other people would call trivial, -such as the effect produced upon the mind of man by seeing a grape-green -ribbon lying upon a pale amber cushion. "Every colour has got its soul," -she once heard him say; "and though any one can appreciate its meaning -and the work it has to perform in the world, the subtle thoughts -breathed by the tones are too delicate to be understood except by a -few. Colour is language of the subtlest nature, and one can praise God -through that medium just as one can blaspheme through it." He had said -this very earnestly at one time, she recollected, and as she now saw -Daireen laugh she thought it was not impossible that it might be at some -phrase of the same nature, the meaning of which her uncultured ear did -not at once catch, that Daireen had laughed. Daireen, at any rate, did -laugh in spite of his earnestness of visage. - -In a few moments Mr. Glaston came over to Mrs. Crawford, and now his -face wore an expression of sadness rather than of any other emotion. - -"My dear Mrs. Crawford, you surely cannot intend to give your consent -to that child's going ashore tomorrow. She tells me that that newspaper -fellow has drawn her into a promise to land with a party--actually a -party--and go round the place like a Cook's excursion." - -"Oh, I hope we shall not be like that, Mr. Glaston," said Mrs. Crawford. - -"But you have not given your consent?" - -"If Daireen would enjoy it I do not see how I could avoid. Mr. Harwood -was talking to me just now. He seems to think she will enjoy herself, as -she has never seen the island before. Will you not be one of our party?" - -"Oh, Mrs. Crawford, if you have got the least regard for me, do not -say that word party; it means everything that is popular; it suggests -unutterable horrors to me. No subsequent pleasure could balance the -agony I should endure going ashore. Will you not try and induce that -child to give up the idea? Tell her what dreadful taste it would be to -join a party--that it would most certainly destroy her perceptions of -beauty for months to come." - -"I am very sorry I promised Mr. Harwood," said the lady; "if going -ashore would do all of this it would certainly be better for Daireen to -remain aboard. But they will be taking in coals here," she added, as the -sudden thought struck her. - -"She can shut herself in her cabin and neither see nor hear anything -offensive. Who but a newspaper man would think of suggesting to cultured -people the possibility of enjoyment in a party?" - -But the newspaper man had strolled up to the place beside Daireen, -which the aesthetic man had vacated. He knew something of the art of -strategical defence, this newspaper man, and he was well aware that as -he had got the promise of the major's wife, all the arguments that might -be advanced by any one else would not cause him to be defrauded of the -happiness of being by this girl's side in one of the loveliest spots of -the world. - -"I will find out what Daireen thinks," said Mrs. Crawford, in reply to -Mr. Glaston; and just then she turned and saw the newspaper man beside -the girl. - -"Never mind him," said Mr. Glaston; "tell the poor child that it is -impossible for her to go." - -"I really cannot break my promise," replied the lady. "We must be -resigned, it will only be for a few hours." - -"This is the saddest thing I ever knew," said Mr. Glaston. "She will -lose all the ideas she was getting--all through being of a party. Good -heavens, a party!" - -Mrs. Crawford could see that Mr. Glaston was annoyed at the presence of -Harwood by the side of the girl, and she smiled, for she was too old a -tactician not to be well aware of the value of a skeleton enemy. - -"How kind of you to say you would not mind my going ashore," said -Daireen, walking up to her. "We shall enjoy ourselves I am sure, and Mr. -Harwood knows every spot to take us to. I was afraid that Mr. Glaston -might be talking to you as he was to me." - -"Yes, he spoke to me, but of course, my dear, if you think you would -like to go ashore I shall not say anything but that I will be happy to -take care of you." - -"You are all that is good," said Mr. Harwood. This was very pretty, the -lady thought--very pretty indeed; but at the same time she was making up -her mind that if the gentleman before her had conceived it probable that -he should be left to exhibit any of the wonders of the island scenery -to the girl, separate from the companionship of the girl's temporary -guardian, he would certainly find out that he had reckoned without due -regard to other contingencies. - -Sadness was the only expression visible upon the face of Mr. Glaston for -the remainder of this day; but upon the following morning this aspect -had changed to one of contempt as he heard nearly all the cabin's -company talking with expectancy of the joys of a few hours ashore. It -was a great disappointment to him to observe the brightening of the face -of Daireen Gerald, as Mr. Harwood came to tell her that the land was in -sight. - -Daireen's face, however, did brighten. She went up to the ship's bridge, -and Mr. Harwood, laying one hand upon her shoulder, pointed out with the -other where upon the horizon lay a long, low, gray cloud. Mrs. Crawford -observing his action, and being well aware that the girl's range of -vision was not increased in the smallest degree by the touch of his -fingers upon her shoulder, made a resolution that she herself would -be the first to show Daireen the earliest view of St. Helena when they -should be approaching that island. - -But there lay that group of cloud, and onward the good steamer sped. -In the course of an hour the formless mass had assumed a well-defined -outline against the soft blue sky. Then a lovely white bird came about -the ship from the distance like a spirit from those Fortunate Islands. -In a short time a gleam of sunshine was seen reflected from the flat -surface of a cliff, and then the dark chasms upon the face of each of -the island-rocks of the Dezertas could be seen. But when these were -passed the long island of Madeira appeared gray and massive, and with -a white cloud clinging about its highest ridges. Onward still, and the -thin white thread of foam encircling the rocks was perceived. Then the -outline of the cliffs stood defined against the fainter background -of the island; but still all was gray and colourless. Not for long, -however, for the sunlight smote the clouds and broke their gray masses, -and then fell around the ridges, showing the green heights of vines -and slopes of sugar-canes. But it was not until the roll of the waves -against the cliff-faces was heard that the cloud-veil was lifted and -all the glad green beauty of the slope flashed up to the blue sky, and -thrilled all those who stood on the deck of the vessel. - -Along this lovely coast the vessel moved through the sparkling green -ripples. Not the faintest white fleck of cloud was now in the sky, and -the sunlight falling downwards upon the island, brought out every brown -rock of the coast in bold relief against the brilliant green of the -slope. So close to the shore the vessel passed, the nearer cliffs -appeared to glide away as the land in their shade was disclosed, and -this effect of soft motion was entrancing to all who experienced it. -Then the low headland with the island-rock crowned with a small pillared -building was reached and passed, and the lovely bay of Funchal came in -view. - -Daireen, who had lived among the sombre magnificence of the Irish -scenery, felt this soft dazzling green as something marvellously strange -and unexpected. Had not Mr. Glaston descended to his cabin at the -earliest expression of delight that was forced from the lips of some -young lady on the deck, he, would have been still more disappointed with -Daireen, for her face was shining with happiness. But Mr. Harwood found -more pleasure in watching her face than he did in gazing at the long -crescent slope of the bay, and at the white houses that peeped from -amongst the vines, or at the high convent of the hill. He did not speak -a word to the girl, but only watched her as she drank in everything of -beauty that passed before her. - -Then the Loo rock at the farther point of the bay was neared, and as -the engine slowed, the head of the steamer was brought round towards the -white town of Funchal, spread all about the beach where the huge -rollers were breaking. The tinkle of the engine-room telegraph brought a -wonderful silence over everything as the propeller ceased. The voice of -the captain giving orders about the lead line was heard distinctly, and -the passengers felt inclined to speak in whispers. Suddenly with a harsh -roar the great chain cable rushes out and the anchor drops into the -water. - -"This is the first stage of our voyage," said Mr. Harwood. "Now, while I -select a boat, will you kindly get ready for landing? Oh, Mrs. Crawford, -you will be with us at once, I suppose?" - -"Without the loss of a moment," said the lady, going down to the cabins -with Daireen. - -The various island authorities pushed off from the shore in their boats, -sitting under canvas awnings and looking unpleasantly like banditti. -Doctor Campion answered their kind inquiries regarding the health of the -passengers, for nothing could exceed the attentive courtesy shown by the -government in this respect. - -Then a young Scotchman, who had resolved to emulate Mr. Harwood's -example in taking a party ashore, began making a bargain by signs with -one of the boatmen, while his friends stood around. The major and the -doctor having plotted together to go up to pay a visit to an hotel, -pushed off in a government boat without acquainting any one with their -movements. But long before the Scotchman had succeeded in reducing -the prohibitory sum named by the man with whom he was treating for the -transit of the party ashore, Mr. Harwood had a boat waiting at the -rail for his friends, and Mrs. Butler and her daughter were in act to -descend, chatting with the "special" who was to be their guide. Another -party had already left for the shore, the young lady who had worn the -blue and pink appearing in a bonnet surrounded with resplendent flowers -and beads. But before the smiles of Mrs. Butler and Harwood had passed -away, Mrs. Crawford and Daireen had come on deck again, the former with -many apologies for her delay. - -Mr. Harwood ran down the sloping rail to assist the ladies into the -boat that rose and fell with every throb of the waves against the ship's -side. Mrs. Crawford followed him and was safely stowed in a place in the -stern. Then came Mrs. Butler and her daughter, and while Mr. Harwood was -handing them off the last step Daireen began to descend. But she had not -got farther down than to where a young sailor was kneeling to shift the -line of one of the fruit boats, when she stopped suddenly with a great -start that almost forced a cry from her. - -"For God's sake go on--give no sign if you don't wish to make me -wretched," said the sailor in a whisper. - -"Come, Miss Gerald, we are waiting," cried Harwood up the long rail. - -Daireen remained irresolute for a moment, then walked slowly down, and -allowed herself to be handed into the boat. - -"Surely you are not timid, Miss Gerald," said Harwood as the boat pushed -off. - -"Timid?" said Daireen mechanically. - -"Yes, your hand was really trembling as I helped you down." - -"No, no, I am not--not timid, only--I fear I shall not be very good -company to-day; I feel----" she looked back to the steamer and did not -finish her sentence. - -Mr. Harwood glanced at her for a moment, thinking if it really could -be possible that she was regretting the absence of Mr. Glaston. Mrs. -Crawford also looked at her and came to the conclusion that, at the last -moment, the girl was recalling the aesthetic instructions of the young -man who was doubtless sitting lonely in his cabin while she was bent on -enjoying herself with a "party." - -But Daireen was only thinking how it was she had refrained from crying -out when she saw the face of that sailor on the rail, and when she heard -his voice; and it must be confessed that it was rather singular, taking -into account the fact that she had recognised in the features and voice -of that sailor the features and voice of Standish Macnamara. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - -```Your visitation shall receive such thanks - -```As fits... remembrance.= - -```... Thus do we of wisdom and of reach, - -```With windlasses and with assays of bias, - -```By indirections find directions out.= - -```More matter with less art.--_Hamlet._= - - -|THE thin white silk thread of a moon was hanging in the blue twilight -over the darkened western slope of the island, and almost within the -horns of its crescent a planet was burning without the least tremulous -motion. The lights of the town were glimmering over the waters, and the -strange, wildly musical cries of the bullock-drivers were borne faintly -out to the steamer, mingling with the sound of the bell of St. Mary's on -the Mount. - -The vessel had just begun to move away from its anchorage, and Daireen -Gerald was standing on the deck far astern leaning over the bulwarks -looking back upon the island slope whose bright green had changed to -twilight purple. Not of the enjoyment of the day she had spent up among -the vines was the girl thinking; her memory fled back to the past days -spent beneath the shadow of a slope that was always purple, with a robe -of heather clinging to it from base to summit. - -"I hope you don't regret having taken my advice about going on shore, -Miss Gerald," said Mr. Harwood, who had come beside her. - -"Oh, no," she said; "it was all so lovely--so unlike what I ever saw or -imagined." - -"It has always seemed lovely to me," he said, "but to-day it was very -lovely. I had got some pleasant recollections of the island before, but -now the memories I shall retain will be the happiest of my life." - -"Was to-day really so much pleasanter?" asked the girl quickly. "Then I -am indeed fortunate in my first visit. But you were not at any part of -the island that you had not seen before," she added, after a moment's -pause. - -"No," he said quietly. "But I saw all to-day under a new aspect." - -"You had not visited it in September? Ah, I recollect now having heard -that this was the best month for Madeira. You see I am fortunate." - -"Yes, you are--fortunate," he said slowly. "You are fortunate; you are a -child; I am--a man." - -Daireen was quite puzzled by his tone; it was one of sadness, and she -knew that he was not accustomed to be sad. He had not been so at any -time through the day when they were up among the vineyards looking down -upon the tiny ships in the harbour beneath them, or wandering through -the gardens surrounding the villa at which they had lunched after being -presented by their guide--no, he had certainly not displayed any sign of -sadness then. But here he was now beside her watching the lights of the -shore twinkling into dimness, and speaking in this way that puzzled her. - -"I don't know why, if you say you will have only pleasant recollections -of to-day, you should speak in a tone like that," she said. - -"No, no, you would not understand it," he replied. If she had kept -silence after he had spoken his previous sentence, he would have been -tempted to say to her what he had on his heart, but her question made -him hold back his words, for it proved to him what he told her--she -would not understand him. - -It is probable, however, that Mrs. Crawford, who by the merest accident, -of course, chanced to come from the cabin at this moment, would have -understood even the most enigmatical utterance that might pass from his -lips on the subject of his future memories of the day they had spent -on the island; she felt quite equal to the solution of any question of -psychological analysis that might arise. But she contented herself now -by calling Daireen's attention to the flashing of the phosphorescent -water at the base of the cliffs round which the vessel was moving, and -the observance of this phenomenon drew the girl's thoughts away from the -possibility of discovering the meaning of the man's words. The major and -his old comrade Doctor Campion then came near and expressed the greatest -anxiety to learn how their friends had passed the day. Both major and -doctor were in the happiest of moods. They had visited the hotel they -agreed in stating, and no one on the deck undertook to prove anything to -the contrary--no one, in fact, seemed to doubt in the least the truth of -what they said. - -In a short time Mrs. Crawford and Daireen were left alone; not for long, -however, for Mr. Glaston strolled languidly up. - -"I cannot say I hope you enjoyed yourself," he said. "I know very well -you did not. I hope you could not." - -Daireen laughed. "Your hopes are misplaced, I fear, Mr. Glaston," she -answered. "We had a very happy day--had we not, Mrs. Crawford?" - -"I am afraid we had, dear." - -"Why, Mr. Harwood said distinctly to me just now," continued Daireen, -"that it was the pleasantest day he had ever passed upon the island." - -"Ah, he said so? well, you see, he is a newspaper man, and they all look -at things from a popular standpoint; whatever is popular is right, is -their motto; while ours is, whatever is popular is wrong." - -He felt himself speaking as the representative of a class, no doubt, -when he made use of the plural. - -"Yes; Mr. Harwood seemed even more pleased than we were," continued the -girl. "He told me that the recollection of our exploration to-day would -be the--the--yes, the happiest of his life. He did indeed," she added -almost triumphantly. - -"Did he?" said Mr. Glaston slowly. - -"My dear child," cried Mrs. Crawford, quickly interposing, "he has got -that way of talking. He has, no doubt, said those very words to every -person he took ashore on his previous visits. He has, I know, said them -every evening for a fortnight in the Mediterranean." - -"Then you don't think he means anything beyond a stupid compliment to -us? What a wretched thing it is to be a girl, after all. Never mind, I -enjoyed myself beyond any doubt." - -"It is impossible--quite impossible, child," said the young man. -"Enjoyment with a refined organisation such as yours can never be -anything that is not reflective--it is something that cannot be shared -with a number of persons. It is quite impossible that you could have -any feeling in common with such a mind as this Mr. Harwood's or with -the other people who went ashore. I heard nothing but expressions of -enjoyment, and I felt really sad to think that there was not a refined -soul among them all. They enjoyed themselves, therefore you did not." - -"I think I can understand you," said Mrs. Crawford at once, for she -feared that Daireen might attempt to question the point he insisted on. -Of course when the superior intellect of Mr. Glaston demonstrated that -they could not have enjoyed themselves, it was evident that it was their -own sensations which were deceiving them. Mrs. Crawford trusted to the -decision of the young man's intellect more implicitly than she did her -own senses: just as Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton Heath, came -to believe the practical jesters. - -"Should you enjoy the society and scenery of a desert island better -than an inhabited one?" asked the girl, somewhat rebellious at the -concessions of Mrs. Crawford. - -"Undoubtedly, if everything was in good taste," he answered quietly. - -"That is, if everything was in accordance with your own taste," came the -voice of Mr. Harwood, who, unseen, had rejoined the party. - -Mr. Glaston made no reply. He had previously become aware of the -unsatisfactory results of making any answers to such men as wrote for -newspapers. As he had always considered such men outside the world -of art in which he lived and to the inhabitants of which he addressed -himself, it was hardly to be expected that he would put himself on a -level of argument with them. In fact, Mr. Glaston rarely consented to -hold an argument with any one. If people maintained opinions different -from his own, it was so much the worse for those people--that was all he -felt. It was to a certain circle of young women in good society that -he preferred addressing himself, for he knew that to each individual -in that circle he appeared as the prophet and high priest of art. His -tone-poems in the college magazine, his impromptus--musical _aquarellen_ -he called them--performed in secret and out of hearing of any earthly -audience, his colour-harmonies, his statuesque idealisms--all these were -his priestly ministrations; while the interpretation, not of his -own works--this he never attempted--but of the works of three poets -belonging to what he called his school, of one painter, and of one -musical composer, was his prophetical service. - -It was obviously impossible that such a man could put himself on that -mental level which would be implied by his action should he consent -to make any answer to a person like Mr. Harwood. But apart from these -general grounds, Mr. Glaston had got concrete reasons for declining to -discuss any subject with this newspaper man. He knew that it was -Mr. Harwood who had called the tone-poems of the college magazine -alliterative conundrums for young ladies; that it was Mr. Harwood who -had termed one of the colour-harmonies a study in virulent jaundice; -that it was Mr. Harwood who had, after smiling on being told of the -_aquarellen_ impromptus, expressed a desire to hear one of these -compositions--all this Mr. Glaston knew well, and so when Mr. Harwood -made that remark about taste Mr. Glaston did not reply. - -Daireen, however, did not feel the silence oppressive. She kept her eyes -fixed upon that thin thread of moon that was now almost touching the -dark ridge of the island. - -Harwood looked at her for a few moments, and then he too leaned over the -side of the ship and gazed at that lovely moon and its burning star. - -"How curious," he said gently--"how very curious, is it not, that the -sight of that hill and that moon should bring back to me memories of -Lough Suangorm and Slieve Docas?" - -The girl gave a start. "You are thinking of them too? I am so glad. It -makes me so happy to know that I am not the only one here who knows all -about Suangorm." Suddenly another thought seemed to come to her. -She turned her eyes away from the island and glanced down the deck -anxiously. - -"No," said Mr. Harwood very gently indeed; "you are not alone in your -memories of the loveliest spot of the world." - -Mrs. Crawford thought it well to interpose. "My dear Daireen, you must -be careful not to take a chill now after all the unusual exercise you -have had during the day. Don't you think you had better go below?" - -"Yes, I had much better," said the girl quickly and in a startled -tone; and she had actually gone to the door of the companion before -she recollected that she had not said good-night either to Glaston or -Harwood. She turned back and redeemed her negligence, and then went down -with her good guardian. - -"Poor child," thought Mr. Glaston, "she fears that I am hurt by her -disregard of my advice about going ashore with those people. Poor child! -perhaps I was hard upon her!" - -"Poor little thing," thought Mr. Harwood. "She begins to understand." - -"It would never do to let that sort or thing go on," thought Mrs. -Crawford, as she saw that Daireen got a cup of tea before retiring. -Mrs. Crawford fully appreciated Mr. Harwood's cleverness in reading the -girl's thought and so quickly adapting his speech to the requirements of -the moment; but she felt her own superiority of cleverness. - -Each of the three was a careful and experienced observer, but there are -certain conditional influences to be taken into account in arriving at a -correct conclusion as to the motives of speech or action of every human -subject under observation; and the reason that these careful analysts of -motives were so utterly astray in tracing to its source the remissness -of Miss Gerald, was probably because none of the three was aware of -the existence of an important factor necessary for the solution of the -interesting problem they had worked out so airily; this factor being the -sudden appearance of Standish Macnamara beside the girl in the morning, -and her consequent reflections upon the circumstance in the evening. - -But as she sat alone in her cabin, seeing through the port the effect -of the silver moonlight upon the ridge of the hill behind which the moon -itself had now sunk, she was wondering, as she had often wondered during -the day, if indeed it was Standish whom she had seen and whose voice she -had heard. All had been so sudden--so impossible, she thought, that -the sight of him and the hearing of his voice seemed to her but as the -memories of a dream of her home. - -But now that she was alone and capable of reflecting upon the matter, -she felt that she had not been deceived. By some means the young man to -whom she had written her last letter in Ireland was aboard the steamer. -It was very wonderful to the girl to reflect upon this; but then she -thought if he was aboard, why should she not be able to find him and ask -him all about himself? - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - -`````Providence - -``Should have kept short, restrained, and out of haunt - -``This mad young man... - -````His very madness, like some ore - -``Among a mineral of metals base, - -``Shows itself pure.= - -``Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing - -``To what I shall unfold.= - -```It is common for the younger sort - -``To lack discretion.= - -``_Queen_.... Whereon do you look?= - -``_Hamlet_. On him, on him! look you, how pale he glares. - -`````... It is not madness - -``That I have uttered: bring me to the test.--_Hamlet_= - - -|THE question which suggested itself to Daireen as to the possibility of -seeing Standish aboard the steamer, was not the only one that occupied -her thoughts. How had he come aboard, and why had he come aboard, were -further questions whose solution puzzled her. She recollected how he -had told her on that last day she had seen him, while they walked in the -garden after leaving The Macnamara in that side room with the excellent -specimen of ancient furniture ranged with glass vessels, that he was -heartily tired of living among the ruins of the castle, and that he had -made up his mind to go out into the world of work. She had then begged -of him to take no action of so much importance until her father should -have returned to give him the advice he needed; and in that brief -postscript which she had added to the farewell letter given into the -care of the bard O'Brian, she had expressed her regret that this counsel -of hers had been rendered impracticable. Was it possible, however, that -Standish placed so much confidence in the likelihood of valuable advice -being given to him by her father that he had resolved to go out to the -Cape and speak with him on the subject face to face, she thought; but -it struck her that there would be something like an inconsistency in the -young man's travelling six thousand miles to take an opinion as to the -propriety of his leaving his home. - -What was she to do? She felt that she must see Standish and have from -his own lips an explanation of how he had come aboard the ship; but -in that, sentence he had spoken to her he had entreated of her to keep -silence, so that she dared not seek for him under the guidance of Mrs. -Crawford or any of her friends aboard the vessel. It would be necessary -for her to find him alone, and she knew that this would be a difficult -thing to do, situated as she was. But let the worst come, she reflected -that it could only result in the true position of Standish being-known. -This was really all that the girl believed could possibly be the result -if a secret interview between herself and a sailor aboard the steamer -should be discovered; and, thinking of the worst consequences so -lightly, made her all the more anxious to hasten on such an interview if -she could contrive it. - -She seated herself upon her little sofa and tried to think by what means -she could meet with Standish, and yet fulfil his entreaty for secrecy. -Her imagination, so far as inventing plans was concerned, did not seem -to be inexhaustible. After half an hour's pondering over the matter, no -more subtle device was suggested to her than going on deck and walking -alone towards the fore-part of the ship between the deck-house and the -bulwarks, where it might possibly chance that Standish would be found. -This was her plan, and she did not presume to think to herself that its -intricacy was the chief element of its possible success. Had she been -aware of the fact that Standish was at that instant standing in the -shadow of that deck-house looking anxiously astern in the hope of -catching a glimpse of her--had she known that since the steamer had left -the English port he had every evening stood with the same object in -the same place, she would have been more hopeful of her simple plan -succeeding. - -At any rate she stole out of her cabin and went up the companion and -out upon the deck, with all the caution that a novice in the art of -dissembling could bring to her aid. - -The night was full of softness--softness of gray reflected light from -the waters that were rippling along before the vessel--softness of air -that seemed saturated with the balm of odorous trees growing upon the -slopes of those Fortunate Islands. The deck was deserted by passengers; -only Major Crawford, the doctor, and the special correspondent were -sitting in a group in their cane chairs, smoking their cheroots and -discussing some action of a certain colonel that had not yet been fully -explained, though it had taken place fifteen years previously. The -group could not see her, she knew; but even if they had espied her and -demanded an explanation, she felt that she had progressed sufficiently -far in the crooked ways of deception to be able to lull their suspicions -by her answers. She could tell them that she had a headache, or put them -off with some equally artful excuse. - -She walked gently along until she was at the rear of the deck-house -where the stock of the mainmast was standing with all its gear. She -looked down the dark tunnel passage between the side of the house and -the bulwarks, but she felt her courage fail her: she dared do all that -might become a woman, but the gloom of that covered place, and the -consciousness that beyond it lay the mysterious fore-cabin space, caused -her to pause. What was she to do? - -Suddenly there came the sound of a low voice at her ear. - -"Daireen, Daireen, why did you come here?" She started and looked around -trembling, for it was the voice of Standish, though she could not see -the form of the speaker. It was some moments before she found that he -was under the broad rail leading to the ship's bridge. - -"Then it is you, Standish, indeed?" she said. "How on earth did you come -aboard?--Why have you come?--Are you really a sailor?--Where is your -father?--Does he know?--Why don't you shake hands with me, Standish?" - -These few questions she put to him in a breath, looking between the -steps of the rail. - -"Daireen, hush, for Heaven's sake!" he said anxiously. "You don't know -what you are doing in coming to speak with me here--I am only a sailor, -and if you were seen near me it would be terrible. Do go back to your -cabin and leave me to my wretchedness." - -"I shall not go back," she said resolutely. "I am your friend, Standish, -and why should I not speak to you for an hour if I wish? You are not the -quartermaster at the wheel. What a start you gave me this morning! Why -did you not tell me you were coming in this steamer?" - -"I did not leave Suangorm until the next morning after I heard you had -gone," he answered in a whisper. "I should have died--I should indeed, -Daireen, if I had remained at home while you were gone away without any -one to take care of you." - -"Oh, Standish, Standish, what will your father say?--What will he -think?" - -"I don't care," said Standish. "I told him on that day when we returned -from Suanmara that I would go away. I was a fool that I did not make up -my mind long ago. It was, indeed, only when you left that I carried -out my resolution. I learned what ship you were going in; I had as much -money as brought me to England--I had heard of people working their -passage abroad; so I found out the captain of the steamer, and telling -him all about myself that I could--not of course breathing your name, -Daireen--I begged him to allow me to work my way as a sailor, and he -agreed to give me the passage. He wanted me to become a waiter in the -cabin, but I couldn't do that; I didn't mind facing all the hardships -that might come, so long as I was near you--and--able to get your -father's advice. Now do go back, Daireen." - -"No one will see us," said the girl, after a pause, in which she -reflected on the story he had told her. "But all is so strange, -Standish," she continued--"all is so unlike anything I ever imagined -possible. Oh, Standish, it is too dreadful to think of your being a -sailor--just a sailor--aboard the ship." - -"There's nothing so very bad in it," he replied. "I can work, thank God; -and I mean to work. The thought of being near you--that is, near the -time when I can get the advice I want from your father--makes all my -labour seem light." - -"But if I ask the captain, he will, I am sure, let you become a -passenger," said the girl suddenly. "Do let me ask him, Standish. It is -so--so hard for you to have to work as a sailor." - -"It is no harder than I expected it would be," he said; "I am not afraid -to work hard: and I feel that I am doing something--I feel it. I should -be more wretched in the cabin. Now do not think of speaking to me for -the rest of the voyage, Daireen; only, do not forget that you have a -friend aboard the ship--a friend who will be willing to die for you." - -His voice was very tremulous, and she could see his tearful eyes -glistening in the gray light as he put out one of his hands to her. -She put her own hand into it and felt his strong earnest grasp as he -whispered, "God bless you, Daireen! God bless you!" - -"Make it six bells, quartermaster," came the voice of the officer on -watch from the bridge. In fear and trembling Daireen waited until the -man came aft and gave the six strokes upon the ship's bell that hung -quite near where she was standing--Standish thinking it prudent to -remain close in the shade of the rail. The quartermaster saw her, but -did not, of course, conceive it to be within the range of his duties -to give any thought to the circumstance of a passenger being on deck at -that hour. When the girl turned round after the bell had been struck, -she found that Standish had disappeared. All she could do was to hasten -back to her cabin with as much caution as it was possible for her to -preserve, for she could still hear the hoarse tones of the major's voice -coming from the centre of the group far astern, who were regaled with a -very pointed chronicle of a certain station in the empire of Hindustan. - -Daireen reached her cabin and sat once more upon her sofa, breathing a -sigh of relief, for she had never in her life had such a call upon her -courage as this to which she had just responded. - -Her face was flushed and hot, and her hands were trembling, so she threw -open the pane of the cabin port-hole and let the soft breeze enter. -It moved about her hair as she stood there, and she seemed to feel the -fingers of a dear friend caressing her forehead. Then she sat down once -more and thought over all that had happened since the morning when she -had gone on deck to see that gray cloud-land brighten into the lovely -green slope of Madeira. - -She thought of all that Standish had told her about himself, and she -felt her heart overflowing, as were her eyes, with sympathy for him who -had cast aside his old life and was endeavouring to enter upon the new. - -As she sat there in her dreaming mood all the days of the past came back -to her, with a clearness she had never before known. All the pleasant -hours returned to her with even a more intense happiness than she had -felt at first. For out of the distance of these Fortunate Islands the -ghosts of the blessed departed hours came and moved before her, looking -into her face with their own sweet pale faces; thus she passed from a -waking dream into a dream of sleep as she lay upon her sofa, and the -ghost shapes continued to float before her. The fatigue of the day, the -darkness of the cabin, and the monotonous washing of the ripples against -the side of the ship, had brought on her sleep before she had got into -her berth. - -With a sudden start she awoke and sprang to her feet in instantaneous -consciousness, for the monotony of the washing waves was broken by a -sound that was strange and startling to her ears--the sound of something -hard tapping at irregular intervals upon the side of the ship just at -her ear. - -She ran over to the cabin port and looked out fearfully--looked out and -gave a cry of terror, for beneath her--out from those gray waters there -glanced up to her in speechless agony the white face of a man; she -saw it but for a moment, then it seemed to be swept away from her and -swallowed up in the darkness of the deep waters. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - -`````... Rashly, - -```And praised be rashness for it.... - -````Up from my cabin, - -```My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark - -```Groped I to find out them... making so bold, - -```My fears forgetting manners.= - -``Give me leave: here lies the water; good: here stands the man; good. - -`````Let us know - -```Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well - -````... and that should learn us - -```There's a divinity that shapes our ends - -```Rough-hew them how we will.--_Hamlet._= - - -|A SINGLE cry of terror was all that Daireen uttered as she fell back -upon her berth. An instant more and she was standing with white lips, -and hands that were untrembling as the rigid hand of a dead person. -She knew what was to be done as plainly as if she saw everything in a -picture. She rushed into the saloon and mounted the companion to the -deck. There sat the little group astern just as she had seen them an -hour before, only that the doctor had fallen asleep under the influence -of one of the less pointed of the major's stories. - -"God bless my soul!" cried the major, as the girl clutched the back of -his chair. - -"Good heavens, Miss Gerald, what is the matter?" said Harwood, leaping -to his feet. - -She pointed to the white wake of the ship. - -"There--there," she whispered--"a man--drowning--clinging to -something--a wreck--I saw him!" - -"Dear me! dear me!" said the major, in a tone of relief, and with a -breath of a smile. - -But the special correspondent had looked into the girl's face. It was -his business to understand the difference between dreaming and waking. -He was by the side of the officer on watch in a moment. A few words were -enough to startle the officer into acquiescence with the demands of the -"special." The unwonted sound of the engine-room telegraph was heard, -its tinkle shaking the slumbers of the chief engineer as effectively as -if it had been the thunder of an alarum peal. - -The stopping of the engine, the blowing off of the steam, and the -arrival of the captain upon the deck, were simultaneous occurrences. The -officer's reply to his chief as he hurried aft did not seem to be very -satisfactory, judging from the manner in which it was received. - -But Harwood had left the officer to explain the stoppage of the vessel, -and was now kneeling by the side of the chair, back upon which lay -the unconscious form of Daireen, while the doctor was forcing some -brandy--all that remained in the major's tumbler--between her lips, and -a young sailor--the one who had been at the rail in the morning--chafed -her pallid hand. The major was scanning the expanse of water by aid of -his pilot glass, and the quartermaster who had been steering went to the -line of the patent log to haul it in--his first duty at any time on the -stopping of the vessel, to prevent the line--the strain being taken off -it--fouling with the propeller. - -When the steamer is under weigh it is the work of two sailors to take -in the eighty fathoms of log-line, otherwise, however, the line is of -course quite slack; it was thus rather inexplicable to the quartermaster -to find much more resistance to his first haul than if the vessel were -going full speed ahead. - -"The darned thing's fouled already," he murmured for his own -satisfaction. He could not take in a fathom, so great was the -resistance. - -"Hang it all, major," said the captain, "isn't this too bad? Bringing -the ship to like this, and--ah, here they come! All the ship's company -will be aft in a minute." - -"Rum, my boy, very rum," muttered the sympathetic major. - -"What's the matter, captain?" said one voice. - -"Is there any danger?" asked a tremulous second. - -"If it's a collision or a leak, don't keep it from us, sir," came a -stern contralto. For in various stages of toilet incompleteness the -passengers were crowding out of the cabin. - -But before the "unhappy master" could utter a word of reply, the sailor -had touched his cap and reported to the third mate: - -"Log-line fouled on wreck, sir." - -"By gad!" shouted the major, who was twisting the log-line about, and -peering into the water. "By gad, the girl was right! The line has fouled -on some wreck, and there is a body made fast to it." - -The captain gave just a single glance in the direction indicated. . - -"Stand by gig davits and lower away," he shouted to the watch, who had -of course come aft. - -The men ran to where the boat was hanging, and loosened the lines. - -"Oh, Heaven preserve us! they are taking to the boats!" cried a female -passenger. - -"Don't be a fool, my good woman," said Mrs. Crawford tartly. The major's -wife had come on deck in a most marvellous costume, and she was already -holding a sal-volatile bottle to Daireen's nose, having made a number of -inquiries of Mr. Harwood and the doctor. - -All the other passengers had crowded to the ship's side, and were -watching the men in the boat cutting at something which had been reached -at the end of the log-line. They could see the broken stump of a mast -and the cross-trees, but nothing further. - -"They have got it into the boat," said the major, giving the result of -his observation through the binocular. - -"For Heaven's sake, ladies, go below!" cried the captain. But no one -moved. - -"If you don't want to see the ghastly corpse of a drowned man gnawed by -fishes for weeks maybe, you had better go down, ladies," said the chief -officer. Still no one stirred. - -The major, who was an observer of nature, smiled and winked sagaciously -at the exasperated captain before he said: - -"Why should the ladies go down at all? it's a pleasant night, and begad, -sir, a group of nightcaps like this isn't to be got together more -than once in a lifetime." Before the gallant officer had finished his -sentence the deck was cleared of women; but, of course, the luxury of -seeing a dead body lifted from the boat being too great to be missed, -the starboard cabin ports had many faces opposite them. - -The doctor left Daireen to the care of Mrs. Crawford, saying that she -would recover consciousness in a few minutes, and he hastened with a -kaross to the top of the boiler, where he had shouted to the men in the -boat to carry the body. - -The companion-rail having been lowered, it was an easy matter for the -four men to take the body on deck and to lay it upon the tiger-skin -before the doctor, who rubbed his hands--an expression which the seamen -interpreted as meaning satisfaction. - -"Gently, my men, raise his head--so--throw the light on his face. By -George, he doesn't seem to have suffered from the oysters; there's hope -for him yet." - -And the compassionate surgeon began cutting the clothing from the limbs -of the body. - -"No, don't take the pieces away," he said to one of the men; "let them -remain here Now dry his arms carefully, and we'll try and get some air -into his lungs, if they're not already past work." - -But before the doctor had commenced his operations the ship's gig had -been hauled up once more to the davits, and the steamer was going ahead -at slow speed. - -"Keep her at slow until the dawn," said the captain to the officer on -watch. "And let there be a good lookout; there may be others floating -upon the wreck. Call me if the doctor brings the body to life." - -The captain did not think it necessary to view the body that had been -snatched from the deep. The captain was a compassionate man and full of -tender feeling; he was exceedingly glad that he had had it in his power -to pick up that body, even with the small probability there was of being -able to restore life to its frozen blood; but he would have been much -more grateful to Providence had it been so willed that it should have -been picked up without the necessity of stopping the engines of the -steamer for nearly a quarter of an hour. It was explained to him that -Miss Gerald had been the first to see the face of the man upon the -wreck, but he could scarcely understand how it was possible for her to -have seen it from her cabin. He was also puzzled to know how it was that -the log-line had not been carried away so soon as it was entangled in -such a large mass of wreck when the steamer was going at full speed. -He, however, thought it as well to resume his broken slumbers without -waiting to solve either of these puzzling questions. - -But the chief officer who was now on watch, when the deck was once more -deserted--Daireen having been taken down to her cabin--made the attempt -to account for both of these occurrences. He found that the girl's cabin -was not far astern of the companion-rail that had been lowered during -the day, and he saw that, in the confusion of weighing anchor in the -dimness, a large block with its gear which was used in the hauling of -the vegetable baskets aboard, had been allowed to hang down the side of -the ship between the steps of the rail; and upon the hook of the block, -almost touching the water, he found some broken cordage. He knew then -that the hook had caught fast in the cordage of the wreck as the steamer -went past, and the wreck had swung round until it was just opposite the -girl's cabin, when the cordage had given way; not, however, until some -of the motion of the ship had been communicated to the wreck so that -there was no abrupt strain put on the log-line when it had become -entangled. It was all plain to the chief officer, as no doubt it would -have been to the captain had he waited to search out the matter. - -So soon as the body had been brought aboard the ship all the interest of -the passengers seemed to subside, and the doctor was allowed to pursue -his experiments of resuscitation without inquiry. The chief officer -being engaged at his own business of working out the question of the -endurance of the log-line, and keeping a careful lookout for any other -portions of wreck, had almost forgotten that the doctor and two of the -sailors were applying a series of restoratives to the body of the man -who had been detached from the wreck. It was nearly two hours after he -had come on watch that one of the sailors--the one who had been kneeling -by the side of Daireen--came up to the chief officer presenting Doctor -Campion's compliments, with the information that the man was breathing. - -In accordance with the captain's instructions, the chief officer knocked -at the cabin door and repeated the message. - -"Breathing is he?" said the captain rather sleepily. "Very good, Mr. -Holden; I'm glad to hear it. Just call me again in case he should -relapse." - -The captain had hitherto, in alluding to the man, made use of the neuter -pronoun, but now that breath was restored he acknowledged his right to a -gender. - -"Very good, sir," replied the officer, closing the door. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - -```Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd, - -```Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, - -```Be thy intents wicked or charitable, - -```Thou com'st in such a questionable shape.= - -````What may this mean - -```That thou, dead corse, again... - -```Revisit'st thus...?= - -````I hope your virtues - -```Will bring him to his wonted way again.--_Hamlet._= - - -|IT was the general opinion in the cabin that Miss Gerald--the young -lady who was in such an exclusive set--had shown very doubtful taste in -being the first to discover the man upon the wreck. Every one had, -of course, heard the particulars of the matter from the steward's -assistants, who had in turn been in communication with the watch on -deck. At any rate, it was felt by the ladies that it showed exceedingly -bad taste in Miss Gerald to take such steps as eventually led to the -ladies appearing on deck in incomplete toilettes. There was, indeed, a -very pronounced feeling against Miss Gerald; several representatives of -the other sections of the cabin society declaring that they could not -conscientiously admit Miss Gerald into their intimacy. That dreadful -designing old woman, the major's wife, might do as she pleased, they -declared, and so might Mrs. Butler and her daughter, who were only the -near relatives of some Colonial Governor, but such precedents should -be by no means followed, the ladies of this section announced to each -other. But as Daireen had never hitherto found it necessary to fall back -upon any of the passengers outside her own set, the resolution of the -others, even if it had come to her ears, would not have caused her any -great despondency. - -The captain made some inquiries of the doctor in the morning, and -learned that the rescued man was breathing, though still unconscious. -Mr. Harwood showed even a greater anxiety to hear from Mrs. Crawford -about Daireen, after the terrible night she had gone through, and he -felt no doubt proportionately happy when he was told that she was now -sleeping, having passed some hours in feverish excitement. Daireen had -described to Mrs. Crawford how she had seen the face looking up to her -from the water, and Mr. Harwood, hearing this, and making a careful -examination of the outside of the ship in the neighbourhood of Daireen's -cabin, came to the same conclusion as that at which the chief officer -had arrived. - -Mrs. Crawford tried to make Mr. Glaston equally interested in her -protge, but she was scarcely successful. - -"How brave it was in the dear child, was it not, Mr. Glaston?" she -asked. "Just imagine her glancing casually out of the port--thinking, it -maybe, of her father, who is perhaps dying at the Cape"--the good -lady felt that this bit of poetical pathos might work wonders with Mr. -Glaston--"and then," she continued, "fancy her seeing that terrible, -ghastly thing in the water beneath her! What must her feelings have been -as she rushed on deck and gave the alarm that caused that poor wretch to -be saved! Wonderful, is it not?" - -But Mr. Glaston's face was quite devoid of expression on hearing this -powerful narrative. The introduction of the pathos even did not make him -wince; and there was a considerable pause before he said the few words -that he did. - -"Poor child," he murmured. "Poor child. It was very -melodramatic--terribly melodramatic; but she is still young, her taste -is--ah--plastic. At least I hope so." - -Mrs. Crawford began to feel that, after all, it was something to have -gained this expression of hope from Mr. Glaston, though her warmth of -feeling did undoubtedly receive a chill from his manner. She did not -reflect that there is a certain etiquette to be observed in the saving -of the bodies as well as the souls of people, and that the aesthetic -element, in the opinion of some people, should enter largely into every -scheme of salvation, corporeal as well as spiritual. - -The doctor was sitting with Major Crawford when the lady joined them a -few minutes after her conversation with Mr. Glaston, and never had Mrs. -Crawford fancied that her husband's old friend could talk in such an -affectionate way as he now did about the rescued man. She could almost -bring herself to believe that she saw the tears of emotion in his eyes -as he detailed the circumstances of the man's resuscitation. The doctor -felt personally obliged to him for his handsome behaviour in bearing -such testimony to the skill of his resuscitator. - -When the lady spoke of the possibilities of a relapse, the doctor's -eyes glistened at first, but under the influence of maturer thought, -he sighed and shook his head. No, he knew that there are limits to the -generosity of even a half-strangled man--a relapse was too much to hope -for; but the doctor felt at that instant that if this "case" should -see its way to a relapse, and subsequently to submit to be restored, it -would place itself under a lasting obligation to its physician. - -Surely, thought Mrs. Crawford, when the doctor talks of the stranger -with such enthusiasm he will go into raptures about Daireen; so she -quietly alluded to the girl's achievement. But the doctor could see no -reason for becoming ecstatic about Miss Gerald. Five minutes with the -smelling-bottle had restored her to consciousness. - -"Quite a trifle--overstrung nerves, you know," he said, as he lit -another cheroot. - -"But think of her bravery in keeping strong until she had told you all -that she had seen!" said the lady. "I never heard of anything so -brave! Just fancy her looking out of the port--thinking of her father -perhaps"--the lady went on to the end of that pathetic sentence of hers, -but it had no effect upon the doctor. - -"True, very true!" he muttered, looking at his watch. - -But the major was secretly convulsed for some moments after his wife had -spoken her choice piece of pathos, and though he did not betray himself, -she knew well all that was in his mind, and so turned away without a -further word. So soon as she was out of hearing, the major exchanged -confidential chuckles with his old comrade. - -"He is not what you'd call a handsome man as he lies at present, -Campion," remarked Mr. Harwood, strolling up later in the day. "But you -did well not to send him to the forecastle, I think; he has not been a -sailor." - -"I know it, my boy," said the doctor. "He is not a handsome man, you -say, and I agree with you that he is not seen to advantage just now; -but I made up my mind an hour after I saw him that he was not for the -forecastle, or even the forecabin." - -"I dare say you are right," said Harwood. "Yes; there is a something in -his look that half drowning could not kill. That was the sort of thing -you felt, eh?" - -"Nothing like it," said the mild physician. "It was this," he took out -of his pocket an envelope, from which he extracted a document that he -handed to Harwood. - -It was an order for four hundred pounds, payable by a certain bank in -England, and granted by the Sydney branch of the Australasian Banking -Company to one Mr. Oswin Markham. - -"Ah, I see; he is a gentleman," said Harwood, returning the order. It -had evidently suffered a sea-change, but it had been carefully dried by -the doctor. - -"Yes, he is a gentleman," said the doctor. "That is what I remarked when -I found this in a flask in one of his pockets. Sharp thing to do, -to keep a paper free from damp and yet to have it in a buoyant case. -Devilish sharp thing!" - -"And the man's name is this--Oswin Markham?" said the major. - -"No doubt about it," said the doctor. - -"None whatever; unless he stole the order from the rightful owner, and -meant to get it cashed at his leisure," remarked Harwood. - -"Then he must have stolen the shirt, the collar, and the socks of Oswin -Markham," snarled the doctor. "All these things of his are marked as -plain as red silk can do it." - -"Any man who would steal an order for four hundred pounds would not -hesitate about a few toilet necessaries." - -"Maybe you'll suggest to the skipper the need to put him in irons as -soon as he is sufficiently recovered to be conscious of an insult," -cried the doctor in an acrid way that received a sympathetic chuckle -from the major. "Young man, you've got your brain too full of fancies--a -devilish deal, sir; they do well enough retailed for the readers of the -_Dominant Trumpeter_, but sensible people don't want to hear them." - -"Then I won't force them upon you and Crawford, my dear Campion," said -Harwood, walking away, for he knew that upon some occasions the doctor -should be conciliated, and in the matter of a patient every allowance -should be made for his warmth of feeling. So long as one of his "cases" -paid his skill the compliment of surviving any danger, he spoke well of -the patient; but when one behaved so unhandsomely as to die, it was with -the doctor _De mortuis nil nisi malum_. Harwood knew this, and so he -walked away. - -And now that he found himself--or rather made himself--alone, he thought -over all the events of the previous eventful day; but somehow there did -not seem to be any event worth remembering that was not associated with -Daireen Gerald. He recollected how he had watched her when they had been -together among the lovely gardens of the island slope. As she turned her -eyes seaward with an earnest, sad, _questioning_ gaze, he felt that he -had never seen a picture so full of beauty. - -The words he had spoken to her, telling her that the day he had spent on -the island was the happiest of his life, were true indeed; he had -never felt so happy; and now as he reflected upon his after-words his -conscience smote him for having pretended to her that he was thinking of -the place where he knew her thoughts had carried her: he had seen from -her face that she was dreaming about her Irish home, and he had made her -feel that the recollection of the lough and the mountains was upon his -mind also. He felt now how coarse had been his deception. - -He then recalled the final scene of the night, when, as he was trying -to pursue his own course of thought, and at the same time pretend to be -listening to the major's thrice-told tale of a certain colonel's conduct -at the Arradambad station, the girl had appeared before them like a -vision. Yes, it was altogether a remarkable day even for a special -correspondent. The reflection upon its events made him very thoughtful -during the entire of this afternoon. Nor was he at all disturbed by the -information Doctor Campion brought vo him just when he was going for his -usual smoke upon the bridge, while the shore of Palma was yet in view -not far astern. - -"Good fellow he is," murmured the doctor. "Capital fellow! opened his -eyes just now when I was in his cabin--recovered consciousness in a -moment." - -"Ah, in a moment?" said Harwood dubiously. "I thought it always needed -the existence of some link of consciousness between the past and -the present to bring about a restoration like this--some familiar -sight--some well-known sound." - -"And, by George, you are right, my boy, this time, though you are a -'special,'" said the doctor, grinning. "Yes, I was standing by the -fellow's bunk when I heard Crawford call for another bottle of soda. -Robinson got it for him, and bang went the cork, of course; a faint -smile stole over the haggard features, my boy, the glassy eyes opened -full of intelligence and with a mine of pleasant recollections. That -familiar sound of the popping of the cork acted as the link you talk of. -He saw all in a moment, and tried to put out his hand to me. 'My boy,' -I said, 'you've behaved most handsomely, and I'll get you a glass of -brandy out of another bottle, but don't you try to speak for another -day.' And I got him a glass from Crawford, though, by George, sir, -Crawford grudged it; he didn't see the sentiment of the thing, sir, and -when I tried to explain it, he said I was welcome to the cork." - -"Capital tale for an advertisement of the brandy," said Harwood. - -Then the doctor with many smiles hastened to spread abroad the story -of the considerate behaviour of his patient, and Harwood was left to -continue his twilight meditations alone once more. He was sitting in -his deck-chair on the ship's bridge, and he could but dimly hear the -laughter and the chat of the passengers far astern. He did not remain -for long in this dreamy mood of his, for Mrs. Crawford and Daireen -Gerald were seen coming up the rail, and he hastened to meet them. The -girl was very pale but smiling, and in the soft twilight she seemed very -lovely. - -"I am so glad to see you," he said, as he settled a chair for her. "I -feared a great many things when you did not appear to-day." - -"We must not talk too much," said Mrs. Crawford, who had not expected to -find Mr. Harwood alone in this place. "I brought Miss Gerard up here in -order that she might not be subjected to the gaze of those colonists -on the deck; a little quiet is what she needs to restore her completely -from her shock." - -"It was very foolish, I am afraid you think--very foolish of me to -behave as I did," said Daireen, with a faint little smile. "But I had -been asleep in my cabin, and I--I was not so strong as I should have -been. The next time I hope I shall not be so very stupid." - -"My dear Miss Gerald," said Harwood, "you behaved as a heroine. There -is no woman aboard the ship--Mrs. Crawford of course excepted--who would -have had courage to do what you did." - -"And he," said the girl somewhat eagerly--"he--is he really safe?--has -he recovered? Tell me all, Mr. Harwood." - -"No, no!" cried Mrs. Crawford, interposing. "You must not speak a word -about him. Do you want to be thrown into a fresh state of excitement, my -dear, now that you are getting on so nicely?" - -"But I am more excited remaining as I am in doubt about that poor man. -Was he a sailor, Mr. Harwood?" - -"It appears-not," said Harwood. "The doctor, however, is returning; he -will tell all that is safe to be told." - -"I really must protest," said Mrs. Crawford. "Well, I will be a good -girl and not ask for any information whatever," said Daireen. - -But she was not destined to remain in complete ignorance on the subject -which might reasonably be expected to interest her, for the doctor on -seeing her hastened up, and, of course, Mrs. Crawford's protest was weak -against his judgment. - -"My dear young lady," he cried, shaking Daireen warmly by the hand. "You -are anxious to know the sequel of the romance of last night, I am sure?" - -"No, no, Doctor Campion," said Daireen almost mischievously; "Mrs. -Crawford says I must hear nothing, and think about nothing, all this -evening. Did you not say so, Mrs. Crawford?" - -"My dear child, Doctor Campion is supposed to know much better than -myself how you should be treated in your present nervous condition. -If he chooses to talk to you for an hour or two hours about drowning -wretches, he may do so on his own responsibility." - -"Drowning wretches!" said the doctor. "My dear madam, you have not been -told all, or you would not talk in this way. He is no drowning wretch, -but a gentleman; look at this--ah, I forgot it's not light enough for -you to see the document, but Harwood there will tell you all that it -contains." - -"And what does that wonderful document contain, Mr. Harwood?" asked Mrs. -Crawford. "Tell us, please, and we shall drop the subject." - -"That document," said Harwood, with affected solemnity; "it is a -guarantee of the respectability of the possessor; it is a bank order -for four hundred pounds, payable to one Oswin Markham, and it was, -I understand, found upon the person of the man who has just been -resuscitated through the skill of our good friend Doctor Campion." - -"Now you will not call him a poor wretch, I am sure," said the doctor. -"He has now fully recovered consciousness, and, you see, he is a -gentleman." - -"You see that, no doubt, Mrs. Crawford," said Harwood, in a tone that -made the good physician long to have him for a few weeks on the sick -list--the way the doctor had of paying off old scores. - -"Don't be sarcastic, Mr. Harwood," said Daireen. Then she added, "What -did you say the name was?--Oswin Markham? I like it--I like it very -much." - -"Hush," said Mrs. Crawford. "Here is Mr. Glaston." And it was indeed Mr. -Glaston who ascended the rail with a languor of motion in keeping with -the hour of twilight. With a few muttered words the doctor walked away. - -"I hear," said Mr. Glaston, after he had shaken hands with Daireen--"I -hear that there was some wreck or other picked up last night with a man -clinging to it--a dreadfully vulgar fellow he must be to carry about -with him a lot of money--a man with a name like what one would find -attached to the hero of an East End melodrama." - -There was a rather lengthened silence in that little group before -Harwood spoke. - -"Yes," he said; "it struck me that it showed very questionable taste in -the man to go about flaunting his money in the face of every one he met. -As for his name--well, perhaps we had better not say anything about his -name. You recollect what Tennyson makes Sir Tristram say to his Isolt--I -don't mean you, Glaston, I know you only read the pre-Raphaelites-- - -"Let be thy Mark, seeing he is not thine." - -But no one seemed to remember the quotation, or, at any rate, to see the -happiness of its present application. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - -```It beckons you to go away with it, - -```As if it some impartment did desire - -```To you alone.= - -`````... Weigh what loss - -```If with too credent ear you list his songs - -```Or lose your heart... - -```Fear it, Ophelia, fear it.--_Hamlet._= - - -|IT could hardly be expected that there should be in the mind of Daireen -Gerald a total absence of interest in the man who by her aid had been -rescued from the deep. To be sure, her friend Mrs. Crawford had given -her to understand that people of taste might pronounce the episode -melodramatic, and as this word sounded very terrible to Daireen, as, -indeed, it did to Mrs. Crawford herself, whose apprehension of its -meaning was about as vague as the girl's, she never betrayed the anxiety -she felt for the recovery of this man, who was, she thought, equally -accountable for the dubious taste displayed in the circumstances of -his rescue. She began to feel, as Mr. Glaston in his delicacy carefully -refrained from alluding to this night of terror, and as Mrs. Crawford -assumed a solemn expression of countenance upon the least reference -to the girl's participation in the recovery of the man with the -melodramatic name, that there was a certain bond of sympathy between -herself and this Oswin Markham; and now and again when she found the -doctor alone, she ventured to make some inquiries regarding him. In the -course of a few days she learned a good deal. - -"He is behaving handsomely--most handsomely, my dear," said the doctor, -one afternoon about a week after the occurrence. "He eats everything -that is given to him and drinks in a like proportion." - -The girl felt that this was truly noble on the part of the man, but it -was scarcely the exact type of information she would have liked. - -"And he--is he able to speak yet?" she asked. - -"Speak? yes, to be sure. He asked me how he came to be picked up, and -I told him," continued the doctor, with a smile of gallantry of which -Daireen did not believe him capable, "that he was seen by the most -charming young lady in the world,--yes, yes, I told him that, though -I ran a chance of retarding his recovery by doing so." This was, of -course, quite delightful to hear, but Daireen wanted to know even more -about the stranger than the doctor's speech had conveyed to her. - -"The poor fellow was a long time in the water, I suppose?" she said -artfully, trying to find out all that the doctor had learned. - -"He was four days upon that piece of wreck," said the doctor. - -The girl gave a start that seemed very like a shudder, as she repeated -the words, "Four days." - -"Yes; he was on his way home from Australia, where he had been -living for some years, and the vessel he was in was commanded by some -incompetent and drunken idiot who allowed it to be struck by a tornado -of no extraordinary violence, and to founder in mid-ocean. As our friend -was a passenger, he says, the crew did not think it necessary to invite -him to have a seat in one of the boats, a fact that accounts for his -being alive to-day, for both boats were swamped and every soul sent to -the bottom in his view. He tells me he managed to lash a broken topmast -to the stump of the mainmast that had gone by the board, and to cut the -rigging so that he was left drifting when the hull went down. That's all -the story, my dear, only we know what a hard time of it he must have had -during the four days." - -"A hard time--a hard time," Daireen repeated musingly, and without a -further word she turned away. - -Mr. Glaston, who had been pleased to take a merciful view of her recent -action of so pronounced a type, found that his gracious attempts to -reform her plastic taste did not, during this evening, meet with that -appreciation of which they were undoubtedly deserving. Had he been aware -that all the time his eloquent speech was flowing on the subject of -the consciousness of hues--a theme attractive on account of its -delicacy--the girl had before her eyes only a vision of heavy blue skies -overhanging dark green seas terrible in loneliness--the monotony of -endless waves broken only by the appearance in the centre of the waste -of a broken mast and a ghastly face and clinging lean hands upon it, -he would probably have withdrawn the concession he had made to Mrs. -Crawford regarding the taste of her protge. - -And indeed, Daireen was not during any of these days thinking about much -besides this Oswin Markham, though she never mentioned his name even -to the doctor. At nights when she would look out over the flashing -phosphorescent waters, she would evermore seem to see that white face -looking up at her; but now she neither started nor shuddered as she was -used to do for a few nights after she had seen the real face there. It -seemed to her now as a face that she knew--the face of a friend looking -into her face from the dim uncertain surface of the sea of a dream. - -One morning a few days after her most interesting chat with Doctor -Campion, she got up even earlier than usual--before, in fact, the -healthy pedestrian gentleman had completed his first mile, and went on -deck. She had, however, just stepped out of the companion when she heard -voices and a laugh or two coming from the stern. She glanced in the -direction of the sounds and remained motionless at the cabin door. -A group consisting of the major, the doctor, and the captain of the -steamer were standing in the neighbourhood of the wheel; but upon a -deck-chair, amongst a heap of cushions, a stranger was lying back--a -man with a thin brown face and large, somewhat sunken eyes, and a short -brown beard and moustache; he was holding a cigar in the fingers of -his left hand that drooped over the arm of the chair--a long, white -hand--and he was looking up to the face of the major, who was telling -one of his usual stories with his accustomed power. None of the other -passengers were on deck, with the exception of the pedestrian, who came -into view every few minutes as he reached the after part of the ship. - -She stood there at the door of the companion without any motion, looking -at that haggard face of the stranger. She saw a faint smile light up his -deep eyes and pass over his features as the major brought out the full -piquancy of his little anecdote, which was certainly not _virginibus -puerisque_. Then she turned and went down again to her cabin without -seeing how a young sailor was standing gazing at her from the passage -of the ship's bridge. She sat down in her cabin and waited until the -ringing of the second bell for breakfast. - -"You are getting dreadfully lazy, my dear," said Mrs. Crawford, as she -took her seat by the girl's side. "Why were you not up as usual to get -an appetite for breakfast?" Then without waiting for an answer, she -whispered, "Do you see the stranger at the other side of the table? That -is our friend Mr. Oswin Markham; his name does not sound so queer when -you come to know him. The doctor was right, Daireen: he is a gentleman." - -"Then you have----" - -"Yes, I have made his acquaintance this morning already. I hope Mr. -Glaston may not think that it was my fault." - -"Mr. Glaston?" said Daireen. . - -"Yes; you know he is so sensitive in matters like this; he might -fancy that it would be better to leave this stranger by himself; but -considering that he will be parting from the ship in a week, I don't -think I was wrong to let my husband present me. At any rate he is a -gentleman--that is one satisfaction." - -Daireen felt that there was every reason to be glad that she was not -placed in the unhappy position of having taken steps for the rescue of a -person not accustomed to mix in good society. But she did not even once -glance down towards the man whose standing had been by a competent judge -pronounced satisfactory. She herself talked so little, however, that she -could hear him speak in answer to the questions some good-natured people -at the bottom of the table put to him, regarding the name of his ship -and the circumstances of the catastrophe that had come upon it. She also -heard the young lady who had the peculiar fancy for blue and pink beg of -him to do her the favour of writing his name in her birthday book. - -During the hours that elapsed before tiffin Daireen sat with a novel in -her hand, and she knew that the stranger was on the ship's bridge with -Major Crawford. The major found his company exceedingly agreeable, for -the old officer had unfortunately been prodigal of his stories through -the first week of the voyage, and lately he had been reminded that he -was repeating himself when he had begun a really choice anecdote. This -Mr. Markham, however, had never been in India, so that the major found -in him an appreciative audience, and for the satisfactory narration of -a chronicle of Hindustan an appreciative audience is an important -consideration. The major, however, appeared alone at tiffin, for Mr. -Markham, he said, preferred lying in the sun on the bridge to eating -salad in the cabin. The young lady with the birthday book seemed a -little disappointed, for she had just taken the bold step of adding to -her personal decorations a large artificial moss-rose with glass beads -sewed all about it in marvellous similitude to early dew, and it would -not bear being trifled with in the matter of detaching from her dress. - -Whether or not Mrs. Crawford had conferred with Mr. Glaston on the -subject of the isolation of Mr. Markham, Daireen, on coming to sit down -to the dinner-table, found Mrs. Crawford and Mr. Markham standing in -the saloon just at the entrance to her cabin. She could feel herself -flushing as she looked up to the man's haggard face while Mrs. Crawford -pronounced their names, and she knew that the hand she put in his thin -fingers was trembling. Neither spoke a single word: they only looked at -each other. Then the doctor came forward with some remark that Daireen -did not seem to hear, and soon the table was surrounded with the -passengers. - -"He says he feels nearly as strong as he ever did," whispered Mrs. -Crawford to the girl as they sat down together. "He will be able to -leave us at St. Helena next week without doubt." - -On the same evening Daireen was sitting in her usual place far astern. -The sun had set some time, and the latitude being only a few degrees -south of the equator, the darkness had already almost come down upon -the waters. It was dimmer than twilight, but not the solid darkness of -a tropical night. The groups of passengers had all dispersed or gone -forward, and the only sounds were the whisperings of the water in the -wake of the steamer, and the splashing of the flying fish. - -Suddenly from the cabin there came the music of the piano, and a low -voice singing to its accompaniment--so faint it came that Daireen knew -no one on deck except herself could hear the voice, for she was sitting -just beside the open fanlight of the saloon; but she heard every word -that was sung: - - -I. - - -```When the vesper gold has waned: - -````When the passion-hues of eve - -````Breathe themselves away and leave - -```Blue the heaven their crimson stained, - -````But one hour the world doth grieve, - -````For the shadowy skies receive - -```Stars so gracious-sweet that they - -```Make night more beloved than day.= - - -II - - -```From my life the light has waned: - -````Every golden gleam that shone - -````Through the dimness now las 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?"= - - -|IT ended so faintly that Daireen Gerald could not tell when the last -note had come. She felt that she was in a dream and the sounds she had -heard were but a part of her dream--sounds? were these sounds, or -merely the effect of breathing the lovely shadowy light that swathed the -waters? The sounds seemed to her the twilight expressed in music. - -Then in the silence she heard a voice speaking her name. She turned and -saw Oswin Markham standing beside her. - -"Miss Gerald," he said, "I owe my life to you. I thank you for it." - -He could hardly have expressed himself more simply if he had been -thanking her for passing him a fig at dinner, and yet his words thrilled -her. - -"No, no; do not say that," she said, in a startled voice. "I did -nothing--nothing that any one else might not have done. Oh, do not talk -of it, please." - -"I will not," he said slowly, after a pause. "I will never talk of -it again. I was a fool to speak of it to you. I know now that you -understand--that there is no need for me to open my lips to you." - -"I do indeed," she said, turning her eyes upon his face. "I do -understand." She put out her hand, and he took it in his own--not -fervently, not with the least expression of emotion, his fingers closed -over it. A long time passed before she saw his face in front of her own, -and felt his eyes looking into her eyes as his words came in a whisper, -"Child--child, there is a bond between us--a bond whose token is -silence." - -She kept her eyes fixed upon his as he spoke, and long after his words -had come. She knew he had spoken the truth: there was a bond between -them. She understood it. - -She saw the gaunt face with its large eyes close to her own; her -own eyes filled with tears, and then came the first token of their -bond--silence. She felt his grasp unloosed, she heard him moving away, -and she knew that she was alone in the silence. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - -````Give him heedful note; - -```For I mine eyes will rivet to his face, - -```And after we will both our judgments join.= - -``Thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart: but it is no -matter.= - -```You must needs have heard, how I am punish'd - -```With sore distraction. What I have done - -```I here proclaim was madness.--_Hamlet._= - - -|IT was very generally thought that it was a fortunate circumstance -for Mr. Oswin Markham that there chanced to be in the fore-cabin of -the steamer an enterprising American speculator who was taking out -some hundred dozens of ready-made garments for disposal to the diamond -miners--and an equal quantity of less durable clothing, in which he had -been induced to invest some money with a view to the ultimate adoption -of clothing by the Kafir nation. He explained how he had secured the -services of a hard-working missionary whom he had sent as agent in -advance to endeavour to convince the natives that if they ever wished -to gain a footing among great nations, the auxiliary of clothing towards -the effecting of their object was worth taking into consideration. When -the market for these garments would thus be created, the speculator -hoped to arrive on the scene and make a tolerable sum of money. In rear -of his missionary, he had scoured most of the islands of the Pacific -with very satisfactory results; and he said he felt that, if he could -but prevail upon his missionary in advance to keep steady, a large work -of evangelisation could be done in South Africa. - -By the aid of this enterprising person, Mr. Markham was able to clothe -himself without borrowing from any of the passengers. But about the -payment for his purchases there seemed likely to be some difficulty. The -bank order for four hundred pounds was once again in the possession of -Mr. Markham, but it was payable in England, and how then could he effect -the transfer of the few pounds he owed the American speculator, when he -was to leave the vessel at St. Helena? There was no agency of the bank -at this island, though there was one at the Cape, and thus the question -of payment became somewhat difficult to solve. - -"Do you want to leave the craft at St. Helena, mister?" asked the -American, stroking his chin thoughtfully. - -"I do," said Mr. Markham. "I must leave at the island and take the first -ship to England." - -"It's the awkwardest place on God's footstool, this St. Helena, isn't -it?" said the American. - -"I don't see that it is; why do you say so?" - -"Only that I don't see why you want so partickler to land thar, mister. -Maybe you'll change yer mind, eh?" - -"I have said that I must part from this ship there," exclaimed Mr. -Markham almost impatiently. "I must get this order reduced to money -somehow." - -"Wal, I reckon that's about the point, mister." said the speculator. -"But you see if you want to fly it as you say, you'll not breeze about -that it's needful for you to cut the craft before you come to the Cape. -I'd half a mind to try and trade with you for that bit of paper ten -minutes ago, but I reckon that's not what's the matter with me now. No, -_sir_; if you want to get rid of that paper without much trouble, just -you give out that you don't care if you do go on to the Cape; maybe a -nibble will come from that." - -"I don't know what you mean, my good fellow," said Markham; "but I can -only repeat that I will not go on to the Cape. I shall get the money -somehow and pay you before I leave, for surely the order is as good as -money to any one living in the midst of civilisation. I don't suppose a -savage would understand it, but I can't see what objection any one in -business could make to receiving it at its full value." - -The American screwed up his mouth in a peculiar fashion, and smiled in -a still more peculiar fashion. He rather fancied he had a small piece -of tobacco in his waistcoat pocket, nor did the result of a search show -that he was mistaken; he extracted the succulent morsel and put it into -his mouth. Then he winked at Mr. Markham, put his hands in his pockets, -and walked slowly away without a word. - -Markham looked after him with a puzzled expression. He did not know -what the man meant to convey by his nods and his becks and his wreathed -smiles. But just at this moment Mr. Harwood came up; he had of course -previously made the acquaintance of Markham. - -"I suppose we shall soon be losing you?" said Harwood, offering him a -cigar. "You said, I think, that you would be leaving us at St. Helena?" - -"Yes, I leave at St. Helena, and we shall be there in a few days. You -see, I am now nearly as strong as ever, thanks to Campion, and it is -important for me to get to England at once." - -"No doubt," said Harwood; "your relatives will be very anxious if they -hear of the loss of the vessel you were in." - -Markham gave a little laugh, as he said, "I have no relatives; and as -for friends--well, I suppose I shall have a number now." - -"Now?" - -"Yes; the fact is I was on my way home from Australia to take up a -certain property which my father left to me in England. He died six -months ago, and the solicitors for the estate sent me out a considerable -sum of money in case I should need it in Australia--this order for four -hundred pounds is what remains of it." - -"I can now easily understand your desire to be at home and settled -down," said Harwood. - -"I don't mean to settle down," replied Markham. "There are a good many -places to be seen in the world, small as it is." - -"A man who has knocked about in the Colonies is generally glad to settle -down at home," remarked Harwood. - -"No doubt that is the rule, but I fear I am all awry so far as rules -are concerned. I haven't allowed my life to be subject to many rules, -hitherto. Would to God I had! It is not a pleasant recollection for a -son to go through life with, Harwood, that his father has died without -becoming reconciled to him--especially when he knows that his father has -died leaving him a couple of thousands a year." - -"And you----" - -"I am such a son," said Markham, turning round suddenly. "I did all that -I could to make my father's life miserable till--a climax came, and I -found myself in Australia three years ago with an allowance sufficient -to keep me from ever being in want. But I forget, I'm not a modern -Ancient Mariner, wandering about boring people with my sad story." - -"No," said Harwood, "you are not, I should hope. Nor am I so pressed for -time just now as the wedding guest. You did not go in for a sheep-run in -Australia?" - -"Nothing of the sort," laughed the other. "The only thing I went in for -was getting through my allowance, until that letter came that sobered -me--that letter telling me that my father was dead, and that every penny -he had possessed was mine. Harwood, you have heard of people's hair -turning white in a few hours, but you have not often heard of natures -changing from black to white in a short space; believe me it was so with -me. The idea that theologians used to have long ago about souls passing -from earth to heaven in a moment might well be believed by me, knowing -as I do how my soul was transformed by that letter. I cast my old life -behind me, though I did not tell any one about me what had happened. I -left my companions and said to them that I was going up country. I did -go up country, but I returned in a few days and got aboard the first -ship that was sailing for England, and--here I am." - -"And you mean to renew your life of wandering when you reach England?" -said Harwood, after a pause. - -"It is all that there is left for me," said the man bitterly, though a -change in his tone would have made his words seem very pitiful. "I am -not such a fool as to fancy that a man can sow tares and reap wheat. The -spring of my life is over, and also the summer, the seed-time and the -ripening; shall the harvest be delayed then? No, I am not such a fool." - -"I cannot see that you might not rest at home," said Harwood. "Surely -you have some associations in England." - -"Not one that is not wretched." - -"But a man of good family with some money is always certain to make new -associations for himself, no matter what his life has been. Marriage, -for instance; it is, I think, an exceedingly sure way of squaring a -fellow up in life." - -"A very sure way indeed," laughed Markham. "Never mind; in another week -I shall be away from this society which has already become so pleasant -to me. Perhaps I shall knock up against you in some of the strange -places of the earth, Harwood." - -"I heartily hope so," said the other. "But I still cannot see why you -should not come on with us to the Cape. The voyage will completely -restore you, you can get your money changed there, and a steamer of this -company's will take you away two days after you land." - -"I cannot remain aboard this steamer," said Markham quickly. "I must -leave at St. Helena." Then he walked away with that shortness of -ceremony which steamer voyagers get into a habit of showing to each -other without giving offence. - -"Poor beggar!" muttered Harwood. "Wrecked in sight of the haven--a -pleasant haven--yes, if he is not an uncommonly good actor." He turned -round from where he was leaning over the ship's side smoking, and saw -the man with whom he had been talking seated in his chair by the side -of Daireen Gerald. He watched them for some time--for a long time--until -his cigar was smoked to the very end. He looked over the side -thoughtfully as he dropped the remnant and heard its little hiss in -the water; then he repeated his words, "a wreck." Once more he glanced -astern, and then he added thoughtfully, "Yes, he is right; he had much -better part at St. Helena--very much better." - -Mr. Markham seemed quite naturally to have found his place in Mrs. -Crawford's set, exclusive though it was; for somehow aboard ship a man -amalgamates only with that society for which he is suited; a man is -seldom to be found out of place on account of certain considerations -such as one meets on shore. Not even Mr. Glaston could raise any protest -against Mr. Markham's right to take a place in the midst of the elect -of the cabin. But the young lady in whose birthday book Mr. Markham had -inscribed his name upon the first day of his appearance at the table, -thought it very unkind of him to join the band who had failed to -appreciate her toilet splendours. - -During the day on which he gave Harwood his brief autobiographical -outline, Mr. Oswin Markham was frequently by the side of Miss Gerald and -Mrs. Crawford. But towards night the major felt that it would be -unjust to allow him to be defrauded of the due amount of narratory -entertainment so necessary for his comfort; and with these excellent -intentions drew him away from the others of the set, and, sitting on the -secluded bridge, brought forth from the abundant resources of his memory -a few well-defined anecdotes of that lively Arradambad station. But -all the while the major was narrating the stories he could see that -Markham's soul was otherwhere, and he began to be disappointed in Mr. -Markham. - -"I mustn't bore you, Markham, my boy," he said as he rose, after having -whiled away about two hours of the night in this agreeable occupation. -"No, I mustn't bore you, and you look, upon my soul, as if you had been -suffering." - -"No, no, I assure you, I never enjoyed anything more than that story -of--of--the Surgeon-General and the wife of--of--the Commissary." - -"The Adjutant-General, you mean," interrupted the major. - -"Of course, yes, the Adjutant; a deucedly good story!" - -"Ah, not bad, is it? But there goes six bells; I must think about -turning in. Come and join me in a glass of brandy-and-water." - -"No, no; not to-night--not to-night. The fact is I feel--I feel queer." - -"You're not quite set on your feet yet, my boy," said the major -critically. "Take care of yourself." And he walked away, wondering if it -was possible that he had been deceived in his estimate of the nature of -Mr. Markham. - -But Mr. Markham continued sitting alone in the silence of the deserted -deck. His thoughts were truly otherwhere. He lay back upon his seat and -kept his eyes fixed upon the sky--the sky of stars towards which he had -looked in agony for those four nights when nothing ever broke in -upon the dread loneliness of the barren sea but those starlights. The -terrible recollection of every moment he had passed returned to him. - -Then he thought how he had heard of men becoming, through sufferings -such as his, oblivious of everything of their past life--men who were -thus enabled to begin life anew without being racked by any dread -memories, the agony that they had endured being acknowledged by Heaven -as expiation of their past deeds. That was justice, he felt, and if this -justice had been done to these men, why had it been withheld from him? - -"Could God Himself have added to what I endured?" he said, in passionate -bitterness. "God! did I not suffer until my agony had overshot its -mark by destroying in me the power of feeling agony--my agony consumed -itself; I was dead--dead; and yet I am denied the power of beginning my -new life under the conditions which are my due. What more can God want -of man than his life? have I not paid that debt daily for four days?" He -rose from his chair and stood upright upon the deck with clenched hands -and lips. "It is past," he said, after a long pause. "From this hour -I throw the past beneath my feet. It is my right to forget all, and--I -have forgotten all--all." - -Mr. Harwood had truly reason to feel surprised when, on the following -day, Oswin Markham came up to him, and said quietly: - -"I believe you are right, Harwood: after all, it would be foolish for me -to part from the ship at St. Helena. I have decided to take your advice -and run on to the Cape." - -Harwood looked at him for a few moments before he answered slowly: - -"Ah, you have decided." - -"Yes; you see I am amenable to reason: I acknowledge the wisdom of my -counsellors." But Harwood made no answer, only continued with his -eyes fixed upon his face. "Hang it all," exclaimed Markham, "can't -you congratulate me upon my return to the side of reason? Can't you -acknowledge that you have been mistaken in me--that you find I am not so -pig-headed as you supposed?" - -"Yes," said Harwood; "you are not pig-headed." And, taking all things -into consideration, it can hardly be denied that Mr. Oswin Markham's -claim to be exempted from the class of persons called pig-headed was -well founded. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - -```'Tis told me he hath very oft of late - -```Given private time to you: and you yourself - -```Have of your audience been most free and bounteous.= - -```Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?--_Hamlet_. - - -|MRS. Crawford felt that she was being unkindly dealt with by Fate in -many matters. She had formed certain plans on coming aboard the steamer -and on taking in at a glance the position of every one about her--it was -her habit to do so on the occasion of her arrival at any new station in -the Indian Empire--and hitherto she had generally had the satisfaction -of witnessing the success of her plans; but now she began to fear that -if things continued to diverge so widely from the paths which it was -natural to expect them to have kept, her skilful devices would be -completely overthrown. - -Mrs. Crawford had within the first few hours of the voyage communicated -to her husband her intention of surprising Colonel Gerald on the arrival -of his daughter at the Cape; for he could scarcely fail to be surprised -and, of course, gratified, if he were made aware of the fact that his -daughter had conceived an attachment for a young man so distinguished -in many ways as the son of the Bishop of the Calapash Islands and -Metropolitan of the Salamander Archipelago--the style and titles of the -father of Mr. Glaston. - -But Daireen, instead of showing herself a docile subject and ready to -act according to the least suggestion of one who was so much wiser -and more experienced than herself, had begun to think and to act -most waywardly. Though she had gone ashore at Madeira contrary to Mr. -Glaston's advice, and had even ventured to assert, in the face of Mr. -Glaston's demonstration to the contrary, that she had spent a pleasant -day, yet Mrs. Crawford saw that it would be quite possible, by care and -thoughtfulness in the future, to overcome all the unhappy influences her -childishness would have upon the mind of Mr. Glaston. - -Being well aware of this, she had for some days great hope of her -protge; but then Daireen had apparently cast to the winds all her -sense of duty to those who were qualified to instruct her, for she -had not only disagreed from Mr. Glaston upon a theory he had expressed -regarding the symbolism of a certain design having for its -chief elements sections of pomegranates and conventionalised -daisies--Innocence allured by Ungovernable Passion was the parable -preached through the union of some tones of sage green and saffron, Mr. -Glaston assured the circle whom he had favoured with his views on this -subject--but she had also laughed when Mr. Harwood made some whispered -remark about the distressing diffusion of jaundice through the floral -creation. - -This was very sad to Mrs. Crawford. She was nearly angry with Daireen, -and if she could have afforded it, she would have been angry with Mr. -Harwood; she was, however, mindful of the influence of the letters she -hoped the special correspondent of the _Dominant Trumpeter_ would be -writing regarding the general satisfaction that was felt throughout -the colonies of South Africa that the Home Government had selected -so efficient and trustworthy an officer to discharge the duties in -connection with the Army Boot Commission, so she could not be anything -but most friendly towards Mr. Harwood. - -Then it was a great grief to Mrs. Crawford to see the man who, though -undoubtedly well educated and even cultured, was still a sort of -adventurer, seating himself more than once by the side of Daireen on the -deck, and to notice that the girl talked with him even when Mr. Glaston -was near--Mr. Glaston, who had referred to his sudden arrival aboard -the ship as being melodramatic. But on the day preceding the expected -arrival of the steamer at St. Helena, the well-meaning lady began to -feel almost happy once more, for she recollected how fixed had been Mr. -Markham's determination to leave the steamer at the island. Being almost -happy, she thought she might go so far as to express to the man the -grief which reflecting upon his departure excited. - -"We shall miss you from our little circle, I can assure you, Mr. -Markham," she said. "Your coming was so--so"--she thought of a -substitute for melodramatic--"so unexpected, and so--well, almost -romantic, that indeed it has left an impression upon all of us. Try and -get into a room in the hotel at James Town that the white ants haven't -devoured; I really envy you the delicious water-cress you will have -every day." - -"You will be spared the chance of committing that sin, Mrs. Crawford, -though I fear the penance which will be imposed upon you for having even -imagined it will be unjustly great. The fact is, I have been so weak as -to allow myself to be persuaded by Doctor Campion and Harwood to go on -to the Cape." - -"To go on to the Cape!" exclaimed the lady. - -"To go on to the Cape, Mrs. Crawford; so you see you will be bored with -me for another week." - -Mrs. Crawford looked utterly bewildered, as, indeed, she was. Her smile -was very faint as she said: - -"Ah, how nice; you have been persuaded. Ah, very pleasant it will be; -but how one may be deceived in judging of another's character! I really -formed the impression that you were firmness itself, Mr. Markham!" - -"So I am, Mrs. Crawford, except when my inclination tends in the -opposite direction to my resolution; then, I assure you, I can be led -with a strand of floss." - -This was, of course, very pleasant chat, and with the clink of -compliment about it, but it was anything but satisfactory to the lady to -whom it was addressed. She by no means felt in the mood for listening -to mere colloquialisms, even though they might be of the most brilliant -nature, which Mr. Markham's certainly were not. - -"Yes, I fancied that you were firmness itself," she repeated. "But you -allowed your mind to be changed by--by the doctor and Mr. Harwood." - -"Well, not wholly, to say the truth, Mrs. Crawford," he interposed. "It -is pitiful to have to confess that I am capable of being influenced by a -monetary matter; but so it is: the fact is, if I were to land now at St. -Helena, I should be not only penniless myself, but I should be obliged -also to run in debt for these garments that my friend Phineas F. Fulton -of Denver City supplied me with, not to speak of what I feel I owe to -the steamer itself; so I think it is better for me to get my paper money -turned into cash at the Cape, and then hurry homewards." - -"No doubt you understand your own business," said the lady, smiling -faintly as she walked away. - -Mr. Oswin Markham watched her for some moments in a thoughtful way. He -had known for a considerable time that the major's wife understood -her business, at any rate, and that she was also quite capable of -comprehending--nay, of directing as well--the business of every member -of her social circle. But how was it possible, he asked himself, that -she should have come to look upon his remaining for another week aboard -the steamer as a matter of concern? He was a close enough observer to be -able to see from her manner that she did so; but he could not understand -how she should regard him as of any importance in the arrangement of her -plans for the next week, whatever they might be. - -But Mrs. Crawford, so soon as she found herself by the side of Daireen -in the evening, resolved to satisfy herself upon the subject of the -influences which had been brought to bear upon Mr. Oswin Markham, -causing his character for determination to be lost for ever. - -Daireen was sitting alone far astern, and had just finished directing -some envelopes for letters to be sent home the next day from St. Helena. - -"What a capital habit to get into of writing on that little case on -your knee!" said Mrs. Crawford. "You have been on deck all day, you see, -while the other correspondents are shut down in the saloon. You have had -a good deal to tell the old people at that wonderful Irish lake of yours -since you wrote at Madeira." - -Daireen thought of all she had written regarding Standish, to prevent -his father becoming uneasy about him. - -"Oh, yes, I have had a good deal of news that will interest them," she -said. "I have told them that the Atlantic is not such a terrible place -after all. Why, we have not had even a breeze yet." - -"No, _we_ have not, but you should not forget, Daireen, the tornado that -at least one ship perished in." She looked gravely at the girl, -though she felt very pleased indeed to know that her protge had not -remembered this particular storm. "You have mentioned in your letters, I -hope, how Mr. Markham was saved?" - -"I believe I devoted an entire page to Mr. Markham," Daireen replied -with a smile. - -"That is right, my dear. You have also said, I am sure, how we all hope -he is--a--a gentleman." - -"_Hope?_" said Daireen quickly. Then she added after a pause, "No, -Mrs. Crawford, I don't think I said that. I only said that he would be -leaving us to-morrow." - -Mrs. Crawford's nicely sensitive ear detected, she fancied, a tinge of -regret in the girl's last tone. - -"Ah, he told you that he had made up his mind to leave the ship at St. -Helena, did he not?" she asked. - -"Of course he is to leave us there, Mrs. Crawford. Did you not -understand so?" - -"I did indeed; but I am disappointed in Mr. Markham. I thought that he -was everything that is firm. Yes, I am disappointed in him." - -"How?" said Daireen, with a little flush and an anxious movement of her -eyes. "How do you mean he has disappointed you?" - -"He is not going to leave us at St. Helena, Daireen; he is coming on -with us to the Cape." - -With sorrow and dismay Mrs. Crawford noticed Daireen's face undergo a -change from anxiety to pleasure; nor did she allow the little flush that -came to the girl's forehead to escape her observation. These changes of -countenance were almost terrifying to the lady. "It is the first time I -have had my confidence in him shaken," she added. "In spite of what Mr. -Harwood said of him I had not the least suspicion of this Mr. Markham, -but now----" - -"What did! Mr. Harwood say of him?" asked Daireen, with a touch of scorn -in her voice. - -"You need not get angry, Daireen, my child," replied Mrs. Crawford. - -"Angry, Mrs. Crawford? How could you fancy I was angry? Only what right -had this Mr. Harwood to say anything about Mr. Markham? Perhaps Mr. -Glaston was saying something too. I thought that as Mr. Markham was a -stranger every one here would treat him with consideration, and yet, you -see----" - -"Good gracious, Daireen, what can you possibly mean?" cried Mrs. -Crawford. "Not a soul has ever treated Mr. Markham except in good taste -from the day he came aboard this vessel. Of course young men will talk, -especially young newspaper men, and more especially young _Dominant. -Trumpeter_ men. For myself, you saw how readily I admitted Mr. Markham -into our set, though you will allow that, all things considered, I need -not have done so at all." - -"He was a stranger," said Daireen. - -"But he is not therefore an angel unawares, my dear," said Mrs. -Crawford, smiling as she patted the girl's hand in token of amity. "So -long as he meant, to be a stranger of course we were justified in making -him as pleasant as possible; but now, you see, he is not going to be a -stranger. But why should we talk upon so unprofitable a subject? Tell me -all the rest that you have been writing about." - -Daireen made an attempt to recollect what were the topics of her -letters, but she was not very successful in recalling them. - -"I told them about the--the albatross, how it has followed us so -faithfully," she said; "and how the Cape pigeons came to us yesterday." - -"Ah, indeed. Very nice it will be for the dear old people at home. Ah, -Daireen, how happy you are to have some place you can look back upon and -think of as your home. Here am I in my old age still a vagabond upon the -face of the earth. I have no home, dear." The lady felt that this piece -of pathos should touch the girl deeply. - -"No, no, don't say that, my dear Mrs. Crawford," Daireen said gently. -"Say that your dear kind goodnature makes you feel at home in every part -of the world." - -This was very nice Mrs. Crawford felt, as she kissed the face beside -her, but she did not therefore come to the conclusion that it would be -well to forget that little expression of pleasure which had flashed over -this same face a few minutes before. - -At this very hour upon the evening following the anchors were being -weighed, and the good steamer was already backing slowly out from the -place it had occupied in the midst of the little fleet of whale-ships -and East Indiamen beneath the grim shadow of that black ocean rock, St. -Helena. The church spire of James Town was just coming into view as -the motion of the ship disclosed a larger space of the gorge where the -little town is built. The flag was being hauled down from the spar -at the top of Ladder Hill, and the man was standing by the sunset gun -aboard H.M.S. _Cobra_. The last of the shore-boats was cast off from the -rail, and then, the anchor being reported in sight, the steamer put on -full speed ahead, the helm was made hard-a-starboard, and the vessel -swept round out of the harbour. - -Mr. Harwood and Major Crawford were in anxious conversation with an -engineer officer who had been summoned to the Cape to assist in a -certain council which was to be held regarding the attitude of a Kafir -chief who was inclined to be defiant of the lawful possessors of the -country. But Daireen was standing at the ship's side looking at that -wonderful line of mountain-wall connecting the batteries round the -island. Her thoughts were not, however, wholly of the days when -there was a reason why this little island should be the most strongly -fortified in the ocean. As the steamer moved gently round the dark -cliffs she was not reflecting upon what must have been the feelings of -the great emperor-general who had been accustomed to stand upon these -cliffs and to look seaward. Her thoughts were indeed undefined in their -course, and she knew this when she heard the voice of Oswin Markham -beside her. - -"Can you fancy what would be my thoughts at this time if I had kept to -my resolution--and if I were now up there among those big rocks?" he -asked. - -She shook her head, but did not utter a word in answer. - -"I wonder what would yours have been now if I had kept to my -resolution," he then said. - -"I cannot tell you, indeed," she answered. "I cannot fancy what I should -be thinking." - -"Nor can I tell you what my thought would be," he said after a pause. He -was leaning with one arm upon the moulding of the bulwarks, and she had -her eyes still fixed upon the ridges of the island. He touched her and -pointed out over the water. The sun like a shield of sparkling gold -had already buried half its disc beneath the horizon. They watched the -remainder become gradually less and less until only a thread of gold was -on the water; in another instant this had dwindled away. "I know now -how I should have felt," he said, with his eyes fixed upon the blank -horizon. - -The girl looked out to that blank horizon also. - -Then from each fort on the cliffs there leaped a little flash of light, -and the roar of the sunset guns made thunder all along the hollow shore; -before the echoes had given back the sound, faint bugle-calls were -borne out to the ocean as fort answered fort all along that line of -mountain-wall. The girl listened until the faintest farthest thin -sound dwindled away just as the last touch of sunlight had waned into -blankness upon the horizon. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - -```_Polonius_. What treasure had he, my lord? - -```_Hamlet_. Why, - -````"One fair daughter and no more, - -````The which he loved passing well."= - - -O my old friend, thy face is valanced since I saw thee last.... What, -my young lady and mistress! By'r lady, your ladyship is nearer to heaven -than when I saw you last.... You are all welcome.--_Hamlet._ - - -|HOWEVER varying, indefinite, and objectless the thoughts of Daireen -Gerald may have been--and they certainly were--during the earlier days -of the voyage, they were undoubtedly fixed and steadfast during the last -week. She knew that she could not hear anything of her father until she -would arrive at the Cape, and so she had allowed herself to be buoyed up -by the hopeful conversation of the major and Mrs. Crawford, who seemed -to think of her meeting with her father as a matter of certainty, and by -the various little excitements of every day. But now when she knew that -upon what the next few days would bring forth all the happiness of her -future life depended, what thought--what prayer but one, could she have? - -She was certainly not good company during these final days. Mr. Harwood -never got a word from her. Mr. Glaston did not make the attempt, though -he attributed her silence to remorse at having neglected his artistic -instructions. Major Crawford's gallantries received no smiling -recognition from her; and Mrs. Crawford's most motherly pieces of pathos -went by unheeded so far as Daireen was concerned. - -What on earth was the matter, Mrs. Crawford thought; could it be -possible that her worst fears were realised? she asked herself; and -she made a vow that even if Mr. Harwood had spoken a single word on the -subject of affection to Daireen, he should forfeit her own friendship -for ever. - -"My dear Daireen," she said, two days after leaving St. Helena, "you -know I love you as a daughter, and I have come to feel for you as -a mother might. I know something is the matter--what is it? you may -confide in me; indeed you may." - -"How good you are!" said the child of this adoption; "how very good! You -know all that is the matter, though you have in your kindness prevented -me from feeling it hitherto." - -"Good gracious, Daireen, you frighten me! No one can have been speaking -to you surely, while I am your guardian----" - -"You know what a wretched doubt there is in my mind now that I know -a few days will tell me all that can be told--you know the terrible -question that comes to me every day--every hour--shall I see him?--shall -he be--alive?" - -Even the young men, with no touches of motherly pathos about them, had -appreciated the girl's feelings in those days more readily than Mrs. -Crawford. - -"My poor dear little thing," she now said, fondling her in a way whose -soothing effect the combined efforts of all the young men could never -have approached. "Don't let the doubt enter your mind for an instant--it -positively must not. Your father is as well as I am to-day, I can assure -you. Can you disbelieve me? I know him a great deal better than you do; -and I know the Cape climate better than you do. Nonsense, my dear, no -one ever dies at the Cape--at least not when they go there to recover. -Now make your mind easy for the next three days." - -But for just this interval poor Daireen's mind was in a state of -anything but repose. - -During the last night the steamer would be on the voyage she found it -utterly impossible to go to sleep. She heard all of the bells struck -from watch to watch. Her cabin became stifling to her though a cool -breeze was passing through the opened port. She rose, dressed herself, -and went on deck though it was about two o'clock in the morning. It -was a terrible thing for a girl to do, but nothing could have prevented -Daireen's taking that step. She stood just outside the door of the -companion, and in the moonlight and soft air of the sea more ease of -mind came to her than she had yet felt on this voyage. - -While she stood there in the moonlight listening to the even whisperings -of the water as it parted away before the ship, and to the fitful -flights of the winged fish, she seemed to hear some order as she -thought, given from the forward part of the vessel. In another minute -the officer on watch hastened past her. She heard him knock at the -captain's cabin which was just aft of the deck-house, and make the -report. - -"Fixed light right ahead, sir." - -She knew then that the first glimpse of the land which they were -approaching had been obtained, and her anxiety gave place to peace. That -message of the light seemed to be ominous of good to her. She returned -to her cabin, and found it cool and tranquil, so that she fell asleep at -once; and when she next opened her eyes she saw a tall man standing with -folded arms beside her, gazing at her. She gave but one little cry, and -then that long drooping moustache of his was down upon her face and her -bare arms were about his neck. - -"Thank you, thank you, Dolly; that is a sufficiently close escape from -strangulation to make me respect your powers," said the man; and at the -sound of his voice Daireen turned her face to her pillow, while the man -shook out with spasmodic fingers his handkerchief from its folds and -endeavoured to repair the injury done to his moustache by the girl's -embrace. - -"Now, now, my Dolly," he said, after some convulsive mutterings which -Daireen could, of course, not hear; "now, now, don't you think it might -be as well to think of making some apology for your laziness instead of -trying to go asleep again?" - -Then she looked up with wondering eyes. - -"I don't understand anything at all," she cried. "How could I go asleep -when we were within four hours of the Cape? How could any one be so -cruel as to let me sleep so dreadfully? It was wicked of me: it was -quite wicked." - -"There's not the least question about the enormity of the crime, -I'm afraid," he answered; "only I think that Mrs. Crawford may be -responsible for a good deal of it, if her confession to me is to be -depended upon. She told me how you were--but never mind, I am the -ill-treated one in the matter, and I forgive you all." - -"And we have actually been brought into the dock?" - -"For the past half-hour, my love; and I have been waiting for much -longer. I got the telegram you sent to me, by the last mail from -Madeira, so that I have been on the lookout for the _Cardwell Castle_ -for a week. Now don't be too hard on an old boy, Dolly, with all of -those questions I see on your lips. Here, I'll take them in the lump, -and think over them as I get through a glass of brandy-and-water with -Jack Crawford and the Sylph--by George, to think of your meeting with -the poor old hearty Sylph--ah, I forgot you never heard that we used to -call Mrs. Crawford the Sylph at our station before you were born. There, -now I have got all your questions, my darling--my own darling little -Dolly." - -She only gave him a little hug this time, and he hastened up to the -deck, where Mrs. Crawford and her husband were waiting for him. - -"Now, did I say anything more of her than was the truth, George?" cried -Mrs. Crawford, so soon as Colonel Gerald got on deck. - -But Colonel Gerald smiled at her abstractedly and pulled fiercely at the -ends of his moustache. Then seeing Mr. Harwood at the other side of -the skylight, he ran and shook hands with him warmly; and Harwood, -who fancied he understood something of the theory of the expression of -emotion in mankind, refrained from hinting to the colonel that they had -already had a chat together since the steamer had come into dock. - -Mrs. Crawford, however, was not particularly well pleased to find that -her old friend George Gerald had only answered her with that vague -smile, which implied nothing; she knew that he had been speaking for -half an hour before with Harwood, from whom he had heard the first -intelligence of his appointment to the Castaway group. When Colonel -Gerald, however, went the length of rushing up to Doctor Campion -and violently shaking hands with him also, though they had been in -conversation together before, the lady began to fear that the attack of -fever from which it was reported Daireen's father had been suffering had -left its traces upon him still. - -"Rather rum, by gad," said the major, when his attention was called -to his old comrade's behaviour. "Just like the way a boy would behave -visiting his grandmother, isn't it? Looks as if he were working off his -feelings, doesn't it? By gad, he's going back to Harwood!" - -"I thought he would," said Mrs. Crawford. "Harwood can tell him all -about his appointment. That's what George, like all the rest of them -nowadays, is anxious about. He forgets his child--he has no interest in -her, I see." - -"That's devilish bad, Kate, devilish bad! by Jingo! But upon my soul, -I was under the impression that his wildness just now was the effect of -having been below with the kid." - -"If he had the least concern about her, would he not come to me, when he -knows very well that I could tell him all about the voyage? But no, he -prefers to remain by the side of the special correspondent." - -"No, he doesn't; here he comes, and hang me if he isn't going to shake -hands with both of us!" cried the major, as Colonel Gerald, recognising -him, apparently for the first time, left Harwood's side and hastened -across the deck with extended hand. - -"George, dear old George," said Mrs. Crawford, reflecting upon the -advantages usually attributed to the conciliatory method of -treatment. "Isn't it like the old time come back again? Here we stand -together--Jack, Campion, yourself and myself, just as we used to be -in--ah, it cannot have been '58!--yes, it was, good gracious, '58! It -seems like a dream." - -"Exactly like a dream, by Jingo, my dear," said the major pensively, for -he was thinking what an auxiliary to the realistic effect of the scene a -glass of brandy-and-water, or some other Indian cooling drink, would be. -"Just like a vision, you know, George, isn't it? So if you'll come -to the smoking-room, we'll have that light breakfast we were talking -about." - -"He won't go, major," said the lady severely. - -"He wishes to have a talk with me about the dear child. Don't you, -George?" - -"And about your dear self, Kate," replied Colonel Gerald, in the -Irish way that brought back to the lady still more vividly all the old -memories of the happy station on the Himalayas. - -"Ah, how like George that, isn't it?" she whispered to her husband. - -"My dear girl, don't be a tool," was the parting request of the major as -he strolled off to where the doctor was, he knew, waiting for some sign -that the brandy and water were amalgamating. - -"I'm glad that we are alone, George," said Mrs. Crawford, taking Colonel -Gerald's arm. "We can talk together freely about the child--about -Daireen." - -"And what have we to say about her, Kate? Can you give me any hints -about her temper, eh? How she needs to be managed, and that sort of -thing? You used to be capital at that long ago." - -"And I flatter myself that I can still tell all about a girl after a -single glance; but, my dear George, I never indeed knew what a truly -perfect nature was until I came to understand Daireen. She is an angel, -George." - -"No," said the colonel gently; "not Daireen--she is not the angel; but -her face, when I saw it just now upon its pillow, sent back all my soul -in thought of one--one who is--who always was an angel--my good angel." - -"That was my first thought too," said Mrs. Crawford. "And her nature is -the same. Only poor Daireen errs on the side of good nature. She is a -child in her simplicity of thought about every one she meets. She wants -some one near her who will be able to guide her tastes in--in--well, -in different matters. By the way, you remember Austin Glaston, who was -chaplain for a while on the _Telemachus_, and who got made Bishop of the -Salamanders; well, that is his son, that tall handsome youngman--I must -present you. He is one of the most distinguished men I ever met." - -"Ah, indeed? Does he write for a newspaper?" - -"Oh, George, I am ashamed of you. No, Mr. Glaston is a--a--an artist and -a poet, and--well, he does nearly everything much better than any one -else, and if you take my advice you will give him an invitation to -dinner, and then you will find out all." - -Before Colonel Gerald could utter a word he was brought face to face -with Mr. Glaston, and felt his grasp responded to by a gentle pressure. - -"I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Glaston; your father and I were old -friends. If you are staying at Cape Town, I hope you will not neglect to -call upon my daughter and myself," said the colonel. - -"You are extremely kind," returned the young man: "I shall be -delighted." - -Thus Daireen on coming on deck found her father in conversation with -Mr. Glaston, and already acquainted with every member of Mrs. Crawford's -circle. - -"Mr. Glaston has just promised to pay you a visit on shore, my dear," -said the major's wife, as she came up. - -"How very kind," said Daireen. "But can he tell me where I live ashore, -for no one has thought fit to let me know anything about myself. I will -never forgive you, Mrs. Crawford, for ordering that I was not to be -awakened this morning. It was too cruel." - -"Only to be kind, dear; I knew what a state of nervousness you were in." - -"And now of course," continued the girl, "when I come on deck all the -news will have been told--even that secret about the Castaway Islands." - -"Heavens':" said the colonel, "what about the Castaway Islands? Have -they been submerged, or have they thrown off the British yoke already?" - -"I see you know all," she said mournfully, "and I had treasured up all -that Mr. Harwood said no one in the world but himself knew, to be the -first to tell you. And now, too, you know every one aboard except--ah, -I have my secret to tell at last. There he stands, and even you don't -remember him, papa. Come here, Standish, and let me present you. -This, papa, is Standish Macnamara, and he is coming out with us now to -wherever we are to live." - -"Good gracious, Daireen!" cried Mrs. Crawford. - -"What, Standish, Prince of Innishdermot!" said the colonel. "My dear -boy, I am delighted to welcome you to this strange place. I remember you -when your curls were a good deal longer, my boy." - -Poor Standish, who was no longer in his sailor's jacket, but in the best -attire his Dublin tailor could provide, blushed most painfully as every -one gazed at him--every one with the exception of Daireen, who was -gazing anxiously around the deck as though she expected to see some one -still. - -"This is certainly a secret," murmured Mrs. Crawford. - -"Now, Daireen, to the shore," said Colonel Gerald. "You need not say -good-bye to any one here. Mrs. Crawford will be out to dine with us -to-morrow. She will bring the major and Doctor Campion, and Mr. Harwood -says he will ride one of my horses till he gets his own. So there need -be no tears. My man will look after the luggage while I drive you out." - -"I must get my bag from my cabin," Daireen said, going slowly towards -the companion. In a few moments she reappeared with her dressing-bag, -and gave another searching glance around the deck. - -"Now," she said, "I am ready." - - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - - -````Something have you heard - -```Of Hamlet's transformation; so call it-- - -````... What it should be... - -```I cannot dream or - -`````... gather - -```So much as from occasion you may glean - -```Whether aught to us unknown afflicts him.= - -````At night we'll feast together: - -````Most welcome home! - -````Most fair return of greetings._Hamlet._= - - -|WHAT an extraordinary affair!' said Mrs. Crawford, turning from where -she had been watching the departure of the colonel and his daughter and -that tall handsome young friend of theirs whom they had called Standish -MacDermot. - -'I would not have believed it of Daireen. Standish MacDermot--what a -dreadful Irish name! But where can he have been aboard the ship? He -cannot have been one of those terrible fore-cabin passengers. Ah, I -would not have believed her capable of such disingenuousness. Who is -this young man, Jack?' - -'My dear girl, never mind the young man or the young woman just now. -We must look after the traps and get them through the Custom-house.' -replied the major. - -'Mr. Harwood, who is this young man with the terrible Irish name?' she -asked in desperation of the special correspondent. She felt indeed in an -extremity when she sought Harwood for an ally. - -'I never was so much astonished in all my life,' he whispered in answer. -'I never heard of him. She never breathed a word about him to me.' - -Mrs. Crawford did not think this at all improbable, seeing that Daireen -had never breathed a word about him to herself. - -'My dear Mr. Harwood, these Irish are too romantic for us. It is -impossible for us ever to understand them.' And she hastened away to -look after her luggage. It was not until she was quite alone that she -raised her hands, exclaiming devoutly, 'Thank goodness Mr. Glaston had -gone before this second piece of romance was disclosed! What on earth -would he have thought!' - -The reflection made the lady shudder. Mr. Glaston's thoughts, if he had -been present while Daireen was bringing forward this child of mystery, -Standish MacDermot, would, she knew, have been too terrible to be -contemplated. - -As for Mr. Harwood, though he professed to be affected by nothing that -occurred about him, still he felt himself uncomfortably surprised by the -sudden appearance of the young Irishman with whom Miss Gerald and her -father appeared to be on such familiar terms; and as he stood looking up -to that marvellous hill in whose shadow Cape Town lies, he came to the -conclusion that it would be as well for him to find out all that could -be known about this Standish MacDermot. He had promised Daireen's father -to make use of one of his horses so long as he would remain at the Cape, -and it appeared from all he could gather that the affairs in the colony -were becoming sufficiently complicated to compel his remaining here -instead of hastening out to make his report of the Castaway group. The -British nation were of course burning to hear all that could be told -about the new island colony, but Mr. Harwood knew very well that -the heading which would be given in the columns of the '_Dominant -Trumpeter_' to any information regarding the attitude of the defiant -Kafir chief would be in very much larger type than that of the most -flowery paragraph descriptive of the charms of the Castaway group; and -so he had almost made up his mind that it would be to the advantage of -the newspaper that he should stay at the Cape. Of course he felt that he -had at heart no further interests, and so long as it was not conflicting -with those interests he would ride Colonel Gerald's horse, and, perhaps, -walk with Colonel Gerald's daughter. - -But all the time that he was reflecting in this consistent manner the -colonel and his daughter and Standish were driving along the base of -Table Mountain, while on the other side the blue waters of the lovely -bay were sparkling between the low shores of pure white sand, and far -away the dim mountain ridges were seen. - -'Shall I ever come to know that mountain and all about it as well as -I know our own dear Slieve Docas?' cried the girl, looking around her. -'Will you, do you think, Standish?' - -'Nothing here can compare with our Irish land,' cried Standish. - -'You are right my boy,' said Daireen's father. 'I have knocked about a -good deal, and I have seen a good many places, and, after all, I have -come to the conclusion that our own Suangorm is worth all that I have -seen for beauty.' - -'We can all sympathise with each other here,' said the girl laughing. -'We will join hands and say that there is no place in the world like our -Ireland, and then, maybe, the strangers here will believe us.' - -'Yes,' said her father, 'we will think of ourselves in the midst of a -strange country as three representatives of the greatest nation in, the -world. Eh, Standish, that would please your father.' - -But Standish could not make any answer to this allusion to his father. -He was in fact just now wondering what Colonel Gerald would say when he -would hear that Standish had travelled six thousand miles for the sake -of obtaining his advice as to the prudence of entertaining the thought -of leaving home. Standish was beginning to fear that there was a flaw -somewhere in the consistency of the step he had taken, complimentary -though it undoubtedly was to the judgment of Colonel Gerald. He could -hardly define the inconsistency of which he was conscious, but as the -phaeton drove rapidly along the red road beside the high peak of the -mountain he became more deeply impressed with the fact that it existed -somewhere. - -Passing along great hedges of cactus and prickly-pear, and by the side -of some well-wooded grounds with acres of trim green vineyards, the -phaeton proceeded for a few miles. The scene was strange to Daireen and -Standish; only for the consciousness of that towering peak they were -grateful. Even though its slope was not swathed in heather, it still -resembled in its outline the great Slieve Docas, and this was enough to -make them feel while passing beneath it that it was a landmark breathing -of other days. Half way up the ascent they could see in a ravine a large -grove of the silver-leaf fir, and the sun-glints among the exquisite -white foliage were very lovely. Further down the mighty aloes threw -forth their thick green branches in graceful divergence, and then along -the road were numerous bullock waggons with Malay drivers--eighteen -or twenty animals running in a team. Nothing could have added to the -strangeness of the scene to the girl and her companion, and yet the -shadow of that great hill made the land seem no longer weary. - -At last, just at the foot of the hill, Colonel Gerald turned his horses -to where there was a broad rough avenue made through a grove of pines, -and after following its curves for some distance, a broad cleared space -was reached, beyond which stood a number of magnificent Australian -oaks and fruit trees surrounding a long low Dutch-built house with an -overhanging roof and the usual stop--the raised stone border--in front. - -'This is our house, my darling,' said the girl's father as he pulled up -at the door. 'I had only a week to get it in order for you, but I hope -you will like it.' - -'Like it?' she cried; 'it is lovelier than any we had in India, and then -the hill--the hill--oh, papa, this is home indeed.' - -'And for me, my own little Dolly, don't you think it is home too?' he -said when he had his arms about her in the hall. 'With this face in my -hands at last I feel all the joy of home that has been denied to me for -years. How often have I seen your face, Dolly, as I sat with my coffee -in the evening in my lonely bungalow under the palms? The sight of it -used to cheer me night after night, darling,' but now that I have it -here--here----' - -'Keep it there,' she cried. 'Oh, papa, papa, why should we be miserable -apart ever again? I will stay with you now wherever you go for ever.' - -Colonel Gerald looked at her for a minute, he kissed her once again upon -the face, and then burst into a laugh. - -'And this is the only result of a voyage made under the protection of -Mrs. Crawford!' he said. 'My dear, you must have used some charm to have -resisted her power; or has she lost her ancient cunning? Why, after a -voyage with Mrs. Crawford I have seen the most devoted daughters desert -their parents. When I heard that you were coming out with her I feared -you would allow yourself to be schooled by her into a sense of your -duty, but it seems you have been stubborn.' - -'She was everything that is kind to me, and I don't know what I should -have done without her,' said the girl. 'Only, I'll never forgive her -for not having awakened me to meet you this morning. But last night -I suppose she thought I was too nervous. I was afraid, you know, -lest--lest--but never mind, here we are together at home--for there is -the hill--yes, at home.' - -But when Daireen found herself in the room to which she had been shown -by the neat little handmaiden provided by Colonel Gerald, and had seated -herself in sight of a bright green cactus that occupied the centre of -the garden outside, she had much to think about. She just at this moment -realised that all her pleasant life aboard the steamer was at an end. -More than a touch of sadness was in her reflection, for she had come to -think of the good steamer as something more than a mere machine; it -had been a home to her for twenty-five days, and it had contained her -happiness and sorrow during that time as a home would have done. Then -how could she have parted from it an hour before with so little concern? -she asked herself. How could she have left it without shaking hands -with--with all those who had been by her side for many days on the good -old ship? Some she had said goodbye to, others she would see again on -the following day, but still there were some whom she had left the ship -without seeing--some who had been associated with her happiness during -part of the voyage, at any rate, and she might never see them again. The -reflection made her very sad, nor did the feeling pass off during the -rest of the day spent by her father's side. - -The day was very warm, and, as Daireens father was still weak, he did -not stray away from the house beyond the avenue of shady oaks leading -down to a little stream that moved sluggishly on its way a couple of -hundred yards from the garden. They had, of course, plenty to talk -about; for Colonel Gerald was somewhat anxious to hear how his friend -Standish had come out. He had expressed the happiness he felt on meeting -with the young man as soon as his daughter had said that he would go -out to wherever they were to live, but he thought it would increase his -satisfaction if his daughter would tell him how it came to pass that -this young man was unacquainted with any of the passengers. - -Daireen now gave him the entire history of Standish's quarrel with his -father, and declared that it was solely to obtain the advice of Colonel -Gerald he had made the voyage from Ireland. - -The girl's father laughed when he heard of this characteristic action -on the part of the young man; but he declared that it proved he meant -to work for himself in the world, and not be content to live upon -the traditions of The Mac-Dermots; and then he promised the girl that -something should be done for the son of the hereditary prince. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - - -```The nights are wholesome; - -```No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, - -```So hallowed and so gracious is the time.= - -```What, has this thing appeared again to-night?--Hamlet.= - - -|WHEN evening came Daireen and her father sat out upon their chairs on -the stop in front of the house. The sun had for long been hidden by the -great peak, though to the rest of the world not under its shadow he had -only just sunk. The twilight was very different from the last she had -seen on land, when the mighty Slieve Docas had appeared in his purple -robe. Here the twilight was brief and darkly blue as it overhung the -arched aloes and those large palm plants whose broad leaves waved not -in the least breeze. Far in the mellow distance a large star was -glittering, and the only sound in the air was the shrill whistle of one -of the Cape field crickets. - -Then began the struggle between moonlight and darkness. The leaves of -the boughs that were clasped above the little river began to be softly -silvered as the influence of the rising light made itself apparent, and -then the highest ridges of the hill gave back a flash as the beams shot -through the air. - -These changes were felt by the girl sitting silently beside her -father--the changes of the twilight and of the moonlight, before the -full round shield of the orb appeared above the trees, and the white -beams fell around the broad floating leaves beneath her feet. - -'Are you tired, Dolly?' asked her father. - -'Not in the least, papa; it seems months since I was at sea.' - -'Then you will ride with me for my usual hour? I find it suits me better -to take an hour's exercise in the cool of the evening.' - -'Nothing could be lovelier on such an evening,' she cried. 'It will -complete our day's happiness.' - -She hastened to put on her habit while her father went round to the -stables to give directions to the groom regarding the saddling of a -certain little Arab which had been bought within the week. In a short -time Standish was left to gaze in admiration at the fine seat of the old -officer in his saddle, and in rapture at the delicately shaped figure of -the girl, as they trotted down the avenue between those strange trees. - -They disappeared among the great leaves; and when the sound of their -horses' hoofs had died away, Standish, sitting there upon the raised -ground in front of the house, had his own hour of thought. He felt that -he had hitherto not accomplished much in his career of labour. He had -had an idea that there were a good many of the elements of heroism in -joining as he did the vessel in which the girl was going abroad. Visions -of wrecks, of fires, of fallings overboard, nay of pirates even, had -floated before his mind, with himself as the only one near to save the -girl from each threatening calamity. He had heard of such things taking -place daily, and he was prepared to risk himself for her sake, and to -account himself happy if the chance of protecting her should occur. - -But so soon as he had been a few days at sea, and had found that such -a thing as danger was not even hinted at any more than it would be in -a drawing-room on shore--when in fact he saw how like a drawing-room on -shore was the quarter-deck of the steamer, he began to be disappointed. -Daireen was surrounded by friends who would, if there might chance to be -the least appearance of danger, resent his undertaking to save the girl -whom he loved with every thought of his soul. He would not, in fact, be -permitted to play the part of the hero that his imagination had marked -out for himself. - -Yes, he felt that the heroic elements in his position aboard the steamer -had somehow dwindled down to a minimum; and now here he had been so weak -as to allow himself to be induced to come out to live, even though only -for a short time, at this house. He felt that his acceptance of the -sisterly friendship of the girl was making it daily more impossible for -him to kneel at her feet, as he meant one day to do, and beg of her to -accept of some heroic work done on her behalf. - -'She is worthy of all that a man could do with all his soul,' Standish -cried as he stood there in the moonlight. But what can I do for her? -What can I do for her? Oh, I am the most miserable wretch in the whole -world!' - -This was not a very satisfactory conclusion for him to come to; but on -the whole it did not cause him much despondency. In his Irish nature -there were almost unlimited resources of hope, and it would have -required a large number of reverses of fortune to cast him down utterly. - -While he was trying in vain to make himself feel as miserable as he knew -his situation demanded him to be, Daireen and her father were riding -along the road that leads from Cape Town to the districts of Wynberg and -Constantia. They went along through the moonlight beneath the splendid -avenue of Australian oaks at the old Dutch district of Bondebosch, and -then they turned aside into a narrow lane of cactus and prickly pear -which brought them to that great sandy plain densely overgrown with -blossoming heath and gorse called The Mats, along which they galloped -for some miles. Turning their horses into the road once more, they then -walked them back towards their house at Mowbray. - -Daireen felt that she had never before so enjoyed a ride. All was so -strange. That hill whose peak was once again towering above them; that -long dark avenue with the myriads of fire-flies sparkling amongst the -branches; the moonlight that was flooding the world outside; and then -her companion, her father, whose face she had been dreaming over daily -and nightly. She had never before so enjoyed a ride. - -They had gone some distance through the oak avenue when they turned -their horses aside at the entrance to one of the large vineyards that -are planted in such neat lines up the sloping ground. - -'Well, Dolly, are you satisfied at last?' said Colonel Gerald, looking -into the girl's face that the moonlight was glorifying, though here and -there the shadow of a leaf fell upon her. - -'Satisfied! Oh, it is all like a dream,' she said. 'A strange dream of a -strange place. When I think that a month ago I was so different, I -feel inclined to--to--ask you to kiss me again, to make sure I am not -dreaming.' - -'If you are under the impression that you are a sleeping beauty, dear, -and that you can only be roused by that means, I have no objection.' - -'Now I am sure it is all reality,' she said with a little laugh. 'Oh, -papa, I am so happy. Could anything disturb our happiness?' - -Suddenly upon the dark avenue behind them there came the faint sound -of a horses hoof, and then of a song sung carelessly through the -darkness--one she had heard before. - -The singer was evidently approaching on horseback, for the last notes -were uttered just opposite where the girl and her father were standing -their horses behind the trees at the entrance to the vineyard. The -singer too seemed to have reined in at this point, though of course he -could not see either of the others, the branches were so close. Daireen -was mute while that air was being sung, and in another instant she -became aware of a horse being pushed between the trees a few yards from -her. There was only a small space to pass, so she and her father backed -their horses round and the motion made the stranger start, for he had -not perceived them before. - -'I beg you will not move on my account. I did not know there was anyone -here, or I should not have----' - -The light fell upon the girl's face, and her father saw the stranger -give another little start. - -'You need not make an apology to us, Mr. Markham,' said Daireen. 'We had -hidden ourselves, I know. Papa, this is Mr. Oswin Markham. How odd it is -that we should meet here upon the first evening of landing! The Cape is -a good deal larger than the quarterdeck of the "Cardwell Castle."' - -'You were a passenger, no doubt, aboard the steamer my daughter came out -in, Mr. Markham?' said Colonel Gerald. - -Mr. Markham laughed. - -'Upon my word I hardly know that I am entitled to call myself a -passenger,' he said. 'Can you define my position, Miss Gerald? it was -something very uncertain. I am a castaway--a waif that was picked up in -a half-drowned condition from a broken mast in the Atlantic, and -sheltered aboard the hospitable vessel.' - -'It is very rarely that a steamer is so fortunate as to save a life -in that way,' said Colonel Gerald. 'Sailing vessels have a much better -chance.' - -'To me it seems almost a miracle--a long chain of coincidences was -necessary for my rescue, and yet every link was perfect to the end.' - -'It is upon threads our lives are constantly hanging,' said the colonel, -backing his horse upon the avenue. 'Do you remain long in the colony, -Mr. Markham?' he asked when they were standing in a group at a place -where the moonlight broke through the branches. - -'I think I shall have to remain for some weeks,' he answered. 'Campion -tells me I must not think of going to England until the violence of the -winter there is past.' - -'Then we shall doubtless have the pleasure of meeting you frequently. -We have a cottage at Mowbray, where we would be delighted to see you. By -the way, Mrs. Crawford and a few of my other old friends are coming -out to dine with us to-morrow, my daughter and myself would be greatly -pleased if you could join us.' - -'You are exceedingly kind,' said Mr. Markham. 'I need scarcely say how -happy I will be.' - -'Our little circle on board the good old ship is not yet to be -dispersed, you see, Mr. Markham,' said Daireen with a laugh. 'For once -again, at any rate, we will be all together.' - -'For once again,' he repeated as he raised his hat, the girl's horse -and her father's having turned. 'For once again, till when goodbye, Miss -Gerald.' - -'Goodbye, Mr. Markham,' said the colonel. 'By the way, we dine early I -should have told you--half past six.' - -Markham watched them ride along the avenue and reappear in the moonlight -space beyond. Then he dropped the bridle on his horse's neck and -listlessly let the animal nibble at the leaves on the side of the -road for a long time. At last he seemed to start into consciousness of -everything. He gathered up the bridle and brought the horse back to the -avenue. - -'It is Fate or Providence or God this time,' he muttered as if for his -own satisfaction. 'I have had no part in the matter; I have not so much -as raised my hand for this, and yet it has come.' - -He walked his horse back to Cape Town in the moonlight. - -'I don't think you mentioned this Mr. Markham's name to me, Dolly,' said -Colonel Gerald as they returned to Mowbray. - -'I don't think I did, papa; but you see he had gone ashore when I came -on deck to you this morning, and I did not suppose we should ever meet -again.' - -'I hope you do not object to my asking him to dinner, dear?' - -'I object, papa? Oh, no, no; I never felt so glad at anything. He does -not talk affectedly like Mr. Glaston, nor cleverly like Mr. Harwood, so -I prefer him to either of them. And then, think of his being for a week -tossing about the Atlantic upon that wreck.' - -'All very good reasons for asking him to dine to-morrow,' said her -father. 'Now suppose we try a trot.' - -'I would rather walk if it is the same to you, papa,' she said. 'I don't -feel equal to another trot now.' - -'Why, surely, you have not allowed yourself to become tired, Daireen? -Yes, my dear, you look it. I should have remembered that you are just -off the sea. We will go gently home, and you will get a good sleep.' - -They did go very gently, and silently too, and in a short time Daireen -was lying on her bed, thinking not of the strange moonlight wonders of -her ride, but of that five minutes spent upon the avenue of Australian -oaks down which had echoed that song. - -It seemed that poor Mrs. Crawford was destined to have enigmas of the -most various sorts thrust upon her for her solution; at any rate she -regarded the presence of Mr. Oswin Markham at Colonel Crawford's little -dinner the next, evening as a question as puzzling as the mysterious -appearance of the young man called Standish MacDermot. She, however, -chatted with Mr. Markham as usual, and learned that he also was going to -a certain garden party which was to be held at Government House in a few -days. - -'And you will come too, Daireen?' she said. 'You must come, for Mr. -Glaston has been so good as to promise to exhibit in one of the rooms a -few of his pictures he spoke to us about. How kind of him, isn't it, to -try and educate the taste of the colony?' The bishop has not yet arrived -at the Cape, but Mr. Glaston says he will wait for him for a fortnight.' - -'For a fortnight? Such filial devotion will no doubt bring its own -reward,' said Mr. Harwood. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - - -`````Being remiss, - -```Most generous and free from all contriving. - -```A heart unfortified, - -```An understanding simple and unschooled.= - -```A violet in the youth of primy nature.= - -````O'tis most sweet - -```When in one line two crafts directly meet.= - -````Soft,--let me see:-- - -```We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings.--_Hamlet._ - - -|THE band of the gallant Bayonetteers was making the calm air of -Government House gardens melodious with the strains of an entrancing -German valse not more than a year old, which had convulsed society at -Cape Town when introduced a few weeks previously; for society at Cape -Town, like society everywhere else, professes to understand everything -artistic, even to the delicacies of German dance music. The evening was -soft and sunny, while the effect of a very warm day drawing near its -close was to be seen everywhere around. The broad leaves of the feathery -plants were hanging dry and languid across the walks, and the grass was -becoming tawny as that on the Lion's Head--that strangely curved hill -beside Table Mountain. The giant aloes and plantains were, however, -defiant of the heat and spread their leaves out mightily as ever. - -The gardens are always charming in the southern spring, but never so -charming as when their avenues are crowded with coolly dressed girls of -moderate degrees of prettiness whose voices are dancing to the melody of -a German valse not more than a year old. How charming it is to discuss -all the absorbing colonial questions--such as how the beautiful Van -der Veldt is looking this evening; and if Miss Van Schmidt, whose papa -belongs to the Legislative Council and is consequently a voice in the -British Empire, has really carried out his threat of writing home to the -War Office to demand the dismissal of that young Mr. Westbury from the -corps of Royal Engineers on account of his conduct towards Miss Van -Schmidt; or perhaps a question of art, such as how the general's -daughters contrive to have Paris bonnets several days previous to the -arrival of the mail with the patterns; or a question of diplomacy, such -as whether His Excellency's private secretary will see his way to making -that proposal to the second eldest daughter of one of the Supreme Court -judges. There is no colony in the world so devoted to discussions of -this nature as the Cape, and in no part of the colony may a discussion -be carried out with more spirit than in the gardens around Government -House. - -But upon the afternoon of this garden party there was an unusual display -of colonial beauty and colonial young men--the two are never found in -conjunction--and English delicacy and Dutch _gaucherie_, for the spring -had been unusually damp, and this was the first garden party day that -was declared perfect. There were, of course, numbers of officers, the -military with their wives--such as had wives, and the naval with other -people's wives, each branch of the service grumbling at the other's luck -in this respect. And then there were sundry civil servants of exalted -rank--commissioners of newly founded districts, their wives and -daughters, and a brace of good colonial bishops also, with their -partners in their mission labours, none of whom objected to Waldteufel -or Gung'l. - -On the large lawn in front of the balcony at the Residence there was a -good deal of tennis being played, and upon the tables laid out on the -balcony there were a good many transactions in the way of brandy and -soda carried on by special commissioners and field officers, whose -prerogative it was to discuss the attitude of the belligerent Kafir -chief who, it was supposed, intended to give as much trouble as he could -without inconvenience to himself. And then from shady places all around -the avenues came the sounds of girlish laughter and the glimmer of -muslin. Behind this scene the great flat-faced, flat-roofed mountain -stood dark and bold, and through it all the band of the Bayonetteers -brayed out that inspiriting valse. - -Major Crawford was, in consequence of the importance of his mission to -the colony, pointed out to the semi-Dutch legislators, each of whom -had much to tell him on the burning boot question; and Mr. Harwood -was naturally enough, regarded with interest, for the sounds of the -'Dominant Trumpeter' go forth into all the ends of the earth. Mr. -Glaston, too, as son of the Metropolitan of the Salamander Archipelago, -was entitled to every token of respectful admiration, even if he had not -in the fulness of his heart allowed a few of his pictures to be hung -in one of the reception rooms. But perhaps Daireen Gerald had more eyes -fixed upon her than anyone in the gardens. - -Everyone knew that she was the daughter of Colonel Gerald who had -just been gazetted Governor-General of the new colony of the Castaway -Islands, but why she had come out to the Cape no one seemed to know -exactly. Many romances were related to account for her appearance, the -Cape Town people possessing almost unlimited resources in the way of -romance making; but as no pains were taken to bring about a coincidence -of stories, it was impossible to say who was in the right. - -She was dressed so perfectly according to Mr. Glaston's theories of -harmony that he could not refrain from congratulating her--or rather -commending her--upon her good taste, though it struck Daireen that there -was not much good taste in his commendation. He remained by her side for -some time lamenting the degradation of the colony in being shut out from -Art--the only world worth living in, as he said; then Daireen found -herself with some other people to whom she had been presented, and who -were anxious to present her to some relations. - -The girl's dress was looked at by most of the colonial young ladies, -and her figure was gazed at by all of the men, until it was generally -understood that to have made the acquaintance of Miss Gerald was a -happiness gained. - -'My dear George,' said Mrs. Crawford to Colonel Gerald when she -had contrived to draw him to her side at a secluded part of the -gardens,--'My dear George, she is far more of a success than even -I myself anticipated. Why, the darling child is the centre of all -attraction.' - -'Poor little Dolly! that is not a very dizzy point to reach at the Cape, -is it, Kate?' - -'Now don't be provoking, George. We all know well enough, of course, -that it is here the same as at any place else: the latest arrival has -the charm of novelty. But it is not so in Daireen's case. I can see at -once--and I am sure you will give me credit for some power of perception -in these things--that she has created a genuine impression. George, -you may depend on her receiving particular attention on all sides.' The -lady's voice lowered confidentially until her last sentence had in it -something of the tone of a revelation. - -'That will make the time pass in a rather lively way for Dolly,' said -George, pulling his long iron-grey moustache as he smiled thoughtfully, -looking into Mrs. Crawford's face. - -'Now, George, you must fully recognise the great responsibility resting -with you--I certainly feel how much devolves upon myself, being as I am, -her father's oldest friend in the colony, and having had the dear child -in my care during the voyage.' - -'Nothing could be stronger than your claims.' - -'Then is it not natural that I should feel anxious about her, George? -This is not India, you must remember.' - -'No, no,' said the colonel thoughtfully; 'it's not India.' He was trying -to grasp the exact thread of reasoning his old friend was using in her -argument. He could not at once see why the fact of Cape Town not being -situated in the Empire of Hindustan should cause one's responsible -duties to increase in severity. - -'You know what I mean, George. In India marriage is marriage, and a -certain good, no matter who is concerned in it. It is one's duty there -to get a girl married, and there is no blame to be attached to one if -everything doesn't turn out exactly as one could have wished.' - -'Ah, yes, exactly,' said the colonel, beginning to comprehend. 'But I -think you have not much to reproach yourself with, Kate; almost every -mail brought you out an instalment of the youth and beauty of home, and -I don't think that one ever missed fire--failed to go off, you know.' - -'Well, yes, I may say I was fortunate, George,' she replied, with a -smile of reflective satisfaction. 'But this is not India, George; we -must be very careful. I observed Daireen carefully on the voyage, and I -can safely say that the dear child has yet formed no attachment.' - -'Formed an attachment? You mean--oh Kate, the idea is too absurd,' said -Colonel Gerald. 'Why, she is a child--a baby.' - -'Of course all fathers think such things about their girls,' said the -lady with a pitying smile. 'They understand their boys well enough, and -take good care to make them begin to work not a day too late, but their -girls are all babies. Why, George, Daireen must be nearly twenty.' - -Colonel Gerald was thoughtful for some moments. 'So she is,' he said; -'but she is still quite a baby.' - -'Even so,' said the lady, 'a baby's tastes should be turned in the right -direction. By the way, I have been asked frequently who is this young -Mr. MacDermot who came out to you in such a peculiar fashion. People are -beginning to talk curiously about him.' - -'As people at the Cape do about everyone,' said the colonel. 'Poor -Standish might at least have escaped criticism.' - -'I scarcely think so, George, considering how he came out.' - -'Well, it was rather what people who do not understand us call an Irish -idea. Poor boy!' - -'Who is he, George?' 'The son of one of our oldest friends. The -friendship has existed between his family and mine for some hundreds of -years.' - -'Why did he come out to the Cape in that way?' - -'My dear Kate, how can I tell you everything?' said the puzzled colonel. -'You would not understand if I were to try and explain to you how -this Standish MacDermot's father is a genuine king, whose civil list -unfortunately does not provide for the travelling expenses of the -members of his family, so that the young man thought it well to set out -as he did.' 'I hope you are not imposing on me, George. Well, I must -be satisfied, I suppose. By the way, you have not yet been to the room -where Mr. Glaston's pictures are hung; we must not neglect to see them. -Mr. Glaston told me just now he thought Daireen's taste perfect.' - -'That was very kind of Mr. Glaston.' - -'If you knew him as I do, George--in fact as he is known in the most -exclusive drawing-rooms in London--you would understand how much his -commendation is worth,' said Mrs. Crawford. - -'I have no doubt of it. He must come out to us some evening to dinner. -For his father's sake I owe him some attention, if not for his remark to -you just now.' - -'I hope you may not forget to ask him,' said Mrs. Crawford. 'He is -a most remarkable young man. Of course he is envied by the less -accomplished, and you may hear contradictory reports about him. But, -believe me, he is looked upon in London as the leader of the most -fashionable--that is--the most--not most learned--no, the most artistic -set in town. Very exclusive they are, but they have done ever so much -good--designing dados, you know, and writing up the new pomegranate -cottage wall-paper.' - -'I am afraid that Mr. Glaston will find my Hutch cottage deficient in -these elements of decoration,' remarked the colonel. - -'I wanted to talk to you about him for a long time,' said Mrs. Crawford. -'Not knowing how you might regard the subject, I did not think it -well to give him too much encouragement on the voyage, George, so that -perhaps he may have thought me inclined to repel him, Daireen being in -my care; but I am sure that all may yet be well. Hush! who is it that -is laughing so loud? they are coming this way. Ah, Mr. Markham and -that little Lottie Vincent. Good gracious, how long that girl is in the -field, and how well she wears her age! Doesn't she look quite juvenile?' - -Colonel Gerald could not venture an answer before the young lady, who -was the eldest daughter of the deputy surgeon-general, tripped -up to Mrs. Crawford, and cried, clasping her four-button -strawberry-ice-coloured gloves over the elder lady's plump arm, -'Dear good Mrs. Crawford, I have come to you in despair to beg your -assistance. Promise me that you will do all you can to help me.' 'If -your case is so bad, Lottie, I suppose I must. But what am I to do?' - -'You are to make Mr. Markham promise that he will take part in our -theatricals next month. He can act--I know he can act like Irving or -Salvini or Terry or Mr. Bancroft or some of the others, and yet he will -not promise to take any part. Could anything be more cruel?' - -'Nothing, unless I were to take some part,' said Mr. Markham, laughing. - -'Hush, sir,' cried the young lady, stamping her Pinet shoe upon -the ground, and taking care in the action to show what a remarkably -well-formed foot she possessed. - -'It is cruel of you to refuse a request so offered, Mr. Markham,' said -Mrs. Crawford. 'Pray allow yourself to be made amenable to reason, and -make Miss Vincent happy for one evening.' - -'Since you put it as a matter of reason, Mrs. Crawford, there is, I -fear, no escape for me,' said Mr. Markham. - -'Didn't I talk to you about reason, sir?' cried the young lady in very -pretty mock anger. - -'You talked _about_ it,' said Markham, 'just as we walked about that -centre bed of cactus, we didn't once touch upon it, you know. You talk -very well about a subject, Miss Vincent.' - -'Was there ever such impertinence? Mrs. Crawford, isn't it dreadful? But -we have secured him for our cast, and that is enough. You will take a -dozen tickets of course, Colonel Gerald?' - -'I can confidently say the object is most worthy,' said Markham. - -'And he doesn't know what it is yet,' said Lottie. - -'That's why I can confidently recommend it.' - -'Now do give me five minutes with Colonel Gerald, like a good dear,' -cried the young lady to Mrs. Crawford! 'I must persuade him.' - -'We are going to see Mr. Glaston's pictures,' replied Mrs. Crawford. - -'How delightful! That is what I have been so anxious to do all the -afternoon: one feels so delightfully artistic, you know, talking about -pictures; and people think one knows all about them. Do let us go with -you, Mrs. Crawford. I can talk to Colonel Gerald while you go on with -Mr. Markham.' - -'You are a sad little puss,' said Mrs. Crawford, shaking her finger at -the artless and ingenuous maiden; and as she walked on with Mr. Markham -she could not help remembering how this little puss had caused herself -to be pretty hardly spoken about some ten years before at the Arradambad -station in the Himalayahs. - -How well she was wearing her age to be sure, Mrs. Crawford thought. -It is not many young ladies who, after ten years' campaigning, can -be called sad little pusses; but Miss Vincent still looked quite -juvenile--in fact, _plus Arabe qu'en Arabie_--more juvenile than a -juvenile. Everyone knew her and talked of her in various degrees of -familiarity; it was generally understood that an acquaintanceship of -twenty-four hours' duration was sufficient to entitle any field officer -to call her by the abbreviated form of her first name, while a week was -the space allowed to subalterns. - - -END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. - - - - -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 51938-8.txt or 51938-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/3/51938/ - -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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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 - Complete - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51938] -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> - Complete - </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> - - - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> - </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> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I. - </h2> - <p class="indent30"> - A king - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Upon whose property... - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - A damn'd defeat was made. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - A king - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Of shreds and patches. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - The very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in this box; and must - the inheritor himself have no more? <i>Hamlet.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>Y son,” said The - Macnamara with an air of grandeur, “my son, you've forgotten what's due”—he - pronounced it “jew”—“to yourself, what's due to your father, what's - due to your forefathers that bled,” and The Macnamara waved his hand - gracefully; then, taking advantage of its proximity to the edge of the - table, he made a powerful but ineffectual attempt to pull himself to his - feet. Finding himself baffled by the peculiar formation of his chair, and - not having a reserve of breath to draw upon for another exertion, he - concealed his defeat under a pretence of feeling indifferent on the matter - of rising, and continued fingering the table-edge as if endeavouring to - read the initials which had been carved pretty deeply upon the oak by a - humorous guest just where his hand rested. “Yes, my son, you've forgotten - the blood of your ancient sires. You forget, my son, that you're the - offspring of the Macnamaras and the O'Dermots, kings of Munster in the - days when there were kings, and when the Geralds were walking about in - blue paint in the woods of the adjacent barbarous island of Britain”—The - Macnamara said “barbarious.” - </p> - <p> - “The Geralds have been at Suanmara for four hundred years,” said Standish - quickly, and in the tone of one resenting an aspersion. - </p> - <p> - “Four hundred years!” cried The Macnamara scornfully. “Four hundred years! - What's four hundred years in the existence of a family?” He felt that this - was the exact instant for him to rise grandly to his feet, so once more he - made the essay, but without a satisfactory result. As a matter of fact, it - is almost impossible to release oneself from the embrace of a heavy oak - chair when the seat has been formed of light cane, and this cane has - become tattered. - </p> - <p> - “I don't care about the kings of Munster—no, not a bit,” said - Standish, taking a mean advantage of the involuntary captivity of his - father to insult him. - </p> - <p> - “I'm dead sick hearing about them. They never did anything for me.” - </p> - <p> - The Macnamara threw back his head, clasped his hands over his bosom, and - gazed up to the cobwebs of the oak ceiling. “My sires—shades of the - Macnamaras and the O'Dermots, visit not the iniquity of the children upon - the fathers,” he exclaimed. And then there came a solemn pause which the - hereditary monarch felt should impress his son deeply; but the son was not - deceived into fancying that his father was overcome with emotion; he knew - very well that his father was only thinking how with dignity he could - extricate himself from his awkward chair, and so he was not deeply - affected. “My boy, my boy,” the father murmured in a weak voice, after his - apostrophe to the shades of the ceiling, “what do you mean to do? Keep - nothing secret from me, Standish; I'll stand by you to the last.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't mean to do anything. There is nothing to be done—at least—yet.” - </p> - <p> - “What's that you say? Nothing to be done? You don't mean to say you've - been thrifling with the young-woman's affection? Never shall a son of - mine, and the offspring of The Macnamaras and the——” - </p> - <p> - “How can you put such a question to me?” said the young man indignantly. - “I throw back the insinuation in your teeth, though you are my father. I - would scorn to trifle with the feelings of any lady, not to speak of Miss - Gerald, who is purer than the lily that blooms——” - </p> - <p> - “In the valley of Shanganagh—that's what you said in the poem, my - boy; and it's true, I'm sure.” - </p> - <p> - “But because you find a scrap of poetry in my writing you fancy that I - forget my—my duty—my——” - </p> - <p> - “Mighty sires, Standish; say the word at once, man. Well, maybe I was too - hasty, my boy; and if you tell me that you don't love her now, I'll - forgive all.” - </p> - <p> - “Never,” cried the young man, with the vehemence of a mediaeval burning - martyr. “I swear that I love her, and that it would be impossible for me - ever to think of any one else.” - </p> - <p> - “This is cruel—cruel!” murmured The Macnamara, still thinking how he - could extricate himself from his uneasy seat. “It is cruel for a father, - but it must be borne—it must be borne. If our ancient house is to - degenerate to a Saxon's level, I'm not to blame. Standish, my boy, I - forgive you. Take your father's hand.” - </p> - <p> - He stretched out his hand, and the young man took it. The grasp of The - Macnamara was fervent—it did not relax until he had accomplished the - end he had in view, and had pulled himself to his feet. Standish was about - to leave the room, when his father, turning his eyes away from the - tattered cane-work of the chair, that now closely resembled the star-trap - in a pantomime, cried: - </p> - <p> - “Don't go yet, sir. This isn't to end here. Didn't you tell me that your - affection was set upon this daughter of the Geralds?” - </p> - <p> - “What is the use of continuing such questions?” cried the young man - impatiently. The reiteration by his father of this theme—the most - sacred to Standish's ears—was exasperating. - </p> - <p> - “No son of mine will be let sneak out of an affair like this,” said the - hereditary monarch. “We may be poor, sir, poor as a bogtrotter's dog——” - </p> - <p> - “And we are,” interposed Standish bitterly. - </p> - <p> - “But we have still the memories of the grand old times to live upon, and - the name of Macnamara was never joined with anything but honour. You love - that daughter of the Geralds—you've confessed it; and though the - family she belongs to is one of these mushroom growths that's springing up - around us in three or four hundred years—ay, in spite of the upstart - family she belongs to, I'll give my consent to your happiness. We mustn't - be proud in these days, my son, though the blood of kings—eh, where - do ye mean to be going before I've done?” - </p> - <p> - “I thought you had finished.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you? well, you're mistaken. You don't stir from here until you've - promised me to make all the amends in your power to this daughter of the - Geralds.” - </p> - <p> - “Amends? I don't understand you.” - </p> - <p> - “Don't you tell me you love her?” - </p> - <p> - The refrain which was so delightful to the young man's ears when he - uttered it alone by night under the pure stars, sounded terrible when - reiterated by his father. But what could he do—his father was now - upon his feet? - </p> - <p> - “What is the use of profaning her name in this fashion?” cried Standish. - “If I said I loved her, it was only when you accused me of it and - threatened to turn me out of the house.” - </p> - <p> - “And out of the house you'll go if you don't give me a straightforward - answer.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't care,” cried Standish doggedly. “What is there here that should - make me afraid of your threat? I want to be turned out. I'm sick of this - place.” - </p> - <p> - “Heavens! what has come over the boy that he has taken to speaking like - this? Are ye demented, my son?” - </p> - <p> - “No such thing,” said Standish. “Only I have been thinking for the past - few days over my position here, and I have come to the conclusion that I - couldn't be worse off.” - </p> - <p> - “You've been thinking, have you?” asked The Macnamara contemptuously. “You - depart so far from the traditions of your family? Well, well,” he - continued in an altered tone, after a pause, “maybe I've been a bad father - to you, Standish, maybe I've neglected my duty; maybe——” here - The Macnamara felt for his pocket-handkerchief, and having found it, he - waved it spasmodically, and was about to throw himself into his chair when - he recollected its defects and refrained, even though he was well aware - that he was thereby sacrificing much of the dramatic effect up to which he - had been working. - </p> - <p> - “No, father; I don't want to say that you have been anything but good to - me, only——” - </p> - <p> - “But I say it, my son,” said The Macnamara, mopping his brows earnestly - with his handkerchief. “I've been a selfish old man, haven't I, now?” - </p> - <p> - “No, no, anything but that. You have only been too good. You have given me - all I ever wanted—except——” - </p> - <p> - “Except what? Ah, I know what you mean—except money. Ah, your - reproach is bitter—bitter; but I deserve it all, I do.” - </p> - <p> - “No, father: I did not say that at all.” - </p> - <p> - “But I'll show you, my boy, that your father can be generous once of a - time. You love her, don't you, Standish?” - </p> - <p> - His father had laid his hand upon his shoulder now, and spoke the words in - a sentimental whisper, so that they did not sound so profane as before. - </p> - <p> - “I worship the ground she treads on,” his son answered, tremulous with - eagerness, a girlish blush suffusing his cheeks and invading the curls - upon his forehead, as he turned his head away. - </p> - <p> - “Then I'll show you that I can be generous. You shall have her, Standish - Macnamara; I'll give her to you, though she is one of the new families. - Put on your hat, my boy, and come out with me.” - </p> - <p> - “Are you going out?” said Standish. - </p> - <p> - “I am, so order round the car, if the spring is mended. It should be, for - I gave Eugene the cord for it yesterday.” - </p> - <p> - Standish made a slight pause at the door as if about to put another - question to his father; after a moment of thoughtfulness, however, he - passed out in silence. - </p> - <p> - When the door had closed—or, at least, moved upon its hinges, for - the shifting some years previously of a portion of the framework made its - closing an impossibility—The Macnamara put his hands deep into his - pockets, jingling the copper coins and the iron keys that each receptacle - contained. It is wonderful what suggestions of wealth may be given by the - judicious handling of a few coppers and a bunch of keys, and the - imagination of The Macnamara being particularly sanguine, he felt that the - most scrupulous moneylender would have offered him at that moment, on the - security of his personal appearance and the sounds of his jingling metal, - any sum of money he might have named. He rather wished that such a - moneylender would drop in. But soon his thoughts changed. The jingling in - his pockets became modified, resembling in tone an unsound peal of muffled - bells; he shook his head several times. - </p> - <p> - “Macnamara, my lad, you were too weak,” he muttered to himself. “You - yielded too soon; you should have stood out for a while; but how could I - stand out when I was sitting in that trap?” - </p> - <p> - He turned round glaring at the chair which he blamed as the cause of his - premature relaxation. He seemed measuring its probable capacities of - resistance; and then he raised his right foot and scrutinised the boot - that covered it. It was not a trustworthy boot, he knew. Once more he - glanced towards the chair, then with a sigh he put his foot down and - walked to the window. - </p> - <p> - Past the window at this instant the car was moving, drawn by a - humble-minded horse, which in its turn was drawn by a boy in a faded and - dilapidated livery that had evidently been originally made for a - remarkably tall man. The length of the garment, though undeniably - embarrassing in the region of the sleeves, had still its advantages, not - the least of which was the concealment of a large portion of the bare legs - of the wearer; it was obvious too that when he should mount his seat, the - boy's bare feet would be effectually hidden, and from a livery-wearing - standpoint this would certainly be worth consideration. - </p> - <p> - The Macnamara gave a critical glance through the single transparent pane - of the window—the pane had been honoured above its fellows by a - polishing about six weeks before—and saw that the defective spring - of the vehicle had been repaired. Coarse twine had been employed for this - purpose; but as this material, though undoubtedly excellent in its way, - and of very general utility, is hardly the most suitable for restoring a - steel spring to its original condition of elasticity, there was a good - deal of jerkiness apparent in the motion of the car, especially when the - wheels turned into the numerous ruts of the drive. The boy at the horse's - head was, however, skilful in avoiding the deeper depths, and the animal - was also most considerate in its gait, checking within itself any unseemly - outburst of spirit and restraining every propensity to break into a trot. - </p> - <p> - “Now, father, I'm ready,” said Standish, entering with his hat on. - </p> - <p> - “Has Eugene brushed my hat?” asked The Macnamara. - </p> - <p> - “My black hat, I mean?” - </p> - <p> - “I didn't know you were going to wear it today, when you were only taking - a drive,” said Standish with some astonishment. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, my boy, I'll wear the black hat, please God, so get it brushed; and - tell him that if he uses the blacking-brush this time I'll have his life.” - Standish went out to deliver these messages; but The Mac-namara stood in - the centre of the big room pondering over some weighty question. - </p> - <p> - “I will,” he muttered, as though a better impulse of his nature were in - the act of overcoming an unworthy suggestion. “Yes, I will; when I'm - wearing the black hat things should be levelled up to that standard; yes, - I will.” - </p> - <p> - Standish entered in a few minutes with his father's hat—a tall, - old-fashioned silk hat that had at one time, pretty far remote, been - black. The Macnamara put it on carefully, after he had just touched the - edges with his coat-cuff to remove the least suspicion of dust; then he - strode out followed by his son. - </p> - <p> - The car was standing at the hall door, and Eugene the driver was beside - it, giving a last look to the cordage of the spring. When The Macnamara, - however, appeared, he sprang up and touched his forehead, with a smile of - remarkable breadth. The Macnamara stood impassive, and in dignified - silence, looking first at the horse, then at the car, and finally at the - boy Eugene, while Standish remained at the other side. Eugene bore the - gaze of the hereditary monarch pretty well on the whole, conscious of the - abundance of his own coat. The scrutiny of The Macnamara passed gradually - down the somewhat irregular row of buttons until it rested on the - protruding bare feet of the boy. Then after another moment of impressive - silence, he waved one hand gracefully towards the door, saying: - </p> - <p> - “Eugene, get on your boots.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II. - </h2> - <p class="indent30"> - Let the world take note - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - You are the most immediate to our throne; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And with no less nobility of love - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Than that which dearest father bears his son - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Do I impart toward you. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - How is it that the clouds still hang on you? - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl. - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - Hamlet. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN the head of a - community has, after due deliberation, resolved upon the carrying out of - any bold social step, he may expect to meet with the opposition that - invariably obstructs the reformer's advance; so that one is tempted—nay, - modern statesmanship compels one—to believe that secrecy until a - projected design is fully matured is a wise, or at least an effective, - policy. The military stratagem of a surprise is frequently attended with - good results in dealing with an enemy, and as a friendly policy why should - it not succeed? - </p> - <p> - This was, beyond a question, the course of thought pursued by The - Macnamara before he uttered those words to Eugene. He had not given the - order without careful deliberation, but when he had come to the conclusion - that circumstances demanded the taking of so bold a step, he had not - hesitated in his utterance. - </p> - <p> - Eugene was indeed surprised, and so also was Standish. The driver took off - his hat and passed his fingers through his hair, looking down to his bare - feet, for he was in the habit of getting a few weeks of warning before a - similar order to that just uttered by his master was given to him. - </p> - <p> - “Do you hear, or are you going to wait till the horse has frozen to the - sod?” inquired The Macnamara; and this brought the mind of the boy out of - the labyrinth of wonder into which it had strayed. He threw down the whip - and the reins, and, tucking up the voluminous skirts of his coat, ran - round the house, commenting briefly as he went along on the remarkable - aspect things were assuming. - </p> - <p> - Entering the kitchen from the rear, where an old man and two old women - were sitting with short pipes alight, he cried, “What's the world comin' - to at all? I've got to put on me boots.” - </p> - <p> - “Holy Saint Bridget,” cried a pious old woman, “he's to put on his - brogues! An' is it The Mac has bid ye, Eugene?” - </p> - <p> - “Sorra a sowl ilse. So just shake a coal in iviry fut to thaw thim a bit, - alana.” - </p> - <p> - While the old woman was performing this operation over the turf fire, - there was some discussion as to what was the nature of the circumstances - that demanded such an unusual proceeding on the part of The Macnamara. - </p> - <p> - “It's only The Mac himsilf that sames to know—. knock the ashes well - about the hale, ma'am—for Masther Standish was as much put out as - mesilf whin The Mac says—nivir moind the toes, ma'am, me fut'll - nivir go more nor halfways up the sowl—says he, 'Git on yer boots;' - as if it was the ordinarist thing in the world;—now I'll thry an' - squaze me fut in.” And he took the immense boot so soon as the fiery ashes - had been emptied from its cavity. - </p> - <p> - “The Mac's pride'll have a fall,” remarked the old man in the corner - sagaciously. - </p> - <p> - “I shouldn't wondher,” said Eugene, pulling on one of the boots. “The - spring is patched with hemp, but it's as loikely to give way as not—holy - Biddy, ye've left a hot coal just at the instep that's made its way to me - bone!” But in spite of this catastrophe, the boy trudged off to the car, - his coat's tails flapping like the foresail of a yacht brought up to the - wind. Then he cautiously mounted his seat in front of the car, letting a - boot protrude effectively on each side of the narrow board. The Macnamara - and his son, who had exchanged no word during the short absence of Eugene - in the kitchen, then took their places, the horse was aroused from its - slumber, and they all passed down the long dilapidated avenue and through - the broad entrance between the great mouldering pillars overclung with ivy - and strange tangled weeds, where a gate had once been, but where now only - a rough pole was drawn across to prevent the trespass of strange animals. - </p> - <p> - Truly pitiful it was to see such signs of dilapidation everywhere around - this demesne of Innishdermot. The house itself was an immense, irregularly - built, rambling castle. Three-quarters of it was in utter ruin, but it had - needed the combined efforts of eight hundred years of time and a thousand - of Cromwell's soldiers to reduce the walls to the condition in which they - were at present. The five rooms of the building that were habitable - belonged to a comparatively new wing, which was supported on the eastern - side by the gable of a small chapel, and on the western by the wall of a - great round tower which stood like a demolished sugar-loaf high above all - the ruins, and lodged a select number of immense owls whose eyesight was - so extremely sensitive, it required an unusual amount of darkness for its - preservation. - </p> - <p> - This was the habitation of The Macnamaras, hereditary kings of Munster, - and here it was that the existing representative of the royal family lived - with his only son, Standish O'Dermot Macnamara. In front of the pile - stretched a park, or rather what had once been a park, but which was now - wild and tangled as any wood. It straggled down to the coastway of the - lough, which, with as many windings as a Norwegian fjord, brought the - green waves of the Atlantic for twenty miles between coasts a thousand - feet in height—coasts which were black and precipitous and pierced - with a hundred mighty caves about the headlands of the entrance, but which - became wooded and more gentle of slope towards the narrow termination of - the basin. The entire of one coastway, from the cliffs that broke the wild - buffet of the ocean rollers, to the little island that lay at the - narrowing of the waters, was the property of The Macnamara. This was all - that had been left to the house which had once held sway over two hundred - miles of coastway, from the kingdom of Kerry to Achill Island, and a - hundred miles of riverway. Pasturages the richest of the world, lake-lands - the most beautiful, mountains the grandest, woods and moors—all had - been ruled over by The Macnamaras, and of all, only a strip of coastway - and a ruined castle remained to the representative of the ancient house, - who was now passing on a jaunting-car between the dilapidated pillars at - the entrance to his desolate demesne. - </p> - <p> - On a small hill that came in sight so soon as the car had passed from - under the gaunt fantastic branches that threw themselves over the wall at - the roadside, as if making a scrambling clutch at something indefinite in - the air, a ruined tower stood out in relief against the blue sky of this - August day. Seeing the ruin in this land of ruins The Macnamara sighed - heavily—too heavily to allow of any one fancying that his emotion - was natural. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, my son, the times have changed,” he said. “Only a few years have - passed—six hundred or so—since young Brian Macnamara left that - very castle to ask the daughter of the great Desmond of the Lake in - marriage. How did he go out, my boy?” - </p> - <p> - “You don't mean that we are now——” - </p> - <p> - “How did he go out?” again asked The Macnamara, interrupting his son's - words of astonishment. “He went out of that castle with three hundred and - sixty-five knights—for he had as many knights as there are days in - the year.”—Here Eugene, who only caught the phonetic sense of this - remarkable fact regarding young Brian Macnamara, gave a grin, which his - master detected and chastised by a blow from his stick upon the mighty - livery coat. - </p> - <p> - “But, father,” said Standish, after the trifling excitement occasioned by - this episode had died away—“but, father, we are surely not going——” - </p> - <p> - “Hush, my son. The young Brian and his retinue went out one August day - like this; and with him was the hundred harpers, the fifty pipers, and the - thirteen noble chiefs of the Lakes, all mounted on the finest of steeds, - and the morning sun glittering on their gems and jewels as if they had - been drops of dew. And so they rode to the castle of Desmond, and when he - shut the gates in the face of the noble retinue and sent out a haughty - message that, because the young Prince Brian had slain The Desmond's two - sons, he would not admit him as a suitor to his daughter, the noble young - prince burnt The Desmond's tower to the ground and carried off the - daughter, who, as the bards all agree, was the loveliest of her sex. Ah, - that was a wooing worthy of The Mac-namaras. These are the degenerate days - when a prince of The Macnamaras goes on a broken-down car to ask the hand - of a daughter of the Geralds.” Here a low whistle escaped from Eugene, and - he looked down at his boots just as The Macnamara delivered another rebuke - to him of the same nature as the former. - </p> - <p> - “But we're not going to—to—Suanmara!” cried Standish in - dismay. - </p> - <p> - “Then where are we going, maybe you'll tell me?” said his father. - </p> - <p> - “Not there—not there; you never said you were going there. Why - should we go there?” - </p> - <p> - “Just for the same reason that your noble forefather Brian Macnamara went - to the tower of The Desmond,” said the father, leaving it to Standish to - determine which of the noble acts of the somewhat impetuous young prince - their present excursion was designed to emulate. - </p> - <p> - “Do you mean to say, father, that—that—oh, no one could think - of such a thing as——” - </p> - <p> - “My son,” said the hereditary monarch coolly, “you made a confession to me - this morning that only leaves me one course. The honour of The Macnamaras - is at stake, and as the representative of the family it's my duty to - preserve it untarnished. When a son of mine confesses his affection for a - lady, the only course he can pursue towards her is to marry her, let her - even be a Gerald.” - </p> - <p> - “I won't go on such a fool's errand,” cried the young man. “She—her - grandfather—they would laugh at such a proposal.” - </p> - <p> - “The Desmond laughed, and what came of it, my boy?” said the Macnamara - sternly. - </p> - <p> - “I will not go on any farther,” cried Standish, unawed by the reference to - the consequences of the inopportune hilarity of The Desmond. “How could - you think that I would have the presumption to fancy for the least moment - that—that—she—that is—that they would listen to—to - anything I might say? Oh, the idea is absurd!” - </p> - <p> - “My boy, I am the head of the line of The Munster Macnamaras, and the head - always decides in delicate matters like this. I'll not have the feeling's - of the lady trifled with even by a son of my own. Didn't you confess all - to me?” - </p> - <p> - “I will not go on,” the young man cried again. “She—that is—they - will think that we mean an affront—and it is a gross insult to her—to - them—to even fancy that—oh, if we were anything but what we - are there would be some hope—some chance; if I had only been allowed - my own way I might have won her in time—long years perhaps, but - still some time. But now——” - </p> - <p> - “Recreant son of a noble house, have you no more spirit than a Saxon?” - said the father, trying to assume a dignified position, an attempt that - the jerking of the imperfect spring of the vehicle frustrated. “Mightn't - the noblest family in Europe think it an honour to be allied with The - Munster Macnamaras, penniless though we are?” - </p> - <p> - “Don't go to-day, father,” said Standish, almost piteously; “no, not - to-day. It is too sudden—my mind is not made up.” - </p> - <p> - “But mine is, my boy. Haven't I prepared everything so that there can be - no mistake?”—here he pressed his tall hat more firmly upon his - forehead, and glanced towards Eugene's boots that projected a considerable - way beyond the line of the car. “My boy,” he continued, “The Macnamaras - descend to ally themselves with any other family only for the sake of - keeping up the race. It's their solemn duty.' - </p> - <p> - “I'll not go on any farther on such an errand—I will not be such a - fool,” said Standish, making a movement on his side of the car. - </p> - <p> - “My boy,” said The Macnamara unconcernedly, “my boy, you can get off at - any moment; your presence will make no difference in the matter. The - matrimonial alliances of The Macnamaras are family matters, not - individual. The head of the race only is accountable to posterity for the - consequences of the acts of them under him. I'm the head of the race.” He - removed his hat and looked upward, somewhat jerkily, but still - impressively. - </p> - <p> - Standish Macnamara's eyes flashed and his hands clenched themselves over - the rail of the car, but he did not make any attempt to carry out his - threat of getting off. He did not utter another word. How could he? It was - torture to him to hear his father discuss beneath the ear of the boy - Eugene such a question as his confession of love for a certain lady. It - was terrible for him to observe the expression of interest which was - apparent upon the ingenuous face of Eugene, and to see his nods of - approval at the words of The Macnamara. What could poor Standish do beyond - closing his teeth very tightly and clenching his hands madly as the car - jerked its way along the coast of Lough Suangorm, in view of a portion of - the loveliest scenery in the world? - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Seem to me all the uses of this world. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Gather by him, as he is behaved, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - If't be the affliction of his love or no - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - That thus he suffers for. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Break my heart, for I must hold my tongue. - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - Hamlet. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE road upon which - the car was driving was made round an elevated part of the coast of the - lough. It curved away from where the castle of The Macnamaras was situated - on one side of the water, to the termination of the lough. It did not - slope downwards in the least at any part, but swept on to the opposite - lofty shore, five hundred feet above the great rollers from the Atlantic - that spent themselves amongst the half-hidden rocks. - </p> - <p> - The car jerked on in silence after The Macnamara had spoken his impressive - sentence. Standish's hands soon relaxed their passionate hold upon the - rail of the car, and, in spite of his consciousness of being twenty-three - years of age, he found it almost impossible to restrain his tears of - mortification from bursting their bonds. He knew how pure—how - fervent—how exhaustless was the love that filled all his heart. He - had been loving, not without hope, but without utterance, for years, and - now all the fruit of his patience—of his years of speechlessness—would - be blighted by the ridiculous action of his father. What would now be left - for him in the world? he asked himself, and the despairing tears of his - heart gave him his only answer. - </p> - <p> - He was on the seaward side of the car, which was now passing out of the - green shade of the boughs that for three miles overhung the road. Then as - the curve of the termination of the lough was approached, the full - panorama of sea and coast leapt into view, with all the magical glamour - those wizards Motion and Height can enweave round a scene. Far beneath, - the narrow band of blue water lost itself amongst the steep cliffs. The - double coasts of the lough that were joined at the point of vision, - broadened out in undulating heights towards the mighty headlands of the - entrance, that lifted up their hoary brows as the lion-waves of the - Atlantic leapt between them and crouched in unwieldy bulk at their bases. - Far away stretched that ocean, its horizon lost in mist; and above the - line of rugged coast-cliff arose mountains—mighty masses tumbled - together in black confusion, like Titanic gladiators locked in the close - throes of the wrestle. - </p> - <p> - Never before had the familiar scene so taken Standish in its arms, so to - speak, as it did now. He felt it. He looked down at the screen islands of - the lough encircled with the floss of the moving waters; he looked along - the slopes of the coasts with the ruins of ancient days on their summits, - then his eyes went out to where the sun dipped towards the Atlantic, and - he felt no more that passion of mortification which his reflections had - aroused. Quickly as it had sprung into view the scene dissolved, as the - car entered a glen, dim in the shadow of a great hill whose slope, swathed - in purple heather to its highest peak, made a twilight at noon-day to all - beneath. In the distance of the winding road beyond the dark edge of the - mountain were seen the gray ridges of another range running far inland. - With the twilight shadow of the glen, the shadow seemed to come again over - the mind of Standish. He gave himself up to his own sad thoughts, and - when, from a black tarn amongst the low pine-trees beneath the road, a - tall heron rose and fled silently through the silent air to the foot of - the slope, he regarded it ominously, as he would have done a raven. - </p> - <p> - There they sat speechless upon the car. The Macnamara, who was a short, - middle-aged man with a rather highly-coloured face, and features that not - even the most malignant could pronounce of a Roman or even of a Saxon - type, was sitting in silent dignity of which he seemed by no means - unconscious Standish, who was tall, slender almost to a point of lankness, - and gray-eyed, was morosely speechless, his father felt. Nature had not - given The Macnamara a son after his own heart. The young man's features, - that had at one time showed great promise of developing into the pure - Milesian, had not fulfilled the early hope they had raised in his father's - bosom; they had within the past twelve years exhibited a downward tendency - that was not in keeping with the traditions of The Macnamaras. If the - direction of the caressing hand of Nature over the features of the family - should be reversed, what would remain to distinguish The Macnamaras from - their Saxon invaders? This was a question whose weight had for some time - oppressed the representative of the race; and he could only quiet his - apprehension by the assurance which forced itself upon his mind, that - Nature would never persist in any course prejudicial to her own interests - in the maintenance of an irreproachable type of manhood. - </p> - <p> - Then it was a great grief to the father to become aware of the fact that - the speech of Standish was all unlike his own in accent; it was, indeed, - terribly like the ordinary Saxon speech—at least it sounded so to - The Macnamara, whose vowels were diphthongic to a marked degree. But of - course the most distressing reflection of the head of the race had - reference to the mental disqualifications of his son to sustain the - position which he would some day have to occupy as The Macnamara; for - Standish had of late shown a tendency to accept the position accorded to - him by the enemies of his race, and to allow that there existed a certain - unwritten statute of limitations in the maintenance of the divine right of - monarchs. He actually seemed to be under the impression that because nine - hundred years had elapsed since a Macnamara had been the acknowledged king - of Munster, the claim to be regarded as a royal family should not be - strongly urged. This was very terrible to The Macnamara. And now he - reflected upon all these matters as he held in a fixed and fervent grasp - the somewhat untrustworthy rail of the undoubtedly shaky vehicle. - </p> - <p> - Thus in silence the car was driven through the dim glen, until the slope - on the seaward-side of the road dwindled away and once more the sea came - in sight; and, with the first glimpse of the sea, the square tower of an - old, though not an ancient, castle that stood half hidden by trees at the - base of the purple mountain. In a few minutes the car pulled up at the - entrance gate to a walled demesne. - </p> - <p> - “Will yer honours git off here?” asked Eugene, preparing to throw the - reins down. - </p> - <p> - “Never!” cried The Macnamara emphatically. “Never will the head of the - race descend to walk up to the door of a foreigner. Drive up to the very - hall, Eugene, as the great Brian Macnamara would have done.” - </p> - <p> - “An' it's hopin' I am that his car-sphrings wouldn't be mindid with hemp,” - remarked the boy, as he pulled the horse round and urged his mild career - through the great pillars at the entrance. - </p> - <p> - Everything about this place gave signs of having been cared for. The - avenue was long, but it could be traversed without any risk of the vehicle - being lost in the landslip of a rut. The grass around the trees, though by - no means trimmed at the edges, was still not dank with weeds, and the - trees themselves, if old, had none of the gauntness apparent in all the - timber about the castle of The Macnamara. As the car went along there was - visible every now and again the flash of branching antlers among the green - foliage, and more than once the stately head of a red deer appeared gazing - at the visitors, motionless, as if the animal had been a painted statue. - </p> - <p> - The castle, opposite whose black oak door Eugene at last dropped his - reins, was by no means an imposing building. It was large and square, and - at one wing stood the square ivy-covered tower that was seen from the - road. Above it rose the great dark mountain ridge, and in front rolled the - Atlantic, for the trees prevented the shoreway from being seen. - </p> - <p> - “Eugene, knock at the door of the Geralds,” said The Macnamara from his - seat on the car, with a dignity the emphasis of which would have been - diminished had he dismounted. - </p> - <p> - Eugene—looked upward at this order, shook his head in wonderment, - and then got down, but not with quite the same expedition as his boot, - which could not sustain the severe test of being suspended for any time in - the air. He had not fully secured it again on his bare foot before a laugh - sounded from the balcony over the porch—a laugh that made Standish's - face redder than any rose—that made Eugene glance up with a grin and - touch his hat, even before a girl's voice was heard saying: - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Eugene, Eugene! What a clumsy fellow you are, to be sure.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, don't be a sayin' of that, Miss Daireen, ma'am,” the boy replied, as - he gave a final stamp to secure possession of the boot. - </p> - <p> - The Macnamara looked up and gravely removed his hat; but Standish having - got down from the car turned his gaze seawards. Had he followed his - father's example, he would have seen the laughing face and the graceful - figure of a girl leaning over the balustrade of the porch surveying the - group beneath her. - </p> - <p> - “And how do you do, Macnamara?” she said. “No, no, don't let Eugene knock; - all the dogs are asleep except King Cormac, and I am too grateful to allow - their rest to be broken. I'll go down and give you entrance.” - </p> - <p> - She disappeared from the balcony, and in a few moments the hall door was - softly sundered and the western sunlight fell about the form of the - portress. The girl was tall and exquisitely moulded, from her little blue - shoe to her rich brown hair, over which the sun made light and shade; her - face was slightly flushed with her rapid descent and the quick kiss of the - sunlight, and her eyes were of the most gracious gray that ever shone or - laughed or wept. But her mouth—it was a visible song. It expressed - all that song is capable of suggesting—passion of love or of anger, - comfort of hope or of charity. - </p> - <p> - “Enter, O my king-,” she said, giving The Macnamara her hand; then turning - to Standish, “How do you do, Standish? Why do you not come in?” - </p> - <p> - But Standish uttered no word. He took her hand for a second and followed - his father into the big square oaken hall. All were black oak, floor and - wall and ceiling, only while the sunlight leapt through the open door was - the sombre hue relieved by the flashing of the arms that lined the walls, - and the glittering of the enormous elk-antlers that spread their branches - over the lintels. - </p> - <p> - “And you drove all round the coast to see me, I hope,” said the girl, as - they stood together under the battle-axes of the brave days of old, when - the qualifications for becoming a successful knight and a successful - blacksmith were identical. - </p> - <p> - “We drove round to admire the beauty of the lovely Daireen,” said The - Macnamara, with a flourish of the hand that did him infinite credit. - </p> - <p> - “If that is all,” laughed the girl, “your visit will not be a long one.” - She was standing listlessly caressing with her hand the coarse hide of - King Corrnac, a gigantic Wolf-dog, and in that posture looked like a - statue of the Genius of her country. The dog had been welcoming Standish a - moment before, and the young man's hand still resting upon its head, felt - the casual touch of the girl's fingers as she played with the animal's - ears. Every touch sent a thrill of passionate delight through him. - </p> - <p> - “The beauty of the daughter of the Geralds is worth coming so far to see; - and now that I look at her before me——” - </p> - <p> - “Now you know that it is impossible to make out a single feature in this - darkness,” said Daireen. “So come along into the drawing-room.” - </p> - <p> - “Go with the lovely Daireen, my boy,” said The Macnamara, as the girl led - the way across the hall. “For myself, I think I'll just turn in here.” He - opened a door at one side of the hall and exposed to view, within the room - beyond, a piece of ancient furniture which was not yet too decrepit to - sustain the burden of a row of square glass bottles and tumblers. But - before he entered he whispered to Standish with an appropriate action, - “Make it all right with her by the time come I back.” And so he vanished. - </p> - <p> - “The Macnamara is right,” said Daireen. “You must join him in taking a - glass of wine after your long drive, Standish.” - </p> - <p> - For the first time since he had spoken on the car Standish found his - voice. - </p> - <p> - “I do not want to drink anything, Daireen,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Then we shall go round to the garden and try to find grandpapa, if you - don't want to rest.” - </p> - <p> - With her brown unbonneted hair tossing in its irregular strands about her - neck, she went out by a door at the farther end of the square hall, and - Standish followed her by a high-arched passage that seemed to lead right - through the building. At the extremity was an iron gate which the girl - unlocked, and they passed into a large garden somewhat wild in its growth, - but with its few brilliant spots of colour well brought out by the general - <i>feeling</i> of purple that forced itself upon every one beneath the - shadow of the great mountain-peak. Very lovely did that world of heather - seem now as the sun burned over against the slope, stirring up the - wonderful secret hues of dark blue and crimson. The peak stood out in bold - relief against the pale sky, and above its highest point an eagle sailed. - </p> - <p> - “I have such good news for you, Standish,” said Miss Gerald. “You cannot - guess what it is.” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot guess what good news there could possibly be in store for me,” - he replied, with so much sadness in his voice that the girl gave a little - start, and then the least possible smile, for she was well aware that the - luxury of sadness was frequently indulged in by her companion. - </p> - <p> - “It is good news for you, for me, for all of us, for all the world, for—well, - for everybody that I have not included. Don't laugh at me, please, for my - news is that papa is coming home at last. Now, isn't that good news?” - </p> - <p> - “I am very glad to hear it,” said Standish. “I am very glad because I know - it will make you happy.” - </p> - <p> - “How nicely said; and I know you feel it, my dear Standish. Ah, poor papa! - he has had a hard time of it, battling with the terrible Indian climate - and with those annoying people.” - </p> - <p> - “It is a life worth living,” cried Standish. “After you are dead the world - feels that you have lived in it. The world is the better for your life.” - </p> - <p> - “You are right,” said Daireen. “Papa leaves India crowned with honours, as - the newspapers say. The Queen has made him a C.B., you know. But—only - think how provoking it is—he has been ordered by the surgeon of his - regiment to return by long-sea, instead of overland, for the sake of his - health; so that though I got his letter from Madras yesterday to tell me - that he was at the point of starting, it will be another month before I - can see him.” - </p> - <p> - “But then he will no doubt have completely recovered,” said Standish. - </p> - <p> - “That is my only consolation. Yes; he will be himself again—himself - as I saw him five years ago in our bungalow—how well I remember it - and its single plantain-tree in the garden where the officers used to hunt - me for kisses.” - </p> - <p> - Standish frowned. It was, to him, a hideous recollection for the girl to - have. He would cheerfully have undertaken the strangulation of each of - those sportive officers. “I should have learned a great deal during these - five years that have passed since I was sent to England to school, but I'm - afraid I didn't. Never mind, papa won't cross-examine me to see if his - money has been wasted. But why do you look so sad, Standish? You do look - sad, you know.” - </p> - <p> - “I feel it too,” he cried. “I feel more wretched than I can tell you. I'm - sick of everything here—no, not here, you know, but at home. There I - am in that cursed jail, shut out from the world, a beggar without the - liberty to beg.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Standish!” - </p> - <p> - “But it is the truth, Daireen. I might as well be dead as living as I am. - Yes, better—I wish to God I was dead, for then there might be at - least some chance of making a beginning in a new sort of life under - different conditions.” - </p> - <p> - “Isn't it wicked to talk that way, Standish?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know,” he replied doggedly. “Wickedness and goodness have ceased - to be anything more to me than vague conditions of life in a world I have - nothing to say to. I cannot be either good or bad here.” - </p> - <p> - Daireen looked very solemn at this confession of impotence. - </p> - <p> - “You told me you meant to speak to The Mac-namara about going away or - doing something,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “And I did speak to him, but it came to the one end: it was a disgrace for - the son of the——— bah, you know how he talks. Every - person of any position laughs at him; only those worse than himself think - that he is wronged. But I'll do something, if it should only be to enlist - as a common soldier.” - </p> - <p> - “Standish, do not talk that way, like a good boy,” she said, laying her - hand upon his arm. “I have a bright thought for the first time: wait just - for another month until papa is here, and he will, you may be sure, tell - you what is exactly right to do. Oh, there is grandpapa, with his gun as - usual, coming from the hill.” - </p> - <p> - They saw at a little distance the figure of a tall old man carrying a gun, - and followed by a couple of sporting dogs. - </p> - <p> - “Daireen,” said Standish, stopping suddenly as if a thought had just - struck him. “Daireen, promise me that you will not let anything my father - may say here to-day make you think badly of me.” - </p> - <p> - “Good gracious! why should I ever do that? What is he going to say that is - so dreadful?” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot tell you, Daireen; but you will promise me;” he had seized her - by the hand and was looking with earnest entreaty into her eyes. - “Daireen,” he continued, “you will give me your word. You have been such a - friend to me always—such a good angel to me.” - </p> - <p> - “And we shall always be friends, Standish. I promise you this. Now let go - my hand, like a good boy.” - </p> - <p> - He obeyed her, and in a few minutes they had met Daireen's grandfather, - Mr. Gerald, who had been coming towards them. - </p> - <p> - “What, The Macnamara here? then I must hasten to him,” said the old - gentleman, handing his gun to Standish. - </p> - <p> - No one knew better than Mr. Gerald the necessity that existed for - hastening to The Macnamara, in case of his waiting for a length of time in - that room the sideboard of which was laden with bottles. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - You told us of some suit: what is't, Laertes? - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow' leave - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - By laboursome petition; and at last, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Upon his will I sealed my hard consent. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Horatio. There's no offence, my lord. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Hamlet. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And much offence too. - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - —Hamlet. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Macnamara had - been led away from his companionship in that old oak room by the time his - son and Miss Gerald returned from the garden, and the consciousness of his - own dignity seemed to have increased considerably since they had left him. - This emotion was a variable possession with him: any one acquainted with - his habits could without difficulty, from knowing the degree of dignity he - manifested at any moment, calculate minutely the space of time, he must of - necessity have spent in a room furnished similarly to that he had just now - left. - </p> - <p> - He was talking pretty loudly in the room to which he had been led by Mr. - Gerald when Daireen and Standish entered; and beside him was a whitehaired - old lady whom Standish greeted as Mrs. Gerald and the girl called - grandmamma—an old lady with very white hair but with large dark eyes - whose lustre remained yet undimmed. - </p> - <p> - “Standish will reveal the mystery,” said this old lady, as the young man - shook hands with her. “Your father has been speaking in proverbs, - Standish, and we want your assistance to read them.” - </p> - <p> - “He is my son,” said The Macnamara, waving his hand proudly and lifting up - his head. “He will hear his father speak on his behalf. Head of the - Geralds, Gerald-na-Tor, chief of the hills, the last of The Macnamaras, - king's of Munster, Innishdermot, and all islands, comes to you.” - </p> - <p> - “And I am honoured by his visit, and glad to find him looking so well.” - said Mr. Gerald. “I am only sorry you can't make it suit you to come - oftener, Macnamara.” - </p> - <p> - “It's that boy Eugene that's at fault,” said The Macnamara, dropping so - suddenly into a colloquial speech from his eloquent Ossianic strain that - one might have been led to believe his opening words were somewhat forced. - “Yes, my lad,” he continued, addressing Mr. Gerald; “that Eugene is either - breaking the springs or the straps or his own bones.” Here he recollected - that his mission was not one to be expressed in this ordinary vein. He - straightened himself in an instant, and as he went on asserted even more - dignity than before. “Gerald, you know my position, don't you? and you - know your 'own; but you can't say, can you, that The Macnamara ever held - himself aloof from your table by any show of pride? I mixed with you as if - we were equals.” - </p> - <p> - Again he waved his hand patronisingly, but no one showed the least sign of - laughter. Standish was in front of one of the windows leaning his head - upon his hand as he looked out to the misty ocean. “Yes, I've treated you - at all times as if you had been born of the land, though this ground we - tread on this moment was torn from the grasp of The Macnamaras by fraud.” - </p> - <p> - “True, true—six hundred years ago,” remarked Mr. Gerald. He had been - so frequently reminded of this fact during his acquaintance with The - Macnamara, he could afford to make the concession he now did. - </p> - <p> - “But I've not let that rankle in my heart,” continued The Macnamara; “I've - descended to break bread with you and to drink—drink water with you—ay, - at times. You know my son too, and you know that if he's not the same as - his father to the backbone, it's not his father that's to blame for it. It - was the last wish of his poor mother—rest her soul!—that he - should be schooled outside our country, and you know that I carried out - her will, though it cost me dear. He's been back these four years, as you - know—what's he looking out at at the window?—but it's only - three since he found out the pearl of the Lough Suangorm—the diamond - of Slieve Docas—the beautiful daughter of the Geralds. Ay, he - confessed to me this morning where his soft heart had turned, poor boy. - Don't be blushing, Standish; the blood of the Macnamaras shouldn't betray - itself in their cheeks.” - </p> - <p> - Standish had started away from the window before his father had ended; his - hands were clenched, and his cheeks were burning with shame. He could not - fail to see the frown that was settling down upon the face of Mr. Gerald. - But he dared not even glance towards Daireen. - </p> - <p> - “My dear Macnamara, we needn't talk on this subject any farther just now,” - said the girl's grandfather, as the orator paused for an instant. - </p> - <p> - But The Macnamara only gave his hand another wave before he proceeded. “I - have promised my boy to make him happy,” he said, “and you know what the - word of a Macnamara is worth even to his son; so, though I confess I was - taken aback at first, yet I at last consented to throw over my natural - family pride and to let my boy have his way. An alliance between the - Macnamaras and the Geralds is not what would have been thought about a few - years ago, but The Macnamaras have always been condescending.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, you condescend to a jest now and again with us, but really this - is a sort of mystery I have no clue to,” said Mr. Gerald. - </p> - <p> - “Mystery? Ay, it will astonish the world to know that The Macnamara has - given his consent to such an alliance; it must be kept secret for a while - for fear of its effects upon the foreign States that have their eyes upon - all our steps. I wouldn't like this made a State affair at all.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear Macnamara, you are usually very lucid,” said Mr. Gerald, “but - to-day I somehow cannot arrive at your meaning.” - </p> - <p> - “What, sir?” cried The Macnamara, giving his head an angry twitch. “What, - sir, do you mean to tell me that you don't understand that I have given my - consent to my son taking as his wife the daughter of the Geralds?—see - how the lovely Daireen blushes like a rose.” - </p> - <p> - Daireen was certainly blushing, as she left her seat and went over to the - farthest end of the room. But Standish was deadly pale, his lips tightly - closed. - </p> - <p> - “Macnamara, this is absurd—quite absurd!” said Mr. Gerald, hastily - rising. “Pray let us talk no more in such a strain.” - </p> - <p> - Then The Macnamara's consciousness of his own dignity asserted itself. He - drew himself up and threw back his head. “Sir, do you mean to put an - affront upon the one who has left his proper station to raise your family - to his own level?” - </p> - <p> - “Don't let us quarrel, Macnamara; you know how highly I esteem you - personally, and you know that I have ever looked upon the family of the - Macnamaras as the noblest in the land.” - </p> - <p> - “And it is the noblest in the land. There's not a drop of blood in our - veins that hasn't sprung from the heart of a king,” cried The Macnamara. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes, I know it; but—well, we will not talk any further to-day. - Daireen, you needn't go away.” - </p> - <p> - “Heavens! do you mean to say that I haven't spoken plainly enough, that——” - </p> - <p> - “Now, Macnamara, I must really interrupt you——” - </p> - <p> - “Must you?” cried the representative of the ancient line, his face - developing all the secret resources of redness it possessed. “Must you - interrupt the hereditary monarch of the country where you're but an - immigrant when he descends to equalise himself with you? This is the - reward of condescension! Enough, sir, you have affronted the family that - were living in castles when your forefathers were like beasts in caves. - The offer of an alliance ought to have come from you, not from me; but - never again will it be said that The Macnamara forgot what was due to him - and his family. No, by the powers, Gerald, you'll never have the chance - again. I scorn you; I reject your alliance. The Macnamara seats himself - once more upon his ancient throne, and he tramples upon you all. Come, my - son, look at him that has insulted your family—look at him for the - last time and lift up your head.” - </p> - <p> - The grandeur with which The Macnamara uttered this speech was - overpowering. He had at its conclusion turned towards poor Standish, and - waved his hand in the direction of Mr. Gerald. Then Standish seemed to - have recovered himself. - </p> - <p> - “No, father, it is you who have insulted this family by talking as you - have done,” he cried passionately. - </p> - <p> - “Boy!” shouted The Macnamara. “Recreant son of a noble race, don't demean - yourself with such language!” - </p> - <p> - “It is you who have demeaned our family,” cried the son still more - energetically. “You have sunk us even lower than we were before.” Then he - turned imploringly towards Mr. Gerald. “You know—you know that I am - only to be pitied, not blamed, for my father's words,” he said quietly, - and then went to the door. - </p> - <p> - “My dear boy,” said the old lady, hastening towards him. - </p> - <p> - “Madam!” cried The Macnamara, raising his arm majestically to stay her. - </p> - <p> - She stopped in the centre of the room. Daireen had also risen, her pure - eyes full of tears as she grasped her grandfather's hand while he laid his - other upon her head. - </p> - <p> - From the door Standish looked with passionate gratitude back to the girl, - then rushed out. - </p> - <p> - But The Macnamara stood for some moments with his head elevated, the - better to express the scorn that was in his heart. No one made a motion, - and then he stalked after his son. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - What advancement may I hope from thee - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - That no revenue hast... - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - To feed and clothe thee? - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Guildenstern. The King, sir,— - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Hamlet. Ay, sir, what of him? - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Guild. Is in his retirement marvellous distempered. - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Hamlet. With drink, sir? - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Guild. No, my lord, rather with choler. - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Hamlet. The King doth wake to-night and takes his - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - rouse. - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Horatio. Is it a custom? - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Hamlet. Ay, marry is't: - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - But to my mind, though I am native here, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - And to the manner born, it is a custom - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - More honour'd in the breach than the observance. - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - This heavy-headed revel... - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Makes us traduced and taxed.—Hamlet. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>O do The Macnamara - justice, while he was driving homeward upon that very shaky car round the - lovely coast, he was somewhat disturbed in mind as he reflected upon the - possible consequences of his quarrel with old Mr. Gerald. He was dimly - conscious of the truth of the worldly and undeniably selfish maxim - referring to the awkwardness of a quarrel with a neighbour. And if there - is any truth in it as a general maxim, its value is certainly intensified - when the neighbour in question has been the lender of sundry sums of - money. A neighbour under these conditions should not be quarrelled with, - he knew. - </p> - <p> - The Macnamara had borrowed from Mr. Gerald, at various times, certain - moneys which had amounted in the aggregate to a considerable sum; for - though Daireen's grandfather was not possessed of a very large income from - the land that had been granted to his ancestors some few hundred years - before, he had still enough to enable him from time to time to oblige The - Macnamara with a loan. And this reflection caused The Macnamara about as - much mental uneasiness as the irregular motion of the vehicle did physical - discomfort. By the time, however, that the great hill, whose heather slope - was now wrapped in the purple shade of twilight, its highest peak alone - being bathed in the red glory of the sunset, was passed, his mind was - almost at ease; for he recalled the fact that his misunderstandings with - Mr. Gerald were exactly equal in number to his visits; he never passed an - hour at Suanmara without what would at any rate have been a quarrel but - for Mr. Gerald's good nature, which refused to be ruffled. And as no - reference had ever upon these occasions been made to his borrowings, The - Macnamara felt that he had no reason to conclude that his present quarrel - would become embarrassing through any action of Mr. Gerald's. So he tried - to feel the luxury of the scorn that he had so powerfully expressed in the - room at Suanmara. - </p> - <p> - “Mushrooms of a night's growth!” he muttered. “I trampled them beneath my - feet. They may go down on their knees before me now, I'll have nothing to - say to them.” Then as the car passed out of the glen and he saw before him - the long shadows of the hills lying amongst the crimson and yellow flames - that swept from the sunset out on the Atlantic, and streamed between the - headlands at the entrance to the lough, he became more fixed in his - resolution. “The son of The Macnamara will never wed with the daughter of - a man that is paid by the oppressors of the country, no, never!” - </p> - <p> - This was an allusion to the fact of Daireen's father being a colonel in - the British army, on service in India. Then exactly between the headlands - the sun went down in a gorgeous mist that was permeated with the glow of - the orb it enveloped. The waters shook and trembled in the light, but the - many islands of the lough remained dark and silent in the midst of the - glow. The Macnamara became more resolute still. He had almost forgotten - that he had ever borrowed a penny from Mr. Gerald. He turned to where - Standish sat silent and almost grim. - </p> - <p> - “And you, boy,” said the father—“you, that threw your insults in my - face—you, that's a disgrace to the family—I've made up my mind - what I'll do with you; I'll—yes, by the powers, I'll disinherit - you.” - </p> - <p> - But not a word did Standish utter in reply to this threat, the force of - which, coupled with an expressive motion of the speaker, jeopardised the - imperfect spring, and wrung from Eugene a sudden exclamation. - </p> - <p> - “Holy mother o' Saint Malachi, kape the sthring from breakin' yit awhile!” - he cried devoutly. - </p> - <p> - And it seemed that the driver's devotion was efficacious, for, without any - accident, the car reached the entrance to Innishdermot, as the residence - of the ancient monarchs had been called since the days when the waters of - Lough Suangorm had flowed all about the castle slope, for even the lough - had become reduced in strength. - </p> - <p> - The twilight, rich and blue, was now swathing the mountains and - overshadowing the distant cliffs, though the waters at their base were - steel gray and full of light that seemed to shine upwards through their - depth. Desolate, truly, the ruins loomed through the dimness. Only a - single feeble light glimmered from one of the panes, and even this seemed - agonising to the owls, for they moaned wildly and continuously from the - round tower. There was, indeed, scarcely an aspect of welcome in anything - that surrounded this home which one family had occupied for seven hundred - years. - </p> - <p> - As the car stopped at the door, however, there came a voice from an unseen - figure, saying, in even a more pronounced accent than The Macnamara - himself gloried in, “Wilcome, ye noble sonns of noble soyers! Wilcome back - to the anshent home of the gloryous race that'll stand whoile there's a - sod of the land to bear it.” - </p> - <p> - “It's The Randal himself,” said The Macnamara, looking in the direction - from which the sound came. “And where is it that you are, Randal? Oh, I - see your pipe shining like a star out of the ivy.” - </p> - <p> - From the forest of ivy that clung about the porch of the castle the figure - of a small man emerged. One of his hands was in his pocket, the other - removed a short black pipe, the length of whose stem in comparison to the - breadth of its bowl was as the proportion of Falstaff's bread to his sack. - </p> - <p> - “Wilcome back, Macnamara,” said this gentleman, who was indeed The Randal, - hereditary chief of Suangorm. “An' Standish too, how are ye, my boy?” - Standish shook hands with the speaker, but did not utter a word. “An' - where is it ye're afther dhrivin' from?” continued The Randal. - </p> - <p> - “It's a long drive and a long story,” said The Macnamara. - </p> - <p> - “Thin for hivin's sake don't begin it till we've put boy the dinner. I'm - goin' to take share with ye this day, and I'm afther waitin' an hour and - more.” - </p> - <p> - “It's welcome The Randal is every day in the week,” said The Macnamara, - leading the way into the great dilapidated hall, where in the ancient days - fifty men-at-arms had been wont to feast royally. Now it was black in - night. - </p> - <p> - In the room where the dinner was laid there were but two candles, and - their feeble glimmer availed no more than to make the blotches on the - cloth more apparent: the maps of the British Isles done in mustard and - gravy were numerous. At each end a huge black bottle stood like a sentry - at the border of a snowfield. - </p> - <p> - By far the greater portion of the light was supplied by the blazing log in - the fireplace. It lay not in any grate but upon the bare hearth, and - crackled and roared up the chimney like a demon prostrate in torture. The - Randal and his host stood before the blaze, while Standish seated himself - in another part of the room. The ruddy flicker of the wood fire shone upon - the faces of the two men, and the yellow glimmer of the candle upon the - face of Standish. Here and there a polish upon the surface of the black - oak panelling gleamed, but all the rest of the high room was dim. - </p> - <p> - Salmon from the lough, venison from the forest, wild birds from the moor - made up the dinner. All were served on silver dishes strangely worked, and - plates of the same metal were laid before the diners, while horns mounted - on massive stands were the drinking vessels. From these dishes The - Macnamaras of the past had eaten, and from these horns they had drunken, - and though the present head of the family could have gained many years' - income had he given the metal to be melted, he had never for an instant - thought of taking such a step. He would have starved with that plate empty - in front of him sooner than have sold it to buy bread. - </p> - <p> - Standish spoke no word during the entire meal, and the guest saw that - something had gone wrong; so with his native tact he chatted away, asking - questions, but waiting for no answer. - </p> - <p> - When the table was cleared and the old serving-woman had brought in a - broken black kettle of boiling water, and had laid in the centre of the - table an immense silver bowl for the brewing of the punch, The Randal drew - up the remnant of his collar and said: “Now for the sthory of the droive, - Macnamara; I'm riddy whin ye fill the bowl.” - </p> - <p> - Standish rose from the table and walked away to a seat at the furthest end - of the great room, where he sat hidden in the gloom of the corner. The - Randal did not think it inconsistent with his chieftainship to wink at his - host. - </p> - <p> - “Randal,” said The Macnamara, “I've made up my mind. I'll disinherit that - boy, I will.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” cried The Randal eagerly. “Don't spake so loud, man; if this should - git wind through the counthry who knows what might happen? Disinhirit the - boy; ye don't mane it, Macnamara,” he continued in an excited but - awe-stricken whisper. - </p> - <p> - “But by the powers, I do mean it,” cried The Macnamara, who had been - testing the potent elements of the punch. - </p> - <p> - “Disinherit me, will you, father?” came the sudden voice of Standish - echoing strangely down the dark room. Then he rose and stood facing both - men at the table, the red glare of the log mixing with the sickly - candlelight upon his face and quivering hands. “Disinherit me?” he said - again, bitterly. “You cannot do that. I wish you could. My inheritance, - what is it? Degradation of family, proud beggary, a life to be wasted - outside the world of life and work, and a death rejoiced over by those - wretches who have lent you money. Disinherit me from all this, if you - can.” - </p> - <p> - “Holy Saint Malachi, hare the sonn of The Macnamaras talkin' loike a - choild!” cried The Randal. - </p> - <p> - “I don't care who hears me,” said Standish. “I'm sick of hearing about my - forefathers; no one cares about them nowadays. I wanted years ago to go - out into the world and work.” - </p> - <p> - “Work—a Macnamara work!” cried The Randal horror-stricken. - </p> - <p> - “I told you so,” said The Macnamara, in the tone of one who finds sudden - confirmation to the improbable story of some enormity. - </p> - <p> - “I wanted to work as a man should to redeem the shame which our life as it - is at present brings upon our family,” said the young man earnestly—almost - passionately; “but I was not allowed to do anything that I wanted. I was - kept here in this jail wasting my best years; but to-day has brought - everything to an end. You say you will disinherit me, father, but I have - from this day disinherited myself—I have cast off my old existence. - I begin life from to-day.” - </p> - <p> - Then he turned away and went out of the room, leaving his father and his - guest in dumb amazement before their punch. It was some minutes before - either could speak. At last The Randal took adraught of the hot spirit, - and shook his head thoughtfully. - </p> - <p> - “Poor boy! poor boy! he needs to be looked after till he gets over this - turn,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “It's all that girl—that Daireen of the Geralds,” said The - Macnamara. “I found a paper with poetry on it for her this morning, and - when I forced him he confessed that he was in love with her.” - </p> - <p> - “D'ye tell me that? And what more did ye do, Mac?” - </p> - <p> - “I'll tell you,” said the hereditary prince, leaning over the table. - </p> - <p> - And he gave his guest all the details of the visit to the Geralds at - length. - </p> - <p> - But poor Standish had rushed up the crumbling staircase and was lying on - his bed with his face in his hands. It was only now he seemed to feel all - the shame that had caused his face to be red and pale by turns in the - drawing-room at Suanmara. He lay there in a passion of tears, while the - great owls kept moaning and hooting in the tower just outside his window, - making sympathetic melody to his ears. - </p> - <p> - At last he arose and went over to the window and stood gazing out through - the break in the ivy armour of the wall. He gazed over the tops of the - trees growing in a straggling way down the slope to the water's edge. He - could see far away the ocean, whose voice he now and again heard as the - wind bore it around the tower. Thousands of stars glittered above the - water and trembled upon its moving surface. He felt strong now. He felt - that he might never weep again in the world as he had just wept. Then he - turned to another window and sent his eyes out to where that great peak of - Slieve Docas stood out dark and terrible among the stars. He could not see - the house at the base of the hill, but he clenched his hands as he looked - out, saying “Hope.” - </p> - <p> - It was late before he got into his bed, and it was still later when he - awoke and heard, mingling with the cries of the night-birds, the sound of - hoarse singing that floated upward from the room where he had left his - father and The Randal. The prince and the chief were joining their voices - in a native melody, Standish knew; and he was well aware that he would not - be disturbed by the ascent of either during the night. The dormitory - arrangements of the prince and the chief when they had dined in company - were of the simplest nature. - </p> - <p> - Standish went to sleep again, and the ancient rafters, that had heard the - tones of many generations of Macnamaras' voices, trembled for some hours - with the echoes from the room below, while outside the ancient owls hooted - and the ancient sea murmured in its sleep. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI. - </h2> - <p class="indent20"> - What imports this song? - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And you are stay'd for. There; my blessing with thee. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Hamlet. I do not set my life at a pin's fee... - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - It waves me forth again: I'll follow it. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Horatio. What if it tempt you toward the flood?... - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Look whether he has not changed his colour. - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - —Hamlet. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE sounds of wild - harp-music were ascending at even from the depths of Glenmara. The sun had - sunk, and the hues that had been woven round the west were wasting - themselves away on the horizon. The faint shell-pink had drifted and - dwindled far from the place of sunset. The woods of the slopes looked very - dark now that the red glances from the west were withdrawn from their - glossy foliage; but the heather-swathed mountains, towering through the - soft blue air to the dark blue sky, were richly purple, as though the - sunset hues had become entangled amongst the heather, and had forgotten to - fly back to the west that had cast them forth. - </p> - <p> - The little tarn at the foot of the lowest crags was black and still, - waiting for the first star-glimpse, and from its marge came the wild notes - of a harp fitfully swelling and waning; and then arose the still wilder - and more melancholy tones of a man's voice chanting what seemed like a - weird dirge to the fading twilight, and the language was the Irish Celtic—that - language every song of which sounds like a dirge sung over its own death:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Why art thou gone from us, White Dove of the Irish - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - woods? - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Why art thou gone who made all the leaves tremulous with - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - the low voice of love? - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Love that tarried yet afar, though the fleet swallow had - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - come back to us— - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Love that stayed in the far lands though the primrose had - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - cast its gold by the streams— - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Love that heard not the voice sent forth from every new-budded briar— - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - This love came only when thou earnest, and rapture thrilled - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - the heart of the green land. - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Why art thou gone from us, White Dove of the Irish - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - woods? - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - This is a translation of the wild lament that arose in the twilight air - and stirred up the echoes of the rocks. Then the fitful melody of the harp - made an interlude:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Why art thou gone from us, sweet Linnet of the Irish - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - woods? - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Why art thou gone from us whose song brought the Spring - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - to our land? - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Yea, flowers to thy singing arose from the earth in bountiful - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - bloom, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - And scents of the violet, scents of the hawthorn—all scents - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - of the spring - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Were wafted about us when thy voice was heard albeit in - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - autumn. - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - All thoughts of the spring—all its hopes woke and breathed - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - through our hearts, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Till our souls thrilled with passionate song and the perfume - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - of spring which is love. - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Why art thou gone from us, sweet Linnet of the Irish - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - woods? - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Again the chaunter paused and again his harp prolonged the wailing melody. - Then passing into a more sadly soft strain, he continued his song:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy? - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Now thou art gone the berry drops from the arbutus, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - The wind comes in from the ocean with wail and the - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - autumn is sad, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - The yellow leaves perish, whirled wild whither no one can - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - know. - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - As the crisp leaves are crushed in the woods, so our hearts - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - are crushed at thy parting; - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - As the woods moan for the summer departed, so we mourn - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - that we see thee no more. - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy? - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Into the twilight the last notes died away, and a lonely heron standing - among the rushes at the edge of the tarn moved his head critically to one - side as if waiting for another song with which to sympathise. But he was - not the only listener. Far up among the purple crags Standish Macnamara - was lying looking out to the sunset when he heard the sound of the chant - in the glen beneath him. He lay silent while the dirge floated up the - mountain-side and died away among the heather of the peak. But when the - silence of the twilight came once more upon the glen, Standish arose and - made his way downwards to where an old man with one of the small ancient - Irish harps, was seated on a stone, his head bent across the strings upon - which his fingers still rested. Standish knew him to be one Murrough - O'Brian, a descendant of the bards of the country, and an old retainer of - the Gerald family. A man learned in Irish, but not speaking an - intelligible sentence in English. - </p> - <p> - “Why do you sing the Dirge of Tuathal on this evening, Murrough?” he asked - in his native tongue, as he came beside the old man. - </p> - <p> - “What else is there left for me to sing at this time, Standish O'Dermot - Macnamara, son of the Prince of Islands and all Munster?” said the bard. - “There is nothing of joy left us now. We cannot sing except in sorrow. - Does not the land seem to have sympathy with such songs, prolonging their - sound by its own voice from every glen and mountain-face?” - </p> - <p> - “It is true,” said Standish. “As I sat up among the cliffs of heather it - seemed to me that the melody was made by the spirits of the glen bewailing - in the twilight the departure of the glory of our land.” - </p> - <p> - “See how desolate is all around us here,” said the bard. “Glenmara is - lonely now, where it was wont to be gay with song and laughter; when the - nobles thronged the valley with hawk and hound, the voice of the bugle and - the melody of a hundred harps were heard stirring up the echoes in - delight.” - </p> - <p> - “But now all are gone; they can only be recalled in vain dreams,” said the - second in this duet of Celtic mourners—the younger Marius among the - ruins. - </p> - <p> - “The sons of Erin have left her in her loneliness while the world is - stirred with their brave actions,” continued the ancient bard. - </p> - <p> - “True,” cried Standish; “outside is the world that needs Irish hands and - hearts to make it better worth living in.” The young man was so - enthusiastic in the utterance of his part in the dialogue as to cause the - bard to look suddenly up. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, the hands and the hearts of the Irish have done much,” he said. “Let - the men go out into the world for a while, but let our daughters be spared - to us.” - </p> - <p> - Standish gave a little start and looked inquiringly into the face of the - bard. - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean, Murrough?” he asked slowly. - </p> - <p> - The bard leant forward as if straining to catch some distant sound. - </p> - <p> - “Listen to it, listen to it,” he said. There was a pause, and through the - silence the moan of the far-off ocean was borne along the dim glen. - </p> - <p> - “It is the sound of the Atlantic,” said Standish. “The breeze from the - west carries it to us up from the lough.” - </p> - <p> - “Listen to it and think that she is out on that far ocean,” said the old - man. “Listen to it, and think that Daireen, daughter of the Geralds, has - left her Irish home and is now tossing upon that ocean; gone is she, the - bright bird of the South—gone from those her smile lightened!” - </p> - <p> - Standish neither started nor uttered a word when the old man had spoken; - but he felt his feet give way under him. He sat down upon a crag and laid - his head upon his hand staring into the black tarn. He could not - comprehend at first the force of the words “She is gone.” He had thought - of his own departure, but the possibility of Daireen's had not occurred to - him. The meaning of the bard's lament was now apparent to him, and even - now the melody seemed to be given back by the rocks that had heard it: - </p> - <p> - Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy? - </p> - <p> - The words moaned through the dim air with the sound of the distant waters - for accompaniment. - </p> - <p> - “Gone—gone—Daireen,” he whispered. “And you only tell me of it - now,” he added almost fiercely to the old man, for he reflected upon the - time he had wasted in that duet of lamentation over the ruins of his - country. What a wretchedly trivial thing he felt was the condition of the - country compared with such an event as the departure of Daireen Gerald. - </p> - <p> - “It is only since morning that she is gone,” said the bard. “It was only - in the morning that the letter arrived to tell her that her father was - lying in a fever at some place where the vessel called on the way home. - And now she is gone from us, perhaps for ever.” - </p> - <p> - “Murrough,” said the young man, laying his hand upon the other's arm, and - speaking in a hoarse whisper. “Tell me all about her. Why did they allow - her to go? Where is she gone? Not out to where her father was landed?” - </p> - <p> - “Why not there?” cried the old man, raising his head proudly. “Did a - Gerald ever shrink from duty when the hour came? Brave girl she is, worthy - to be a Gerald!” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me all—all.” - </p> - <p> - “What more is there to tell than what is bound up in those three words - 'She is gone'?” said the man. “The letter came to her grandfather and she - saw him read it—I was in the hall—she saw his hand tremble. - She stood up there beside him and asked him what was in the letter; he - looked into her face and put the letter in her hand. I saw her face grow - pale as she read it. Then she sat down for a minute, but no word or cry - came from her until she looked up to the old man's face; then she clasped - her hands and said only, 'I will go to him.' The old people talked to her - of the distance, of the danger; they told her how she would be alone for - days and nights among strangers; but she only repeated, 'I will go to - him.' And now she is gone—gone alone over those waters.” - </p> - <p> - “Alone!” Standish repeated. “Gone away alone, no friend near her, none to - utter a word of comfort in her ears!” He buried his face in his hands as - he pictured the girl whom he had loved silently, but with all his soul, - since she had come to her home in Ireland from India where she had lived - with her father since the death of his wife ten years ago. He pictured her - sitting in her loneliness aboard the ship that was bearing her away to, - perhaps, the land of her father's grave, and he felt that now at last all - the bitterness that could be crowded upon his life had fallen on him. He - gazed into the black tarn, and saw within its depths a star glittering as - it glittered in the sky above, but it did not relieve his thoughts with - any touch of its gold. - </p> - <p> - He rose after a while and gave his hand to Murrough. - </p> - <p> - “Thank you,” he said. “You have told me all better than any one else could - have done. But did she not speak of me, Murrough—only once perhaps? - Did she not send me one little word of farewell?” - </p> - <p> - “She gave me this for you,” said the old bard, producing a letter which - Standish clutched almost wildly. - </p> - <p> - “Thank God, thank God!” he cried, hurrying away without another word. But - after him swept the sound of the bard's lament which he commenced anew, - with that query: - </p> - <p> - Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy? - </p> - <p> - It was not yet too dark outside the glen for Standish to read the letter - which he had just received; and so soon as he found himself in sight of - the sea he tore open the cover and read the few lines Daireen Gerald had - written, with a tremulous hand, to say farewell to him. - </p> - <p> - “My father has been left ill with fever at the Cape, and I know that he - will recover only if I go to him. I am going away to-day, for the steamer - will leave Southampton in four days, and I cannot be there in time unless - I start at once. I thought you would not like me to go without saying - good-bye, and God bless you, dear Standish.” - </p> - <p> - “You will say good-bye to The Macnamara for me. I thought poor papa would - be here to give you the advice you want. Pray to God that I may be in time - to see him.” - </p> - <p> - He read the lines by the gray light reflected from the sea—he read - them until his eyes were dim. - </p> - <p> - “Brave, glorious girl!” he cried. “But to think of her—alone—alone - out there, while I—— oh, what a poor weak fool I am! Here am I—here, - looking out to the sea she is gone to battle with! Oh, God! oh, God! I - must do something for her—I must—but what—what?” - </p> - <p> - He cast himself down upon the heather that crawled from the slopes even to - the road, and there he lay with his head buried in agony at the thought of - his own impotence; while through the dark glen floated the wild, weird - strain of the lament: - </p> - <p> - “Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy?” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - Hamlet. How chances it they travel? their residence, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - both in reputation and profit, was better both ways. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Rosencrantz. I think their inhibition comes by the means - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - of the late innovation. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Many, wearing rapiers, are afraid of goose-quills. - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - What imports the nomination of this gentleman? - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - Hamlet. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>WAY from the glens - and the heather-clad mountains, from the blue loughs and their islands of - arbutus, from the harp-music, and from the ocean-music which makes those - who hear it ripe for revolt; away from the land whose life is the memory - of ancient deeds of nobleness; away from the land that has given birth to - more heroes than any nation in the world, the land whose inhabitants live - in thousands in squalor and look out from mud windows upon the most - glorious scenery in the world; away from all these one must now be borne. - </p> - <p> - Upon the evening of the fourth day after the chanting of that lament by - the bard O'Brian from the depths of Glenmara, the good steamship <i>Cardwell - Castle</i> was making its way down Channel with a full cargo and heavy - mails for Madeira, St. Helena, and the Cape. It had left its port but a - few hours and already the coast had become dim with distance. The red - shoreway of the south-west was now so far away that the level rays of - sunlight which swept across the water were not seen to shine upon the - faces of the rocks, or to show where the green fields joined the brown - moorland; the windmills crowning every height were not seen to be in - motion. - </p> - <p> - The passengers were for the most part very cheerful, as passengers - generally are during the first couple of hours of a voyage, when only the - gentle ripples of the Channel lap the sides of the vessel. The old - voyagers, who had thought it prudent to dine off a piece of sea-biscuit - and a glass of brandy and water, while they watched with grim smiles the - novices trifling with roast pork and apricot-dumplings, were now sitting - in seats they had arranged for themselves in such places as they knew - would be well to leeward for the greater part of the voyage, and here they - smoked their cigars and read their newspapers just as they would be doing - every day for three weeks. To them the phenomenon of the lessening land - was not particularly interesting. The novices were endeavouring to look as - if they had been used to knock about the sea all their lives; they carried - their telescopes under their arms quite jauntily, and gave critical - glances aloft every now and again, consulting their pocket compasses - gravely at regular intervals to convince themselves that they were not - being trifled with in the navigation of the vessel. - </p> - <p> - Then there were, of course, those who had come aboard with the - determination of learning in three weeks as much seamanship as should - enable them to accept any post of marine responsibility that they might be - called upon to fill in after life. They handled the loose tackle with a - view of determining its exact utility, and endeavoured to trace stray - lines to their source. They placed the captain entirely at his ease with - them by asking him a number of questions regarding the dangers of - boiler-bursting, and the perils of storms; they begged that he would let - them know if there was any truth in the report which had reached them to - the effect that the Atlantic was a very stormy place; and they left him - with the entreaty that in case of any danger arising suddenly he would at - once communicate with them; they then went down to put a few casual - questions to the quartermaster who was at the wheel, and doubtless felt - that they were making most of the people about them cheerful with their - converse. - </p> - <p> - Then there were the young ladies who had just completed their education in - England and were now on their way to join their relations abroad. Having - read in the course of their studies of English literature the poems of the - late Samuel Rogers, they were much amazed to find that the mariners were - not leaning over the ship's bulwarks sighing to behold the sinking of - their native land, and that not an individual had climbed the mast to - partake of the ocular banquet with indulging in which the poet has - accredited the sailor. Towards this section the glances of several male - eyes were turned, for most of the young men had roved sufficiently far to - become aware of the fact that the relief of the monotony of a lengthened - voyage is principally dependent on—well, on the relieving capacities - of the young ladies, lately sundered from school and just commencing their - education in the world. - </p> - <p> - But far away from the groups that hung about the stern stood a girl - looking over the side of the ship towards the west—towards the sun - that was almost touching the horizon. She heard the laughter of the groups - of girls and the silly questions of the uninformed, but all sounded to her - like the strange voices of a dream; for as she gazed towards the west she - seemed to see a fair landscape of purple slopes and green woods; the dash - of the ripples against the ship's side came to her as the rustle of the - breaking ripples amongst the shells of a blue lough upon whose surface a - number of green islets raised their heads. She saw them all—every - islet, with its moveless I shadow beneath it, and the light touching the - edges of the leaves with red. Daireen Gerald it was who stood there - looking out to the sunset, but seeing in the golden lands of the west the - Irish land she knew so well. - </p> - <p> - She remained motionless, with her eyes far away and her heart still - farther, until the red sun had disappeared, and the delicate twilight - change was slipping over the bright gray water. With every change she - seemed to see the shifting of the hues over the heather of Slieve Docas - and the pulsating of the tremulous red light through the foliage of the - deer ground. It was only now that the tears forced themselves into her - eyes, for she had not wept at parting from her grandfather, who had gone - with her from Ireland and had left her aboard the steamer a few hours - before; and while her tears made everything misty to her, the light - laughter of the groups scattered about the quarter-deck sounded in her - ears. It did not come harshly to her, for it seemed to come from a world - in which she had no part. The things about her were as the things of a - dream. The reality in which she was living was that which she saw out in - the west. - </p> - <p> - “Come, my dear,” said a voice behind her—“Come and walk with me on - the deck. I fancied I had lost you, and you may guess what a state I was - in, after all the promises I made to Mr. Gerald.” - </p> - <p> - “I was just looking out there, and wondering what they were all doing at - home—at the foot of the dear old mountain,” said Daireen, allowing - herself to be led away. - </p> - <p> - “That is what most people would call moping, dear,” said the lady who had - come up. She was a middle-aged lady with a pleasant face, though her - figure was hardly what a scrupulous painter would choose as a model for a - Nausicaa. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps I was moping, Mrs. Crawford,” Daireen replied; “but I feel the - better for it now.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear, I don't disapprove of moping now and again, though as a habit it - should not be encouraged. I was down in my cabin, and when I came on deck - I couldn't understand where you had disappeared to. I asked the major, but - of course, you know, he was quite oblivious to everything but the mutiny - at Cawnpore, through being beside Doctor Campion.” - </p> - <p> - “But you have found me, you see, Mrs. Crawford.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, thanks to Mr. Glaston; he knew where you had gone; he had been - watching you.” Daireen felt her face turning red as she thought of this - Mr. Glaston, whoever he was, with his eyes fixed upon her movements. “You - don't know Mr. Glaston, Daireen?—I shall call you 'Daireen' of - course, though we have only known each other a couple of hours,” continued - the lady. “No, of course you don't. Never mind, I'll show him to you.” For - the promise of this treat Daireen did not express her gratitude. She had - come to think the most unfavourable things regarding this Mr. Glaston. - Mrs. Crawford, however, did not seem to expect an acknowledgment. Her chat - ran on as briskly as ever. “I shall point him out to you, but on no - account look near him for some time—young men are so conceited, you - know.” - </p> - <p> - Daireen had heard this peculiarity ascribed to the race before, and so - when her guide, as they walked towards the stern of the vessel, indicated - to her that a young man sitting in a deck-chair smoking a cigar was Mr. - Glaston, she certainly did not do anything that might possibly increase in - Mr. Glaston this dangerous tendency which Mrs. Crawford had assigned to - young men generally. - </p> - <p> - “What do you think of him, my dear?” asked Mrs. Crawford, when they had - strolled up the deck once more. - </p> - <p> - “Of whom?” inquired Daireen. - </p> - <p> - “Good gracious,” cried the lady, “are your thoughts still straying? Why, I - mean Mr. Glaston, to be sure. What do you think of him?” - </p> - <p> - “I didn't look at him,” the girl answered. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford searched the fair face beside her to find out if its - expression agreed with her words, and the scrutiny being satisfactory she - gave a little laugh. “How do you ever mean to know what he is like if you - don't look at him?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - Daireen did not stop to explain how she thought it possible that - contentment might exist aboard the steamer even though she remained in - ignorance for ever of Mr. Glaston's qualities; but presently she glanced - along the deck, and saw sitting at graceful ease upon the chair Mrs. - Crawford had indicated, a tall man of apparently a year or two under - thirty. He had black hair which he had allowed to grow long behind, and a - black moustache which gave every indication of having been subjected to - the most careful youthful training. His face would not have been thought - expressive but for his eyes, and the expression that these organs gave out - could hardly be called anything except a neutral one: they indicated - nothing except that nothing was meant to be indicated by them. No - suggestion of passion, feeling, or even thoughtfulness, did they give; and - in fact the only possible result of looking at this face which some people - called expressive, was a feeling that the man himself was calmly conscious - of the fact that some people were in the habit of calling his face - expressive. - </p> - <p> - “And what <i>do</i> you think of him now, my dear?” asked Mrs. Crawford, - after Daireen had gratified her by taking that look. - </p> - <p> - “I really don't think that I think anything,” she answered with a little - laugh. - </p> - <p> - “That is the beauty of his face,” cried Mrs. Crawford. “It sets one - thinking.” - </p> - <p> - “But that is not what I said, Mrs. Crawford.” - </p> - <p> - “You said you did not think you were thinking anything, Daireen; and that - meant, I know, that there was more in his face than you could read at a - first glance. Never mind; every one is set thinking when one sees Mr. - Glaston.” - </p> - <p> - Daireen had almost become interested in this Mr. Glaston, even though she - could not forget that he had watched her when she did not want to be - watched. She gave another glance towards him, but with no more profitable - conclusion than her previous look had attained. - </p> - <p> - “I will tell you all about him, my child,” said Mrs. Crawford - confidentially; “but first let us make ourselves comfortable. Dear old - England, there is the last of it for us for some time. Adieu, adieu, dear - old country!” There was not much sentimentality in the stout little lady's - tone, as she looked towards the faint line of mist far astern that marked - the English coast. She sat down with Daireen to the leeward of the - deck-house where she had laid her rugs, and until the tea-bell rang - Daireen had certainly no opportunity for moping. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford told her that this Mr. Glaston was a young man of such - immense capacities that nothing lay outside his grasp either in art or - science. He had not thought it necessary to devote his attention to any - subject in particular; but that, Mrs. Crawford thought, was rather because - there existed no single subject that he considered worthy of an - expenditure of all his energies. As things unfortunately existed, there - was nothing left for him but to get rid of the unbounded resources of his - mind by applying them to a variety of subjects. He had, in fact, written - poetry—never an entire volume of course, but exceedingly clever - pieces that had been published in his college magazine. He was capable of - painting a great picture if he chose, though he had contented himself with - giving ideas to other men who had worked them out through the medium of - pictures. He was one of the most accomplished of musicians; and if he had - not yet produced an opera or composed even a song, instances were on - record of his having performed impromptus that would undoubtedly have made - the fame of a professor. He was the son of a Colonial Bishop, Mrs. - Crawford told Daireen, and though he lived in England he was still dutiful - enough to go out to pay a month's visit to his father every year. - </p> - <p> - “But we must not make him conceited, Daireen,” said Mrs. Crawford, ending - her discourse; “we must not, dear; and if he should look over and see us - together this way, he would conclude that we were talking of him.” - </p> - <p> - Daireen rose with her instructive companion with an uneasy sense of - feeling that all they could by their combined efforts contribute to the - conceit of a young man who would, upon grounds so slight, come to such a - conclusion as Mrs. Crawford feared he might, would be but trifling. - </p> - <p> - Then the tea-bell rang, and all the novices who had enjoyed the roast pork - and dumplings at dinner, descended to make a hearty meal of buttered toast - and banana jelly. The sea air had given them an appetite, they declared - with much merriment. The chief steward, however, being an experienced man, - and knowing that in a few hours the Bay of Biscay would be entered, did - not, from observing the hearty manner in which the novices were eating, - feel uneasy on the matter of the endurance of the ship's stores. He knew - it would be their last meal for some days at least, and he smiled grimly - as he laid down another plate of buttered toast, and hastened off to send - up some more brandy and biscuits to Major Crawford and Doctor Campion, - whose hoarse chuckles called forth by pleasing reminiscences of Cawnpore - were dimly heard from the deck through the cabin skylight. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - An hour of quiet shortly shall we see; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Till then in patience our proceeding be. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - We'll put on those shall praise your excellence - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And set a double varnish on the fame - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine together. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - ... I know love is begun by time. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - I know him well: he is the brooch indeed - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And gem of all the nation. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - He made confession of you, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And gave you such a masterly report - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - For art...'twould be a sight indeed - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - If one could match you. - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - —Hamlet. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>RS. Crawford - absolutely clung to Daireen all this evening. When the whist parties were - formed in the cabin she brought the girl on deck and instructed her in - some of the matters worth knowing aboard a passenger ship. - </p> - <p> - “On no account bind yourself to any whist set before you look about you: - nothing could be more dangerous,” she said confidentially. “Just think how - terrible it would be if you were to join a set now, and afterwards to find - out that it was not the best set. You would simply be ruined. Besides - that, it is better to stay on deck as much as possible during the first - day or two at sea. Now let us go over to the major and Campion.” - </p> - <p> - So Daireen found herself borne onward with Mrs. Crawford's arm in her own - to where Major Crawford and Doctor Campion were sitting on their battered - deck-chairs lighting fresh cheroots from the ashes of the expiring ends. - </p> - <p> - “Don't tread on the tumblers, my dear,” said the major as his wife - advanced. “And how is Miss Gerald now that we have got under weigh? You - didn't take any of that liquid they insult the Chinese Empire by calling - tea, aboard ship, I hope?” - </p> - <p> - “Just a single cup, and very weak,” said Mrs. Crawford apologetically. - </p> - <p> - “My dear, I thought you were wiser.” - </p> - <p> - “You will take this chair, Mrs. Crawford?” said Doctor Campion, without - making the least pretence of moving, however. - </p> - <p> - “Don't think of such a thing,” cried the lady's husband; and to do Doctor - Campion justice, he did not think of such a thing. “Why, you don't fancy - these are our Junkapore days, do you, when Kate came out to our bungalow, - and the boys called her the Sylph? It's a fact, Miss Gerald; my wife, as - your father will tell you, was as slim as a lily. Ah, dear, dear! Time, - they say, takes a lot away from us, but by Jingo, he's liberal enough in - some ways. By Jingo, yes,” and the gallant old man kept shaking his head - and chuckling towards his comrade, whose features could be seen puckered - into a grin though he uttered no sound. - </p> - <p> - “And stranger still, Miss Gerald,” said the lady, “the major was once - looked upon as a polite man, and politer to his wife than to anybody else. - Go and fetch some chairs here, Campion, like a good fellow,” she added to - the doctor, who rose slowly and obeyed. - </p> - <p> - “That's how my wife takes command of the entire battalion, Miss Gerald,” - remarked the major. “Oh, your father will tell you all about her.” - </p> - <p> - The constant reference to her father by one who was an old friend, came - with a cheering influence to the girl. A terrible question as to what - might be the result of her arrival at the Cape had suggested itself to her - more than once since she had left Ireland; but now the major did not seem - to fancy that there could be any question in the matter. - </p> - <p> - When the chairs were brought, and enveloped in karosses, as the old - campaigners called the furs, there arose a chatter of bungalows, and - punkahs, and puggarees, and calapashes, and curries, that was quite - delightful to the girl's ears, especially as from time to time her - father's name would be mentioned in connection with some elephant-trapping - expedition, or, perhaps, a mess joke. - </p> - <p> - When at last Daireen found herself alone in the cabin which her - grandfather had managed to secure for her, she did not feel that - loneliness which she thought she should have felt aboard this ship full of - strangers without sympathy for her. - </p> - <p> - She stood for a short time in the darkness, looking out of her cabin port - over the long waters, and listening to the sound of the waves hurrying - away from the ship and flapping against its sides, and once more she - thought of the purple mountain and the green Irish Lough. Then as she - moved away from the port her thoughts stretched in another direction—southward. - Her heart was full of hope as she turned in to her bunk and went quietly - asleep just as the first waves of the Bay of Biscay were making the good - steamer a little uneasy, and bringing about a bitter remorse to those who - had made merry over the dumplings and buttered toast. - </p> - <p> - Major Crawford was an officer who had served for a good many years in - India, and had there become acquainted with Daireen's father and mother. - When Mr. Gerald was holding his grandchild in his arms aboard the steamer - saying good-bye, he was surprised by a strange lady coming up to him and - begging to be informed if it was possible that Daireen was the daughter of - Colonel Gerald. In another instant Mr. Gerald was overjoyed to know that - Daireen would be during the entire voyage in the company of an officer and - his wife who were old friends of her father, and had recognised her from - her likeness to her mother, whom they had also known when she was little - older than Daireen. Mr. Gerald left the vessel with a mind at rest; and - that his belief that the girl would be looked after was well-founded is - already known. Daireen was, indeed, in the hands of a lady who was noted - in many parts of the world for her capacities for taking charge of young - ladies. When she was in India her position at the station was very - similiar to that of immigration-agent-general. Fond matrons in England, - who had brought their daughters year after year to Homburg, Kissingen, and - Nice, in the “open” season, and had yet brought them back in safety—matrons - who had even sunk to the low level of hydropathic hunting-grounds without - success, were accustomed to write pathetic letters to Junkapore and - Arradambad conveying to Mrs. Crawford intelligence of the strange fancy - that some of the dear girls had conceived to visit those parts of the - Indian Empire, and begging Mrs. Crawford to give her valuable advice with - regard to the carrying out of such remarkable freaks. Never in any of - these cases had the major's wife failed. These forlorn hopes took passage - to India and found in her a real friend, with tact, perseverance, and - experience. The subalterns of the station were never allowed to mope in a - wretched, companionless condition; and thus Mrs. Crawford had achieved for - herself a certain fame, which it was her study to maintain. Having herself - had men-children only, she had no personal interests to look after. Her - boys had been swaddled in puggarees, spoon-fed with curry, and nurtured - upon chutney, and had so developed into full-grown Indians ready for the - choicest appointments, and they had succeeded very well indeed. Her - husband had now received a command from the War Office to proceed to the - Cape for the purpose of obtaining evidence on the subject of the - regulation boots to be supplied to troops on active foreign service; a - commission upon this most important subject having been ordered by a - Parliamentary vote. Other officers of experience had been sent to various - of the colonies, and much was expected to result from the prosecution of - their inquiries, the opponents of the Government being confident that - gussets would eventually be allowed to non-commissioned officers, and back - straps to privates. - </p> - <p> - Of course Major Crawford could not set out on a mission so important - without the companionship of his wife. Though just at the instant of - Daireen's turning in, the major fancied he might have managed to get along - pretty well even if his partner had been left behind him in England. He - was inclined to snarl in his cabin at nights when his wife unfolded her - plans to him and kept him awake to give his opinion as to the possibility - of the tastes of various young persons becoming assimilated. To-night the - major expressed his indifference as to whether every single man in the - ship's company got married to every single woman before the end of the - voyage, or whether they all went to perdition singly. He concluded by - wishing fervently that they would disappear, married and single, by a - supernatural agency. - </p> - <p> - “But think, how gratified poor Gerald would be if the dear girl could - think as I do on this subject,” said Mrs. Crawford persistently, alluding - to the matter of certain amalgamation of tastes. At this point, however, - the major expressed himself in words still more vigorous than he had - brought to his aid before, and his wife thought it prudent to get into her - bunk without pursuing any further the question of the possible - gratification of Colonel Gerald at the unanimity of thought existing - between his daughter and Mrs. Crawford. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - How dangerous is it that this man goes loose... - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - He's loved of the distracted multitude, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Who like not in their judgment but their eyes: - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And where 'tis so the offender's scourge is weigh'd, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - But never the offence. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Look here upon this picture, and on this. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Thus has he—and many more of the same breed that I know the drossy - age dotes on—only got the tune of the time... a kind of yesty - collection which carries them through and through the most fond and - winnowed opinions; and do but blow them to their trial, the bubbles are - out.—<i>Hamlet</i>. - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE uneasy bosom of - the Bay of Biscay was throbbing with its customary emotion beneath the - good vessel, when Daireen awoke the next morning to the sound of creaking - timbers and rioting glasses. Above her on the deck the tramp of a healthy - passenger, who wore a pedometer and walked three miles every morning - before breakfast, was heard, now dilating and now decreasing, as he passed - over the cabins. He had almost completed his second mile, and was putting - on a spurt in order to keep himself up to time; his spurt at the end of - the first mile had effectually awakened all the passengers beneath, who - had yet remained undisturbed through the earlier part of his tramp. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford, looking bright and fresh and good-natured, entered - Daireen's cabin before the girl was ready to leave it. She certainly - seemed determined that the confidence Mr. Gerald had reposed in her with - regard to the care of his granddaughter should not prove to have been - misplaced. - </p> - <p> - “I am not going in, my dear,” she said as she entered the cabin. “I only - stepped round to see that you were all right this morning. I knew you - would be so, though Robinson the steward tells me that even the little sea - there is on in the bay has been quite sufficient to make about a dozen - vacancies at the breakfast-table. People are such fools when they come - aboard a ship—eating boiled paste and all sorts of things, and so - the sea is grossly misrepresented. Did that dreadfully healthy Mr. - Thompson awake you with his tramping on deck? Of course he did; he's a - dreadful man. If he goes on like this we'll have to petition the captain - to lay down bark on the deck. Now I'll leave you. Come aloft when you are - ready; and, by the way, you must take care what dress you put on—very - great care.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, I thought that aboard ship one might wear anything,” said the girl. - </p> - <p> - “Never was there a greater mistake, my child. People say the same about - going to the seaside: anything will do; but you know how one requires to - be doubly particular there; and it's just the same in our little world - aboard ship.” - </p> - <p> - “You quite frighten me, Mrs. Crawford,” said Daireen. “What advice can you - give me on the subject?” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford was thoughtful. “If you had only had time to prepare for the - voyage, and I had been beside you, everything might have been different. - You must not wear anything pronounced—any distinct colour: you must - find out something undecided—you understand?” - </p> - <p> - Daireen looked puzzled. “I'm sorry to say I don't.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you have surely something of pale sage—no, that is a bad tone - for the first days aboard—too like the complexions of most of the - passengers—but, chocolate-gray? ah, that should do: have you - anything in that to do for a morning dress?” - </p> - <p> - Daireen was so extremely fortunate as to be possessed of a garment of the - required tone, and her kind friend left her arraying herself in its folds. - </p> - <p> - On going aloft Daireen found the deck occupied by a select few of the - passengers. The healthy gentleman was just increasing his pace for the - final hundred yards of his morning's walk, and Doctor Campion had got very - near the end of his second cheroot, while he sat talking to a fair-haired - and bronze-visaged man with clear gray eyes that had such a way of looking - at things as caused people to fancy he was making a mental calculation of - the cubic measure of everything; and it was probably the recollection of - their peculiarity that made people fancy, when these eyes looked into a - human face, that the mind of the man was going through a similar - calculation with reference to the human object: one could not avoid - feeling that he had a number of formulas for calculating the intellectual - value of people, and that when he looked at a person he was thinking which - formula should be employed for arriving at a conclusion regarding that - person's mental capacity. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford was chatting with the doctor and his companion, but on - Daireen's appearing, she went over to her. - </p> - <p> - “Perfect, my child,” she said in a whisper—“the tone of the dress, I - mean; it will work wonders.” - </p> - <p> - While Daireen was reflecting upon the possibility of a suspension of the - laws of nature being the result of the appearance of the chocolate-toned - dress, she was led towards the doctor, who immediately went through a - fiction of rising from his seat as she approached; and one would really - have fancied that he intended getting upon his feet, and was only - restrained at the last moment by a remonstrance of the girl's. Daireen - acknowledged his courtesy, though it was only imaginary, and she was - conscious that his companion had really risen. - </p> - <p> - “You haven't made the acquaintance of Miss Gerald, Mr. Harwood?” said Mrs. - Crawford. - </p> - <p> - “I have not had the honour,” said the man. - </p> - <p> - “Let me present you, Daireen. Mr. Harwood—Miss Gerald. Now take - great care what you say to this gentleman, Daireen; he is a dangerous man—the - most dangerous that any one could meet. He is a detective, dear, and the - worst of all—a literary detective; the 'special' of the <i>Domnant - Trumpeter</i>.” - </p> - <p> - Daireen had looked into the man's face while she was being presented to - him, and she knew it was the face of a man who had seen the people of more - than one nation. - </p> - <p> - “This is not your first voyage, Miss Gerald, or you would not be on deck - so early?” he said. - </p> - <p> - “It certainly is not,” she replied. “I was born in India, so that my first - voyage was to England; then I have crossed the Irish Channel frequently, - going to school and returning for the holidays; and I have also had some - long voyages on Lough Suangorm,” she added with a little smile, for she - did not think that her companion would be likely to have heard of the - existence of the Irish fjord. - </p> - <p> - “Suangorm? then you have had some of the most picturesque voyages one can - make in the course of a day in this world,” he said. “Lough Suangorm is - the most wonderful fjord in the world, let me tell you.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you know it,” she cried with a good deal of surprise. “You must know - the dear old lough or you would not talk so.” She did not seem to think - that his assertion should imply that he had seen a good many other fjords - also. - </p> - <p> - “I think I may say I know it. Yes, from those fine headlands that the - Atlantic beats against, to where the purple slope of that great hill meets - the little road.” - </p> - <p> - “You know the hill—old Slieve Docas? How strange! I live just at the - foot.” - </p> - <p> - “I have a sketch of a mansion, taken just there,” he said, laughing. “It - is of a dark brown exterior.” - </p> - <p> - “Exactly.” - </p> - <p> - “It looks towards the sea.” - </p> - <p> - “It does indeed.” - </p> - <p> - “It is exceedingly picturesque.” - </p> - <p> - “Picturesque?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, yes; the house I allude to is very much so. If I recollect aright, - the one window of the wall was not glazed, and the smoke certainly found - its way out through a hole in the roof.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that is too bad,” said Daireen. “I had no idea that the peculiarities - of my country people would be known so far away. Please don't say anything - about that sketch to the passengers aboard.” - </p> - <p> - “I shall never be tempted to allude, even by the 'pronouncing of some - doubtful phrase,' to the—the—peculiarities of your country - people, Miss Gerald,” he answered. “It is a lovely country, and contains - the most hospitable people in the world; but their talent does not develop - itself architecturally. Ah! there is the second bell. I hope you have an - appetite.” - </p> - <p> - “Have you been guarded enough in your conversation, Daireen?” said Mrs. - Crawford, coming up with the doctor, whose rising at the summons of the - breakfast-bell was by no means a fiction. - </p> - <p> - “The secrets of the Home Rule Confederation are safe in the keeping of - Miss Gerald,” said Mr. Harwood, with a smile which any one could see was - simply the result of his satisfaction at having produced a well-turned - sentence. - </p> - <p> - The breakfast-table was very thinly attended, more so even than Robinson - the steward had anticipated when on the previous evening he had laid down - that second plate of buttered toast before the novices. - </p> - <p> - Of the young ladies only three appeared at the table, and their - complexions were of the softest amber shade that was ever worked in satin - in the upholstery of mock-mediæval furniture. Major Crawford had just come - out of the steward's pantry, and he greeted Daireen with all courtesy, as - indeed he did the other young ladies at the table, for the major was - gallant and gay aboard ship. - </p> - <p> - After every one had been seated for about ten minutes, the curtain that - screened off one of the cabin entrances from the saloon was moved aside, - and the figure of the young man to whom Mrs. Crawford had alluded as Mr. - Glaston appeared. He came slowly forward, nodding to the captain and - saying good-morning to Mrs. Crawford, while he elevated his eyebrows in - recognition of Mr. Harwood, taking his seat at the table. - </p> - <p> - “You can't have an appetite coming directly out of your bunk,” said the - doctor. - </p> - <p> - “Indeed?” said Mr. Glaston, without the least expression. - </p> - <p> - “Quite impossible,” said the doctor. “You should have been up an hour ago - at least. Here is Mr. Thompson, who has walked more than three miles in - the open air.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah,” said the other, never moving his eyes to see the modest smile that - spread itself over the features of the exemplary Mr. Thompson. “Ah, I - heard some one who seemed to be going in for that irrepressible thousand - miles in a thousand hours. Yes, bring me a pear and a grape.” The last - sentence he addressed to the waiter, who, having been drilled by the - steward on the subject of Mr. Glaston's tastes, did not show any - astonishment at being asked for fruit instead of fish, but hastened off to - procure the grape and the pear. - </p> - <p> - While Mr. Glaston was waiting he glanced across the table, and gave a - visible start as his eyes rested upon one of the young ladies—a - pleasant-looking girl wearing a pink dress and having a blue ribbon in her - hair. Mr. Glaston gave a little shudder, and then turned away. - </p> - <p> - “That face—ah, where have I beheld it?” muttered Mr. Harwood to the - doctor. - </p> - <p> - “Dam puppy!” said the doctor. - </p> - <p> - Then the plate and fruit were laid before Mr. Glaston, who said quickly, - “Take them away.” The bewildered waiter looked towards his chief and - obeyed, so that Mr. Glaston remained with an empty plate. Robinson became - uneasy. - </p> - <p> - “Can I get you anything, sir?—we have three peaches aboard and a - pine-apple,” he murmured. - </p> - <p> - “Can't touch anything now, Robinson,” Mr. Glaston answered. - </p> - <p> - “The doctor is right,” said Mrs. Crawford. “You have no appetite, Mr. - Glaston.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” he replied; “not <i>now</i>,” and he gave the least glance towards - the girl in pink, who began to feel that all her school dreams of going - forth into the world of men to conquer and overcome were being realised - beyond her wildest anticipations. - </p> - <p> - Then there was a pause at the table, which the good major broke by - suddenly inquiring something of the captain. Mr. Glaston, however, sat - silent, and somewhat sad apparently, until the breakfast was over. - </p> - <p> - Daireen went into her cabin for a book, and remained arranging some - volumes on the little shelf for a few minutes. Mr. Glaston was on deck - when she ascended, and he was engaged in a very serious conversation with - Mrs. Crawford. - </p> - <p> - “Something must be done. Surely she has a guardian aboard who is not so - utterly lost to everything of truth and right as to allow that to go on - unchecked.” - </p> - <p> - These words Daireen could make out as she passed the young man and the - major's wife, and the girl began to fear that something terrible was about - to happen. But Mr. Harwood, who was standing above the major's chair, - hastened forward as she appeared. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Major Crawford has been telling me that your father is Colonel - Gerald,” he said. “Mrs. Crawford never mentioned that fact, thinking that - I should be able to guess it for myself.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you know papa?” Daireen asked. - </p> - <p> - “I met him several times when I was out about the Baroda affair,” said the - “special.” - </p> - <p> - “And as you are his daughter, I suppose it will interest you to know that - he has been selected as the first governor of the Castaways.” - </p> - <p> - Daireen looked puzzled. “The Castaways?” she said. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Miss Gerald; the lovely Castaway Islands which, you know, have just - been annexed by England. Colonel Gerald has been chosen by the Colonial - Secretary as the first governor.” - </p> - <p> - “But I heard nothing of this,” said Daireen, a little astonished to - receive such information in the Bay of Biscay. - </p> - <p> - “How could you hear anything of it? No one outside the Cabinet has the - least idea of it.” - </p> - <p> - “And you——” said the girl doubtfully. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, my dear Miss Gerald, the resources of information possessed by the <i>Dominant - Trumpeter</i> are as unlimited as they are trustworthy. You may depend - upon what I tell you. It is not generally known that I am now bound for - the Castaway group, to make the British public aware of the extent of the - treasure they have acquired in these sunny isles. But I understood that - Colonel Gerald was on his way from Madras?” - </p> - <p> - Daireen explained how her father came to be at the Cape, and Mr. Harwood - gave her a few cheering words regarding his sickness. She was greatly - disappointed when their conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Crawford. - </p> - <p> - “The poor fellow!” she said—“Mr. Glaston, I mean. I have induced him - to go down and eat some grapes and a pear.” - </p> - <p> - “Why couldn't he take them at breakfast and not betray his idiocy?” said - Mr. Harwood. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Harwood, you have no sympathy for sufferers from sensitiveness,” - replied the lady. “Poor Mr. Glaston! he had an excellent appetite, but he - found it impossible to touch anything the instant he saw that fearful pink - dress with the blue ribbon hanging over it.” - </p> - <p> - “Poor fellow!” said Mr. Harwood. - </p> - <p> - “Dam puppy!” said the doctor. - </p> - <p> - “Campion!” cried Mrs. Crawford severely. - </p> - <p> - “A thousand pardons! my dear Miss Gerald,” said the transgressor. “But - what can a man say when he hears of such puppyism? This is my third voyage - with that young man, and he has been developing into the full-grown puppy - with the greatest rapidity.” - </p> - <p> - “You have no fine feeling, Campion,” said Mrs. Crawford. “You have got no - sympathy for those who are artistically sensitive. But hush! here is the - offending person herself, and with such a hat! Now admit that to look at - her sends a cold shudder through you.” - </p> - <p> - “I think her a devilish pretty little thing, by gad,” said the doctor. - </p> - <p> - The young lady with the pink dress and the blue ribbon appeared, wearing - the additional horror of a hat lined with yellow and encircled with mighty - flowers. - </p> - <p> - “Something must be done to suppress her,” said Mrs. Crawford decisively. - “Surely such people must have a better side to their natures that one may - appeal to.” - </p> - <p> - “I doubt it, Mrs. Crawford,” said Mr. Harwood, with only the least tinge - of sarcasm in his voice. “I admit that one might not have been in utter - despair though the dress was rather aggressive, but I cannot see anything - but depravity in that hat with those floral splendours.” - </p> - <p> - “But what is to be done?” said the lady. “Mr. Glaston would, no doubt, - advocate making a Jonah of that young person for the sake of saving the - rest of the ship's company. But, however just that might be, I do not - suppose it would be considered strictly legal.” - </p> - <p> - “Many acts of justice are done that are not legal,” replied Harwood - gravely. “From a legal standpoint, Cain was no murderer—his accuser - being witness and also judge. He would leave the court without a stain on - his character nowadays. Meantime, major, suppose we have a smoke on the - bridge.” - </p> - <p> - “He fancies he has said something clever,” remarked Mrs. Crawford when he - had walked away; and it must be confessed that Mr. Harwood had a suspicion - to that effect. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X. - </h2> - <p class="indent20"> - His will is not his own; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - For he himself is subject to his birth: - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - He may not, as unvalued persons do, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Carve for himself; for on his choice depends - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The safety and the health of this whole state, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And therefore must his choice be circumscribed - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Unto the voice and yielding of that body, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Whereof he is the head. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - <i>Osric</i>.... Believe me, an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent - differences, of very soft society and great showing; indeed, to speak - feelingly of him, he is the card... of gentry. - </p> - <p> - <i>Hamlet</i>.... His definement suffers no perdition in you... But, in - the verity of extolment I take him to be a soul of great article.—<i>Hamlet.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE information - which Daireen had received on the unimpeachable authority of the special - correspondent of the <i>Dominant Trumpeter</i> was somewhat puzzling to - her at first; but as she reflected upon the fact hat the position of - governor of the newly-acquired Castaway group must be one of importance, - she could not help feeling some happiness; only in the midmost heart of - her joy her recollection clasped a single grief—-a doubt about her - father was still clinging to her heart. The letter her grandfather had - received which caused her to make up her mind to set out for the Cape, - merely stated that Colonel Gerald had been found too weak to continue the - homeward voyage in the vessel that had brought him from India. He had a - bad attack of fever, and was not allowed to be moved from where he lay at - the Cape. The girl thought over all of this as she reflected upon what Mr. - Harwood had told her, and looking over the long restless waters of the Bay - of Biscay from her seat far astern, her eyes became very misty; the - unhappy author represented by the yellow-covered book which she had been - reading lay neglected upon her knee. But soon her brave, hopeful heart - took courage, and she began to paint in her imagination the fairest - pictures of the future—a future beneath the rich blue sky that was - alleged by the Ministers who had brought about the annexation, evermore to - overshadow the Castaway group—a future beneath the purple shadow of - the giant Slieve Docas when her father would have discharged his duties at - the Castaways. - </p> - <p> - She could not even pretend to herself to be reading the book she had - brought up, so that Mrs. Crawford could not have been accused of an - interruption when she drew her chair alongside the girl's, saying: - </p> - <p> - “We must have a little chat together, now that there is a chance for it. - It is really terrible how much time one can fritter away aboard ship. I - have known people take long voyages for the sake of study, and yet never - open a single book but a novel. By the way, what is this the major has - been telling me Harwood says about your father?” - </p> - <p> - Daireen repeated all that Harwood had said regarding the new island - colony, and begged Mrs. Crawford to give an opinion as to the - trustworthiness of the information. - </p> - <p> - “My dear child,” said Mrs. Crawford, “you may depend upon its truth if - Harwood told it to you. The <i>Dominant Trumpeter</i> sends out as many - arms as an octopus, for news, and, like the octopus too, it has the - instinct of only making use of what is worth anything. The Government have - been very good to George—I mean Colonel Gerald—he was always - 'George' with us when he was lieutenant. The Castaway governorship is one - of the nice things they sometimes have to dispose of to the deserving. It - was thought, you know, that George would sell out and get his brevet long - ago, but what he often said to us after your poor mother died convinced me - that he would not accept a quiet life. And so it was Mr. Harwood that gave - you this welcome news,” she continued, adding in a thoughtful tone, “By - the way, what do you think of Mr. Harwood?” - </p> - <p> - “I really have not thought anything about him,” Daireen replied, wondering - if it was indeed a necessity of life aboard ship to be able at a moment's - notice to give a summary of her opinion as to the nature of every person - she might chance to meet. - </p> - <p> - “He is a very nice man,” said Mrs. Crawford; “only just inclined to be - conceited, don't you think? This is our third voyage with him, so that we - know something of him. One knows more of a person at the end of a week at - sea than after a month ashore. What can be keeping Mr. Glaston over his - pears, I wonder? I meant to have presented him to you before. Ah, here he - comes out of the companion. I asked him to return to me.” - </p> - <p> - But again Mrs. Crawford's expectations were dashed to the ground. Mr. - Glaston certainly did appear on deck, and showed some sign in a languid - way of walking over to where Mrs. Crawford was sitting, but unfortunately - before he had taken half a dozen steps he caught sight of that terrible - pink dress and the hat with the jaundiced interior. He stopped short, and - a look of martyrdom passed over his face as he turned and made his way to - the bridge in the opposite direction to where that horror of pronounced - tones sat quite unconscious of the agony her appearance was creating in - the aesthetic soul of the young man. - </p> - <p> - Daireen having glanced up and seen the look of dismay upon his face, and - the flight of Mr. Glaston, could not avoid laughing outright so soon as he - had disappeared. But Mrs. Crawford did not laugh. On the contrary she - looked very grave. - </p> - <p> - “This is terrible—terrible, Daireen,” she said. “That vile hat has - driven him away. I knew it must.” - </p> - <p> - “Matters are getting serious indeed,” said the girl, with only the least - touch of mockery in her voice. “If he is not allowed to eat anything at - breakfast in sight of the dress, and he is driven up to the bridge by a - glimpse of the hat, I am afraid that his life will not be quite happy - here.” - </p> - <p> - “Happy! my dear, you cannot conceive the agonies he endures through his - sensitiveness. I must make the acquaintance of that young person and try - to bring her to see the error of her ways. Oh, how fortunate you had this - chocolate-gray!” - </p> - <p> - “I must have thought of it in a moment of inspiration,” said Daireen. - </p> - <p> - “Come, you really mustn't laugh,” said the elder lady reprovingly. “It was - a happy thought, at any rate, and I only hope that you will be able to - sustain its effect by something good at dinner. I must look over your - trunks and tell you what tone is most artistic.” - </p> - <p> - Daireen began to feel rebellious. - </p> - <p> - “My dear Mrs. Crawford, it is very kind of you to offer to take so much - trouble; but, you see, I do not feel it to be a necessity to choose the - shade of my dress solely to please the taste of a gentleman who may not be - absolutely perfect in his ideas.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford laughed. “Do not get angry, my dear,” she said. “I admire - your spirit, and I will not attempt to control your own good taste; you - will never, I am sure, sink to such a depth of depravity as is manifested - by that hat.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I think you may depend on me so far,” said Daireen. - </p> - <p> - Shortly afterwards Mrs. Crawford descended to arrange some matters in her - cabin, and Daireen had consequently an opportunity of returning to her - neglected author. - </p> - <p> - But before she had made much progress in her study she was again - interrupted, and this time by Doctor Campion, who had been smoking with - Mr. Harwood on the ship's bridge. Doctor Campion was a small man, with a - reddish face upon which a perpetual frown was resting. He had a jerky way - of turning his head as if it was set upon a ratchet wheel only capable of - shifting a tooth at a time. He had been in the army for a good many years, - and had only accepted the post aboard the <i>Cardwell Castle</i> for the - sake of his health. - </p> - <p> - “Young cub!” he muttered, as he came up to Daireen. “Infernal young cub!—I - beg your pardon, Miss Gerald, but I really must say it. That fellow - Glaston is getting out of all bounds. Ah, it's his father's fault—his - father's fault. Keeps him dawdling about England without any employment. - Why, it would have been better for him to have taken to the Church, as - they call it, at once, idle though the business is.” - </p> - <p> - “Surely you have not been wearing an inartistic tie, Doctor Campion?” - </p> - <p> - “Inartistic indeed! The puppy has got so much cant on his finger-ends that - weak-minded people think him a genius. Don't you believe it, my dear; he's - a dam puppy—excuse me, but there's really no drawing it mild here.” - </p> - <p> - Daireen was amused at the doctor's vehemence, however shocked she may have - been at his manner of getting rid of it. - </p> - <p> - “What on earth has happened with Mr. Glaston now?” she asked. “It is - impossible that there could be another obnoxious dress aboard.” - </p> - <p> - “He hasn't given himself any airs in that direction since,” said the - doctor. “But he came up to the bridge where we were smoking, and after he - had talked for a minute with Harwood, he started when he saw a boy who had - been sent up to clean out one of the hencoops—asked if we didn't - think his head marvellously like Carlyle's—was amazed at our want of - judgment—went up to the boy and cross-questioned him—found out - that his father sells vegetables to the Victoria Docks—asked if it - had ever been remarked before that his head was like Carlyle's—boy - says quickly that if the man he means is the tailor in Wapping, anybody - that says his head is like that man's is a liar, and then boy goes quietly - down. 'Wonderful!' says our genius, as he comes over to us; 'wonderful - head—exactly the same as Carlyle's, and language marvellously - similar—brief—earnest—emphatic—full of powah!' - Then he goes on to say he'll take notes of the boy's peculiarities and - send them to a magazine. I couldn't stand any more of that sort of thing, - so I left him with Harwood. Harwood can sift him.” - </p> - <p> - Daireen laughed at this new story of the young man whose movements seemed - to be regarded as of so much importance by every one aboard the steamer. - She began really to feel interested in this Mr. Glaston; and she thought - that perhaps she might as well be particular about the tone of the dress - she would select for appearing in before the judicial eyes of this Mr. - Glaston. She relinquished the design she had formed in her mind while Mrs. - Crawford was urging on her the necessity for discrimination in this - respect: she had resolved to show a recklessness in her choice of a dress, - but now she felt that she had better take Mrs. Crawford's advice, and give - some care to the artistic combinations of her toilette. - </p> - <p> - The result of her decision was that she appeared in such studious - carelessness of attire that Mr. Glaston, sitting opposite to her, was - enabled to eat a hearty dinner utterly regardless of the aggressive - splendour of the imperial blue dress worn by the other young lady, with a - pink ribbon flowing over it from her hair. This young lady's imagination - was unequal to suggesting a more diversified arrangement than she had - already shown. She thought it gave evidence of considerable strategical - resources to wear that pink ribbon over the blue dress: it was very nearly - as effective as the blue ribbon over the pink, of the morning. The - appreciation of contrast as an important element of effect in art was very - strongly developed in this young lady. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford did not conceal the satisfaction she felt observing the - appetite of Mr. Glaston; and after dinner she took his arm as he went - towards the bridge. - </p> - <p> - “I am so glad you were not offended with that dreadful young person's - hideous colours,” she said, as they strolled along. - </p> - <p> - “I could hardly have believed it possible that such wickedness could - survive nowadays,” he replied. “But I was, after the first few minutes, - quite unconscious of its enormity. My dear Mrs. Crawford, your young - protégée appeared as a spirit of light to charm away that fiend of evil. - She sat before me—a poem of tones—a delicate symphony of - Schumann's played at twilight on the brink of a mere of long reeds and - water-flags, with a single star shining through the well-defined twigs of - a solitary alder. That was her idea, don't you think?” - </p> - <p> - “I have no doubt of it,” the lady replied after a little pause. “But if - you allow me to present you to her you will have an opportunity of finding - out. Now do let me.” - </p> - <p> - “Not this evening, Mrs. Crawford; I do not feel equal to it,” he answered. - “She has given me too much to think about—too many ideas to work - out. That was the most thoughtful and pure-souled toilette I ever - recollect; but there are a few points about it I do not fully grasp, - though I have an instinct of their meaning. No, I want a quiet hour alone. - But you will do me the favour to thank the child for me.” - </p> - <p> - “I wish you would come and do it yourself,” said the lady. “But I suppose - there is no use attempting to force you. If you change your mind, remember - that we shall be here.” - </p> - <p> - She left the young man preparing a cigarette, and joined Daireen and the - major, who were sitting far astern: the girl with that fiction of a - fiction still in her hand; her companion with a cheroot that was anything - but insubstantial in his fingers. - </p> - <p> - “My dear child,” whispered Mrs. Crawford, “I am so glad you took your own - way and would not allow me to choose your dress for you. I could never - have dreamt of anything so perfect and——yes, it is far beyond - what I could have composed.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford thought it better on the whole not to transfer to Daireen - the expression of gratitude Mr. Glaston had begged to be conveyed to her. - She had an uneasy consciousness that such a message coming to one who was - as yet unacquainted with Mr. Glaston might give her the impression that he - was inclined to have some of that unhappy conceit, with the possession of - which Mrs. Crawford herself had accredited the race generally. - </p> - <p> - “Miss Gerald is an angel in whatever dress she may wear,” said the major - gallantly. “What is dress, after all?” he asked. “By gad, my dear, the - finest women I ever recollect seeing were in Burmah, and all the dress - they wore was the merest——” - </p> - <p> - “Major, you forget yourself,” cried his wife severely. - </p> - <p> - The major pulled vigorously at the end of his moustache, grinning and - bobbing his head towards the doctor. - </p> - <p> - “By gad, my dear, the recollection of those beauties would make any fellow - forget not only himself but his own wife, even if she was as fine a woman - as yourself.” - </p> - <p> - The doctor's face relapsed into its accustomed frown after he had given a - responsive grin and a baritone chuckle to the delicate pleasantry of his - old comrade. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI. - </h2> - <p class="indent20"> - Look, with what courteous action - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - It waves you to a more removed ground: - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - But do not go with it. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The very place puts toys of desperation, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Without more motive, into every brain. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - <i>Horatio.</i> What are they that would speak with me? - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - <i>Servant</i>. Sea-faring men, sir.—<i>Hamlet</i>. - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HO does not know - the delightful monotony of a voyage southward, broken only at the - intervals of anchoring beneath the brilliant green slopes of Madeira or - under the grim shadow of the cliffs of St. Helena? - </p> - <p> - The first week of the voyage for those who are not sensitive of the uneasy - motion of the ship through the waves of the Bay of Biscay is perhaps the - most delightful, for then every one is courteous with every one else. The - passengers have not become friendly enough to be able to quarrel - satisfactorily. The young ladies have got a great deal of white about - them, and they have not begun to show that jealousy of each other which - the next fortnight so powerfully develops. The men, too, are prodigal in - their distribution of cigars; and one feels in one's own heart nothing but - the most generous emotions, as one sits filling a meerschaum with Latakia - in the delicate twilight of time and of thought that succeeds the curried - lobster and pilau chickens as prepared in the galley of such ships as the - <i>Cardwell Castle</i>. Certainly for a week of Sabbaths a September - voyage to Madeira must be looked to. - </p> - <p> - Things had begun to arrange themselves aboard the <i>Cardwell Castle</i>. - The whist sets and the deck sets had been formed. The far-stretching arm - of society had at least one finger in the construction of the laws of life - in this Atlantic ship-town. - </p> - <p> - The young woman with the pronounced tastes in colour and the large - resources of imagination in the arrangement of blue and pink had become - less aggressive, as she was compelled to fall back upon the minor glories - of her trunk, so that there was no likelihood of Mr. Glaston's perishing - of starvation. Though very fond of taking-up young ladies, Mrs. Crawford - had no great struggle with her propensity so far as this young lady was - concerned. But as Mr. Glaston had towards the evening of the third day of - the voyage found himself in a fit state of mind to be presented to Miss - Gerald, Mrs. Crawford had nothing to complain of. She knew that the young - man was invariably fascinating to all of her sex, and she could see no - reason why Miss Gerald should not have at least the monotony of the voyage - relieved for her through the improving nature of his conversation. To be - sure, Mr. Harwood also possessed in his conversation many elements of - improvement, but then they were of a more commonplace type in Mrs. - Crawford's eyes, and she thought it as well, now and again when he was - sitting beside Daireen, to make a third to their party and assist in the - solution of any question they might be discussing. She rather wished that - it had not been in Mr. Harwood's power to give Daireen that information - about her father's appointment; it was a sort of link of friendship - between him and the girl; but Mrs. Crawford recollected her own - responsibility with regard to Daireen too well to allow such a frail link - to become a bond to bind with any degree of force. - </p> - <p> - She was just making a mental resolution to this effect upon the day - preceding their expected arrival at Madeira, when Mr. Harwood, who had - before tiffin been showing the girl how to adjust a binocular glass, - strolled up to where the major's wife sat resolving many things, - reflecting upon her victories in quarter-deck campaigns of the past and - laying out her tactics for the future. - </p> - <p> - “This is our third voyage together, is it not, Mrs. Crawford?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Let me see,” said the lady. “Yes, it is our third. Dear, dear, how time - runs past us!” - </p> - <p> - “I wish it did run past us; unfortunately it seems to remain to work some - of its vengeance upon each of us. But do you think we ever had a more - charming voyage so far as this has run, Mrs. Crawford?” - </p> - <p> - The lady became thoughtful. “That was a very nice trip in the P. & - O.'s <i>Turcoman</i>, when Mr. Carpingham of the Gunners proposed to Clara - Walton before he landed at Aden,” she said. “Curiously enough, I was - thinking about that very voyage just before you came up now. General - Walton had placed Clara in my care, and it was I who presented her to - young Carpingham.” There was a slight tone of triumph in her voice as she - recalled this victory of the past. - </p> - <p> - “I remember well,” said Mr. Harwood. “How pleased every one was, and also - how—well, the weather was extremely warm in the Red Sea just before - he proposed. But I certainly think that this voyage is likely to be quite - as pleasant. By the way, what a charming protégée you have got this time, - Mrs. Crawford.” - </p> - <p> - “She is a dear girl indeed, and I hope that she may find her father all - right at the Cape. Think of what she must suffer.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Harwood glanced round and saw that Mr. Glaston had strolled up to - Daireen's chair. “Yes, I have no doubt that she suffers,” he said. “But - she is so gentle, so natural in her thoughts and in her manner, I should - indeed be sorry that any trouble would come to her.” He was himself - speaking gently now—so gently, in fact, that Mrs. Crawford drew her - lips together with a slight pressure. “Perhaps it is because I am so much - older than she that she talks to me naturally as she would to her father. - I am old enough to be her father, I suppose,” he added almost mournfully. - But this only made the lady's lips become more compressed. She had heard - men talk before now of being old enough to be young ladies' fathers, and - she could also recollect instances of men who were actually old enough to - be young ladies' grandfathers marrying those very young ladies. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Mrs. Crawford, “Daireen is a dear natural little thing.” Into - the paternal potentialities of Mr. Harwood's position towards this dear - natural little thing Mrs. Crawford did not think it judicious to go just - then. - </p> - <p> - “She is a dear child,” he repeated. “By the way, we shall be at Funchal at - noon to-morrow, and we do not leave until the evening. You will land, I - suppose?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't think I shall, I know every spot so well, and those bullock - sleighs are so tiresome. I am not so young as I was when I first made - their acquaintance.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, really, if that is your only plea, my dear Mrs. Crawford, we may - count on your being in our party.” - </p> - <p> - “Our party!” said the lady. - </p> - <p> - “I should not say that until I get your consent,” said Harwood quickly. - “Miss Gerald has never been at the island, you see, and she is girlishly - eager to go ashore. Miss Butler and her mother are also landing”—these - were other passengers—“and in a weak moment I volunteered my - services as guide. Don't you think you can trust me so far as to agree to - be one of us?” - </p> - <p> - “Of course I can,” she said. “If Daireen wishes to go ashore you may - depend upon my keeping her company. But you will have to provide a sleigh - for myself.” - </p> - <p> - “You may depend upon the sleigh, Mrs. Crawford; and many thanks for your - trusting to my guidance. Though I sleigh you yet you will trust me.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Harwood, that is dreadful. I am afraid that Mrs. Butler will need one - of them also.” - </p> - <p> - “The entire sleigh service shall be impressed if necessary,” said the - “special,” as he walked away. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford felt that she had not done anything rash. Daireen would, no - doubt, be delighted with the day among the lovely heights of Madeira, and - if by some little thoughtfulness it would be possible to hit upon a plan - that should give over the guidance of some of the walking members of the - party to Mr. Glaston, surely the matter was worth pursuing. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Glaston was just at this instant looking into, Daireen's face as he - talked to her. He invariably kept his eyes fixed upon the faces of the - young women to whom he was fond of talking. It did not argue any - earnestness on his part, Mrs. Crawford knew. He seemed now, however, to be - a little in earnest in what he was saying. But then Mrs. Crawford - reflected that the subjects upon which his discourse was most impassioned - were mostly those that other people would call trivial, such as the effect - produced upon the mind of man by seeing a grape-green ribbon lying upon a - pale amber cushion. “Every colour has got its soul,” she once heard him - say; “and though any one can appreciate its meaning and the work it has to - perform in the world, the subtle thoughts breathed by the tones are too - delicate to be understood except by a few. Colour is language of the - subtlest nature, and one can praise God through that medium just as one - can blaspheme through it.” He had said this very earnestly at one time, - she recollected, and as she now saw Daireen laugh she thought it was not - impossible that it might be at some phrase of the same nature, the meaning - of which her uncultured ear did not at once catch, that Daireen had - laughed. Daireen, at any rate, did laugh in spite of his earnestness of - visage. - </p> - <p> - In a few moments Mr. Glaston came over to Mrs. Crawford, and now his face - wore an expression of sadness rather than of any other emotion. - </p> - <p> - “My dear Mrs. Crawford, you surely cannot intend to give your consent to - that child's going ashore tomorrow. She tells me that that newspaper - fellow has drawn her into a promise to land with a party—actually a - party—and go round the place like a Cook's excursion.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I hope we shall not be like that, Mr. Glaston,” said Mrs. Crawford. - </p> - <p> - “But you have not given your consent?” - </p> - <p> - “If Daireen would enjoy it I do not see how I could avoid. Mr. Harwood was - talking to me just now. He seems to think she will enjoy herself, as she - has never seen the island before. Will you not be one of our party?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Mrs. Crawford, if you have got the least regard for me, do not say - that word party; it means everything that is popular; it suggests - unutterable horrors to me. No subsequent pleasure could balance the agony - I should endure going ashore. Will you not try and induce that child to - give up the idea? Tell her what dreadful taste it would be to join a party—that - it would most certainly destroy her perceptions of beauty for months to - come.” - </p> - <p> - “I am very sorry I promised Mr. Harwood,” said the lady; “if going ashore - would do all of this it would certainly be better for Daireen to remain - aboard. But they will be taking in coals here,” she added, as the sudden - thought struck her. - </p> - <p> - “She can shut herself in her cabin and neither see nor hear anything - offensive. Who but a newspaper man would think of suggesting to cultured - people the possibility of enjoyment in a party?” - </p> - <p> - But the newspaper man had strolled up to the place beside Daireen, which - the aesthetic man had vacated. He knew something of the art of strategical - defence, this newspaper man, and he was well aware that as he had got the - promise of the major's wife, all the arguments that might be advanced by - any one else would not cause him to be defrauded of the happiness of being - by this girl's side in one of the loveliest spots of the world. - </p> - <p> - “I will find out what Daireen thinks,” said Mrs. Crawford, in reply to Mr. - Glaston; and just then she turned and saw the newspaper man beside the - girl. - </p> - <p> - “Never mind him,” said Mr. Glaston; “tell the poor child that it is - impossible for her to go.” - </p> - <p> - “I really cannot break my promise,” replied the lady. “We must be - resigned, it will only be for a few hours.” - </p> - <p> - “This is the saddest thing I ever knew,” said Mr. Glaston. “She will lose - all the ideas she was getting—all through being of a party. Good - heavens, a party!” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford could see that Mr. Glaston was annoyed at the presence of - Harwood by the side of the girl, and she smiled, for she was too old a - tactician not to be well aware of the value of a skeleton enemy. - </p> - <p> - “How kind of you to say you would not mind my going ashore,” said Daireen, - walking up to her. “We shall enjoy ourselves I am sure, and Mr. Harwood - knows every spot to take us to. I was afraid that Mr. Glaston might be - talking to you as he was to me.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, he spoke to me, but of course, my dear, if you think you would like - to go ashore I shall not say anything but that I will be happy to take - care of you.” - </p> - <p> - “You are all that is good,” said Mr. Harwood. This was very pretty, the - lady thought—very pretty indeed; but at the same time she was making - up her mind that if the gentleman before her had conceived it probable - that he should be left to exhibit any of the wonders of the island scenery - to the girl, separate from the companionship of the girl's temporary - guardian, he would certainly find out that he had reckoned without due - regard to other contingencies. - </p> - <p> - Sadness was the only expression visible upon the face of Mr. Glaston for - the remainder of this day; but upon the following morning this aspect had - changed to one of contempt as he heard nearly all the cabin's company - talking with expectancy of the joys of a few hours ashore. It was a great - disappointment to him to observe the brightening of the face of Daireen - Gerald, as Mr. Harwood came to tell her that the land was in sight. - </p> - <p> - Daireen's face, however, did brighten. She went up to the ship's bridge, - and Mr. Harwood, laying one hand upon her shoulder, pointed out with the - other where upon the horizon lay a long, low, gray cloud. Mrs. Crawford - observing his action, and being well aware that the girl's range of vision - was not increased in the smallest degree by the touch of his fingers upon - her shoulder, made a resolution that she herself would be the first to - show Daireen the earliest view of St. Helena when they should be - approaching that island. - </p> - <p> - But there lay that group of cloud, and onward the good steamer sped. In - the course of an hour the formless mass had assumed a well-defined outline - against the soft blue sky. Then a lovely white bird came about the ship - from the distance like a spirit from those Fortunate Islands. In a short - time a gleam of sunshine was seen reflected from the flat surface of a - cliff, and then the dark chasms upon the face of each of the island-rocks - of the Dezertas could be seen. But when these were passed the long island - of Madeira appeared gray and massive, and with a white cloud clinging - about its highest ridges. Onward still, and the thin white thread of foam - encircling the rocks was perceived. Then the outline of the cliffs stood - defined against the fainter background of the island; but still all was - gray and colourless. Not for long, however, for the sunlight smote the - clouds and broke their gray masses, and then fell around the ridges, - showing the green heights of vines and slopes of sugar-canes. But it was - not until the roll of the waves against the cliff-faces was heard that the - cloud-veil was lifted and all the glad green beauty of the slope flashed - up to the blue sky, and thrilled all those who stood on the deck of the - vessel. - </p> - <p> - Along this lovely coast the vessel moved through the sparkling green - ripples. Not the faintest white fleck of cloud was now in the sky, and the - sunlight falling downwards upon the island, brought out every brown rock - of the coast in bold relief against the brilliant green of the slope. So - close to the shore the vessel passed, the nearer cliffs appeared to glide - away as the land in their shade was disclosed, and this effect of soft - motion was entrancing to all who experienced it. Then the low headland - with the island-rock crowned with a small pillared building was reached - and passed, and the lovely bay of Funchal came in view. - </p> - <p> - Daireen, who had lived among the sombre magnificence of the Irish scenery, - felt this soft dazzling green as something marvellously strange and - unexpected. Had not Mr. Glaston descended to his cabin at the earliest - expression of delight that was forced from the lips of some young lady on - the deck, he, would have been still more disappointed with Daireen, for - her face was shining with happiness. But Mr. Harwood found more pleasure - in watching her face than he did in gazing at the long crescent slope of - the bay, and at the white houses that peeped from amongst the vines, or at - the high convent of the hill. He did not speak a word to the girl, but - only watched her as she drank in everything of beauty that passed before - her. - </p> - <p> - Then the Loo rock at the farther point of the bay was neared, and as the - engine slowed, the head of the steamer was brought round towards the white - town of Funchal, spread all about the beach where the huge rollers were - breaking. The tinkle of the engine-room telegraph brought a wonderful - silence over everything as the propeller ceased. The voice of the captain - giving orders about the lead line was heard distinctly, and the passengers - felt inclined to speak in whispers. Suddenly with a harsh roar the great - chain cable rushes out and the anchor drops into the water. - </p> - <p> - “This is the first stage of our voyage,” said Mr. Harwood. “Now, while I - select a boat, will you kindly get ready for landing? Oh, Mrs. Crawford, - you will be with us at once, I suppose?” - </p> - <p> - “Without the loss of a moment,” said the lady, going down to the cabins - with Daireen. - </p> - <p> - The various island authorities pushed off from the shore in their boats, - sitting under canvas awnings and looking unpleasantly like banditti. - Doctor Campion answered their kind inquiries regarding the health of the - passengers, for nothing could exceed the attentive courtesy shown by the - government in this respect. - </p> - <p> - Then a young Scotchman, who had resolved to emulate Mr. Harwood's example - in taking a party ashore, began making a bargain by signs with one of the - boatmen, while his friends stood around. The major and the doctor having - plotted together to go up to pay a visit to an hotel, pushed off in a - government boat without acquainting any one with their movements. But long - before the Scotchman had succeeded in reducing the prohibitory sum named - by the man with whom he was treating for the transit of the party ashore, - Mr. Harwood had a boat waiting at the rail for his friends, and Mrs. - Butler and her daughter were in act to descend, chatting with the - “special” who was to be their guide. Another party had already left for - the shore, the young lady who had worn the blue and pink appearing in a - bonnet surrounded with resplendent flowers and beads. But before the - smiles of Mrs. Butler and Harwood had passed away, Mrs. Crawford and - Daireen had come on deck again, the former with many apologies for her - delay. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Harwood ran down the sloping rail to assist the ladies into the boat - that rose and fell with every throb of the waves against the ship's side. - Mrs. Crawford followed him and was safely stowed in a place in the stern. - Then came Mrs. Butler and her daughter, and while Mr. Harwood was handing - them off the last step Daireen began to descend. But she had not got - farther down than to where a young sailor was kneeling to shift the line - of one of the fruit boats, when she stopped suddenly with a great start - that almost forced a cry from her. - </p> - <p> - “For God's sake go on—give no sign if you don't wish to make me - wretched,” said the sailor in a whisper. - </p> - <p> - “Come, Miss Gerald, we are waiting,” cried Harwood up the long rail. - </p> - <p> - Daireen remained irresolute for a moment, then walked slowly down, and - allowed herself to be handed into the boat. - </p> - <p> - “Surely you are not timid, Miss Gerald,” said Harwood as the boat pushed - off. - </p> - <p> - “Timid?” said Daireen mechanically. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, your hand was really trembling as I helped you down.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no, I am not—not timid, only—I fear I shall not be very - good company to-day; I feel——” she looked back to the steamer - and did not finish her sentence. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Harwood glanced at her for a moment, thinking if it really could be - possible that she was regretting the absence of Mr. Glaston. Mrs. Crawford - also looked at her and came to the conclusion that, at the last moment, - the girl was recalling the aesthetic instructions of the young man who was - doubtless sitting lonely in his cabin while she was bent on enjoying - herself with a “party.” - </p> - <p> - But Daireen was only thinking how it was she had refrained from crying out - when she saw the face of that sailor on the rail, and when she heard his - voice; and it must be confessed that it was rather singular, taking into - account the fact that she had recognised in the features and voice of that - sailor the features and voice of Standish Macnamara. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - Your visitation shall receive such thanks - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - As fits... remembrance. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - ... Thus do we of wisdom and of reach, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - With windlasses and with assays of bias, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - By indirections find directions out. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - More matter with less art.—<i>Hamlet.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE thin white silk - thread of a moon was hanging in the blue twilight over the darkened - western slope of the island, and almost within the horns of its crescent a - planet was burning without the least tremulous motion. The lights of the - town were glimmering over the waters, and the strange, wildly musical - cries of the bullock-drivers were borne faintly out to the steamer, - mingling with the sound of the bell of St. Mary's on the Mount. - </p> - <p> - The vessel had just begun to move away from its anchorage, and Daireen - Gerald was standing on the deck far astern leaning over the bulwarks - looking back upon the island slope whose bright green had changed to - twilight purple. Not of the enjoyment of the day she had spent up among - the vines was the girl thinking; her memory fled back to the past days - spent beneath the shadow of a slope that was always purple, with a robe of - heather clinging to it from base to summit. - </p> - <p> - “I hope you don't regret having taken my advice about going on shore, Miss - Gerald,” said Mr. Harwood, who had come beside her. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no,” she said; “it was all so lovely—so unlike what I ever saw - or imagined.” - </p> - <p> - “It has always seemed lovely to me,” he said, “but to-day it was very - lovely. I had got some pleasant recollections of the island before, but - now the memories I shall retain will be the happiest of my life.” - </p> - <p> - “Was to-day really so much pleasanter?” asked the girl quickly. “Then I am - indeed fortunate in my first visit. But you were not at any part of the - island that you had not seen before,” she added, after a moment's pause. - </p> - <p> - “No,” he said quietly. “But I saw all to-day under a new aspect.” - </p> - <p> - “You had not visited it in September? Ah, I recollect now having heard - that this was the best month for Madeira. You see I am fortunate.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, you are—fortunate,” he said slowly. “You are fortunate; you - are a child; I am—a man.” - </p> - <p> - Daireen was quite puzzled by his tone; it was one of sadness, and she knew - that he was not accustomed to be sad. He had not been so at any time - through the day when they were up among the vineyards looking down upon - the tiny ships in the harbour beneath them, or wandering through the - gardens surrounding the villa at which they had lunched after being - presented by their guide—no, he had certainly not displayed any sign - of sadness then. But here he was now beside her watching the lights of the - shore twinkling into dimness, and speaking in this way that puzzled her. - </p> - <p> - “I don't know why, if you say you will have only pleasant recollections of - to-day, you should speak in a tone like that,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “No, no, you would not understand it,” he replied. If she had kept silence - after he had spoken his previous sentence, he would have been tempted to - say to her what he had on his heart, but her question made him hold back - his words, for it proved to him what he told her—she would not - understand him. - </p> - <p> - It is probable, however, that Mrs. Crawford, who by the merest accident, - of course, chanced to come from the cabin at this moment, would have - understood even the most enigmatical utterance that might pass from his - lips on the subject of his future memories of the day they had spent on - the island; she felt quite equal to the solution of any question of - psychological analysis that might arise. But she contented herself now by - calling Daireen's attention to the flashing of the phosphorescent water at - the base of the cliffs round which the vessel was moving, and the - observance of this phenomenon drew the girl's thoughts away from the - possibility of discovering the meaning of the man's words. The major and - his old comrade Doctor Campion then came near and expressed the greatest - anxiety to learn how their friends had passed the day. Both major and - doctor were in the happiest of moods. They had visited the hotel they - agreed in stating, and no one on the deck undertook to prove anything to - the contrary—no one, in fact, seemed to doubt in the least the truth - of what they said. - </p> - <p> - In a short time Mrs. Crawford and Daireen were left alone; not for long, - however, for Mr. Glaston strolled languidly up. - </p> - <p> - “I cannot say I hope you enjoyed yourself,” he said. “I know very well you - did not. I hope you could not.” - </p> - <p> - Daireen laughed. “Your hopes are misplaced, I fear, Mr. Glaston,” she - answered. “We had a very happy day—had we not, Mrs. Crawford?” - </p> - <p> - “I am afraid we had, dear.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, Mr. Harwood said distinctly to me just now,” continued Daireen, - “that it was the pleasantest day he had ever passed upon the island.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, he said so? well, you see, he is a newspaper man, and they all look - at things from a popular standpoint; whatever is popular is right, is - their motto; while ours is, whatever is popular is wrong.” - </p> - <p> - He felt himself speaking as the representative of a class, no doubt, when - he made use of the plural. - </p> - <p> - “Yes; Mr. Harwood seemed even more pleased than we were,” continued the - girl. “He told me that the recollection of our exploration to-day would be - the—the—yes, the happiest of his life. He did indeed,” she - added almost triumphantly. - </p> - <p> - “Did he?” said Mr. Glaston slowly. - </p> - <p> - “My dear child,” cried Mrs. Crawford, quickly interposing, “he has got - that way of talking. He has, no doubt, said those very words to every - person he took ashore on his previous visits. He has, I know, said them - every evening for a fortnight in the Mediterranean.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you don't think he means anything beyond a stupid compliment to us? - What a wretched thing it is to be a girl, after all. Never mind, I enjoyed - myself beyond any doubt.” - </p> - <p> - “It is impossible—quite impossible, child,” said the young man. - “Enjoyment with a refined organisation such as yours can never be anything - that is not reflective—it is something that cannot be shared with a - number of persons. It is quite impossible that you could have any feeling - in common with such a mind as this Mr. Harwood's or with the other people - who went ashore. I heard nothing but expressions of enjoyment, and I felt - really sad to think that there was not a refined soul among them all. They - enjoyed themselves, therefore you did not.” - </p> - <p> - “I think I can understand you,” said Mrs. Crawford at once, for she feared - that Daireen might attempt to question the point he insisted on. Of course - when the superior intellect of Mr. Glaston demonstrated that they could - not have enjoyed themselves, it was evident that it was their own - sensations which were deceiving them. Mrs. Crawford trusted to the - decision of the young man's intellect more implicitly than she did her own - senses: just as Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton Heath, came to - believe the practical jesters. - </p> - <p> - “Should you enjoy the society and scenery of a desert island better than - an inhabited one?” asked the girl, somewhat rebellious at the concessions - of Mrs. Crawford. - </p> - <p> - “Undoubtedly, if everything was in good taste,” he answered quietly. - </p> - <p> - “That is, if everything was in accordance with your own taste,” came the - voice of Mr. Harwood, who, unseen, had rejoined the party. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Glaston made no reply. He had previously become aware of the - unsatisfactory results of making any answers to such men as wrote for - newspapers. As he had always considered such men outside the world of art - in which he lived and to the inhabitants of which he addressed himself, it - was hardly to be expected that he would put himself on a level of argument - with them. In fact, Mr. Glaston rarely consented to hold an argument with - any one. If people maintained opinions different from his own, it was so - much the worse for those people—that was all he felt. It was to a - certain circle of young women in good society that he preferred addressing - himself, for he knew that to each individual in that circle he appeared as - the prophet and high priest of art. His tone-poems in the college - magazine, his impromptus—musical <i>aquarellen</i> he called them—performed - in secret and out of hearing of any earthly audience, his - colour-harmonies, his statuesque idealisms—all these were his - priestly ministrations; while the interpretation, not of his own works—this - he never attempted—but of the works of three poets belonging to what - he called his school, of one painter, and of one musical composer, was his - prophetical service. - </p> - <p> - It was obviously impossible that such a man could put himself on that - mental level which would be implied by his action should he consent to - make any answer to a person like Mr. Harwood. But apart from these general - grounds, Mr. Glaston had got concrete reasons for declining to discuss any - subject with this newspaper man. He knew that it was Mr. Harwood who had - called the tone-poems of the college magazine alliterative conundrums for - young ladies; that it was Mr. Harwood who had termed one of the - colour-harmonies a study in virulent jaundice; that it was Mr. Harwood who - had, after smiling on being told of the <i>aquarellen</i> impromptus, - expressed a desire to hear one of these compositions—all this Mr. - Glaston knew well, and so when Mr. Harwood made that remark about taste - Mr. Glaston did not reply. - </p> - <p> - Daireen, however, did not feel the silence oppressive. She kept her eyes - fixed upon that thin thread of moon that was now almost touching the dark - ridge of the island. - </p> - <p> - Harwood looked at her for a few moments, and then he too leaned over the - side of the ship and gazed at that lovely moon and its burning star. - </p> - <p> - “How curious,” he said gently—“how very curious, is it not, that the - sight of that hill and that moon should bring back to me memories of Lough - Suangorm and Slieve Docas?” - </p> - <p> - The girl gave a start. “You are thinking of them too? I am so glad. It - makes me so happy to know that I am not the only one here who knows all - about Suangorm.” Suddenly another thought seemed to come to her. She - turned her eyes away from the island and glanced down the deck anxiously. - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Mr. Harwood very gently indeed; “you are not alone in your - memories of the loveliest spot of the world.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford thought it well to interpose. “My dear Daireen, you must be - careful not to take a chill now after all the unusual exercise you have - had during the day. Don't you think you had better go below?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I had much better,” said the girl quickly and in a startled tone; - and she had actually gone to the door of the companion before she - recollected that she had not said good-night either to Glaston or Harwood. - She turned back and redeemed her negligence, and then went down with her - good guardian. - </p> - <p> - “Poor child,” thought Mr. Glaston, “she fears that I am hurt by her - disregard of my advice about going ashore with those people. Poor child! - perhaps I was hard upon her!” - </p> - <p> - “Poor little thing,” thought Mr. Harwood. “She begins to understand.” - </p> - <p> - “It would never do to let that sort or thing go on,” thought Mrs. - Crawford, as she saw that Daireen got a cup of tea before retiring. Mrs. - Crawford fully appreciated Mr. Harwood's cleverness in reading the girl's - thought and so quickly adapting his speech to the requirements of the - moment; but she felt her own superiority of cleverness. - </p> - <p> - Each of the three was a careful and experienced observer, but there are - certain conditional influences to be taken into account in arriving at a - correct conclusion as to the motives of speech or action of every human - subject under observation; and the reason that these careful analysts of - motives were so utterly astray in tracing to its source the remissness of - Miss Gerald, was probably because none of the three was aware of the - existence of an important factor necessary for the solution of the - interesting problem they had worked out so airily; this factor being the - sudden appearance of Standish Macnamara beside the girl in the morning, - and her consequent reflections upon the circumstance in the evening. - </p> - <p> - But as she sat alone in her cabin, seeing through the port the effect of - the silver moonlight upon the ridge of the hill behind which the moon - itself had now sunk, she was wondering, as she had often wondered during - the day, if indeed it was Standish whom she had seen and whose voice she - had heard. All had been so sudden—so impossible, she thought, that - the sight of him and the hearing of his voice seemed to her but as the - memories of a dream of her home. - </p> - <p> - But now that she was alone and capable of reflecting upon the matter, she - felt that she had not been deceived. By some means the young man to whom - she had written her last letter in Ireland was aboard the steamer. It was - very wonderful to the girl to reflect upon this; but then she thought if - he was aboard, why should she not be able to find him and ask him all - about himself? - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII. - </h2> - <p class="indent30"> - Providence - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Should have kept short, restrained, and out of haunt - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - This mad young man... - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - His very madness, like some ore - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Among a mineral of metals base, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Shows itself pure. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - To what I shall unfold. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - It is common for the younger sort - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - To lack discretion. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - <i>Queen</i>.... Whereon do you look? - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - <i>Hamlet</i>. On him, on him! look you, how pale he glares. - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - ... It is not madness - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - That I have uttered: bring me to the test.—<i>Hamlet</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE question which - suggested itself to Daireen as to the possibility of seeing Standish - aboard the steamer, was not the only one that occupied her thoughts. How - had he come aboard, and why had he come aboard, were further questions - whose solution puzzled her. She recollected how he had told her on that - last day she had seen him, while they walked in the garden after leaving - The Macnamara in that side room with the excellent specimen of ancient - furniture ranged with glass vessels, that he was heartily tired of living - among the ruins of the castle, and that he had made up his mind to go out - into the world of work. She had then begged of him to take no action of so - much importance until her father should have returned to give him the - advice he needed; and in that brief postscript which she had added to the - farewell letter given into the care of the bard O'Brian, she had expressed - her regret that this counsel of hers had been rendered impracticable. Was - it possible, however, that Standish placed so much confidence in the - likelihood of valuable advice being given to him by her father that he had - resolved to go out to the Cape and speak with him on the subject face to - face, she thought; but it struck her that there would be something like an - inconsistency in the young man's travelling six thousand miles to take an - opinion as to the propriety of his leaving his home. - </p> - <p> - What was she to do? She felt that she must see Standish and have from his - own lips an explanation of how he had come aboard the ship; but in that, - sentence he had spoken to her he had entreated of her to keep silence, so - that she dared not seek for him under the guidance of Mrs. Crawford or any - of her friends aboard the vessel. It would be necessary for her to find - him alone, and she knew that this would be a difficult thing to do, - situated as she was. But let the worst come, she reflected that it could - only result in the true position of Standish being-known. This was really - all that the girl believed could possibly be the result if a secret - interview between herself and a sailor aboard the steamer should be - discovered; and, thinking of the worst consequences so lightly, made her - all the more anxious to hasten on such an interview if she could contrive - it. - </p> - <p> - She seated herself upon her little sofa and tried to think by what means - she could meet with Standish, and yet fulfil his entreaty for secrecy. Her - imagination, so far as inventing plans was concerned, did not seem to be - inexhaustible. After half an hour's pondering over the matter, no more - subtle device was suggested to her than going on deck and walking alone - towards the fore-part of the ship between the deck-house and the bulwarks, - where it might possibly chance that Standish would be found. This was her - plan, and she did not presume to think to herself that its intricacy was - the chief element of its possible success. Had she been aware of the fact - that Standish was at that instant standing in the shadow of that - deck-house looking anxiously astern in the hope of catching a glimpse of - her—had she known that since the steamer had left the English port - he had every evening stood with the same object in the same place, she - would have been more hopeful of her simple plan succeeding. - </p> - <p> - At any rate she stole out of her cabin and went up the companion and out - upon the deck, with all the caution that a novice in the art of - dissembling could bring to her aid. - </p> - <p> - The night was full of softness—softness of gray reflected light from - the waters that were rippling along before the vessel—softness of - air that seemed saturated with the balm of odorous trees growing upon the - slopes of those Fortunate Islands. The deck was deserted by passengers; - only Major Crawford, the doctor, and the special correspondent were - sitting in a group in their cane chairs, smoking their cheroots and - discussing some action of a certain colonel that had not yet been fully - explained, though it had taken place fifteen years previously. The group - could not see her, she knew; but even if they had espied her and demanded - an explanation, she felt that she had progressed sufficiently far in the - crooked ways of deception to be able to lull their suspicions by her - answers. She could tell them that she had a headache, or put them off with - some equally artful excuse. - </p> - <p> - She walked gently along until she was at the rear of the deck-house where - the stock of the mainmast was standing with all its gear. She looked down - the dark tunnel passage between the side of the house and the bulwarks, - but she felt her courage fail her: she dared do all that might become a - woman, but the gloom of that covered place, and the consciousness that - beyond it lay the mysterious fore-cabin space, caused her to pause. What - was she to do? - </p> - <p> - Suddenly there came the sound of a low voice at her ear. - </p> - <p> - “Daireen, Daireen, why did you come here?” She started and looked around - trembling, for it was the voice of Standish, though she could not see the - form of the speaker. It was some moments before she found that he was - under the broad rail leading to the ship's bridge. - </p> - <p> - “Then it is you, Standish, indeed?” she said. “How on earth did you come - aboard?—Why have you come?—Are you really a sailor?—Where - is your father?—Does he know?—Why don't you shake hands with - me, Standish?” - </p> - <p> - These few questions she put to him in a breath, looking between the steps - of the rail. - </p> - <p> - “Daireen, hush, for Heaven's sake!” he said anxiously. “You don't know - what you are doing in coming to speak with me here—I am only a - sailor, and if you were seen near me it would be terrible. Do go back to - your cabin and leave me to my wretchedness.” - </p> - <p> - “I shall not go back,” she said resolutely. “I am your friend, Standish, - and why should I not speak to you for an hour if I wish? You are not the - quartermaster at the wheel. What a start you gave me this morning! Why did - you not tell me you were coming in this steamer?” - </p> - <p> - “I did not leave Suangorm until the next morning after I heard you had - gone,” he answered in a whisper. “I should have died—I should - indeed, Daireen, if I had remained at home while you were gone away - without any one to take care of you.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Standish, Standish, what will your father say?—What will he - think?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't care,” said Standish. “I told him on that day when we returned - from Suanmara that I would go away. I was a fool that I did not make up my - mind long ago. It was, indeed, only when you left that I carried out my - resolution. I learned what ship you were going in; I had as much money as - brought me to England—I had heard of people working their passage - abroad; so I found out the captain of the steamer, and telling him all - about myself that I could—not of course breathing your name, Daireen—I - begged him to allow me to work my way as a sailor, and he agreed to give - me the passage. He wanted me to become a waiter in the cabin, but I - couldn't do that; I didn't mind facing all the hardships that might come, - so long as I was near you—and—able to get your father's - advice. Now do go back, Daireen.” - </p> - <p> - “No one will see us,” said the girl, after a pause, in which she reflected - on the story he had told her. “But all is so strange, Standish,” she - continued—“all is so unlike anything I ever imagined possible. Oh, - Standish, it is too dreadful to think of your being a sailor—just a - sailor—aboard the ship.” - </p> - <p> - “There's nothing so very bad in it,” he replied. “I can work, thank God; - and I mean to work. The thought of being near you—that is, near the - time when I can get the advice I want from your father—makes all my - labour seem light.” - </p> - <p> - “But if I ask the captain, he will, I am sure, let you become a - passenger,” said the girl suddenly. “Do let me ask him, Standish. It is so—so - hard for you to have to work as a sailor.” - </p> - <p> - “It is no harder than I expected it would be,” he said; “I am not afraid - to work hard: and I feel that I am doing something—I feel it. I - should be more wretched in the cabin. Now do not think of speaking to me - for the rest of the voyage, Daireen; only, do not forget that you have a - friend aboard the ship—a friend who will be willing to die for you.” - </p> - <p> - His voice was very tremulous, and she could see his tearful eyes - glistening in the gray light as he put out one of his hands to her. She - put her own hand into it and felt his strong earnest grasp as he - whispered, “God bless you, Daireen! God bless you!” - </p> - <p> - “Make it six bells, quartermaster,” came the voice of the officer on watch - from the bridge. In fear and trembling Daireen waited until the man came - aft and gave the six strokes upon the ship's bell that hung quite near - where she was standing—Standish thinking it prudent to remain close - in the shade of the rail. The quartermaster saw her, but did not, of - course, conceive it to be within the range of his duties to give any - thought to the circumstance of a passenger being on deck at that hour. - When the girl turned round after the bell had been struck, she found that - Standish had disappeared. All she could do was to hasten back to her cabin - with as much caution as it was possible for her to preserve, for she could - still hear the hoarse tones of the major's voice coming from the centre of - the group far astern, who were regaled with a very pointed chronicle of a - certain station in the empire of Hindustan. - </p> - <p> - Daireen reached her cabin and sat once more upon her sofa, breathing a - sigh of relief, for she had never in her life had such a call upon her - courage as this to which she had just responded. - </p> - <p> - Her face was flushed and hot, and her hands were trembling, so she threw - open the pane of the cabin port-hole and let the soft breeze enter. It - moved about her hair as she stood there, and she seemed to feel the - fingers of a dear friend caressing her forehead. Then she sat down once - more and thought over all that had happened since the morning when she had - gone on deck to see that gray cloud-land brighten into the lovely green - slope of Madeira. - </p> - <p> - She thought of all that Standish had told her about himself, and she felt - her heart overflowing, as were her eyes, with sympathy for him who had - cast aside his old life and was endeavouring to enter upon the new. - </p> - <p> - As she sat there in her dreaming mood all the days of the past came back - to her, with a clearness she had never before known. All the pleasant - hours returned to her with even a more intense happiness than she had felt - at first. For out of the distance of these Fortunate Islands the ghosts of - the blessed departed hours came and moved before her, looking into her - face with their own sweet pale faces; thus she passed from a waking dream - into a dream of sleep as she lay upon her sofa, and the ghost shapes - continued to float before her. The fatigue of the day, the darkness of the - cabin, and the monotonous washing of the ripples against the side of the - ship, had brought on her sleep before she had got into her berth. - </p> - <p> - With a sudden start she awoke and sprang to her feet in instantaneous - consciousness, for the monotony of the washing waves was broken by a sound - that was strange and startling to her ears—the sound of something - hard tapping at irregular intervals upon the side of the ship just at her - ear. - </p> - <p> - She ran over to the cabin port and looked out fearfully—looked out - and gave a cry of terror, for beneath her—out from those gray waters - there glanced up to her in speechless agony the white face of a man; she - saw it but for a moment, then it seemed to be swept away from her and - swallowed up in the darkness of the deep waters. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV. - </h2> - <p class="indent30"> - ... Rashly, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And praised be rashness for it.... - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Up from my cabin, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Groped I to find out them... making so bold, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - My fears forgetting manners. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Give me leave: here lies the water; good: here stands the man; good. - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - Let us know - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - ... and that should learn us - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - There's a divinity that shapes our ends - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Rough-hew them how we will.—<i>Hamlet.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> SINGLE cry of - terror was all that Daireen uttered as she fell back upon her berth. An - instant more and she was standing with white lips, and hands that were - untrembling as the rigid hand of a dead person. She knew what was to be - done as plainly as if she saw everything in a picture. She rushed into the - saloon and mounted the companion to the deck. There sat the little group - astern just as she had seen them an hour before, only that the doctor had - fallen asleep under the influence of one of the less pointed of the - major's stories. - </p> - <p> - “God bless my soul!” cried the major, as the girl clutched the back of his - chair. - </p> - <p> - “Good heavens, Miss Gerald, what is the matter?” said Harwood, leaping to - his feet. - </p> - <p> - She pointed to the white wake of the ship. - </p> - <p> - “There—there,” she whispered—“a man—drowning—clinging - to something—a wreck—I saw him!” - </p> - <p> - “Dear me! dear me!” said the major, in a tone of relief, and with a breath - of a smile. - </p> - <p> - But the special correspondent had looked into the girl's face. It was his - business to understand the difference between dreaming and waking. He was - by the side of the officer on watch in a moment. A few words were enough - to startle the officer into acquiescence with the demands of the - “special.” The unwonted sound of the engine-room telegraph was heard, its - tinkle shaking the slumbers of the chief engineer as effectively as if it - had been the thunder of an alarum peal. - </p> - <p> - The stopping of the engine, the blowing off of the steam, and the arrival - of the captain upon the deck, were simultaneous occurrences. The officer's - reply to his chief as he hurried aft did not seem to be very satisfactory, - judging from the manner in which it was received. - </p> - <p> - But Harwood had left the officer to explain the stoppage of the vessel, - and was now kneeling by the side of the chair, back upon which lay the - unconscious form of Daireen, while the doctor was forcing some brandy—all - that remained in the major's tumbler—between her lips, and a young - sailor—the one who had been at the rail in the morning—chafed - her pallid hand. The major was scanning the expanse of water by aid of his - pilot glass, and the quartermaster who had been steering went to the line - of the patent log to haul it in—his first duty at any time on the - stopping of the vessel, to prevent the line—the strain being taken - off it—fouling with the propeller. - </p> - <p> - When the steamer is under weigh it is the work of two sailors to take in - the eighty fathoms of log-line, otherwise, however, the line is of course - quite slack; it was thus rather inexplicable to the quartermaster to find - much more resistance to his first haul than if the vessel were going full - speed ahead. - </p> - <p> - “The darned thing's fouled already,” he murmured for his own satisfaction. - He could not take in a fathom, so great was the resistance. - </p> - <p> - “Hang it all, major,” said the captain, “isn't this too bad? Bringing the - ship to like this, and—ah, here they come! All the ship's company - will be aft in a minute.” - </p> - <p> - “Rum, my boy, very rum,” muttered the sympathetic major. - </p> - <p> - “What's the matter, captain?” said one voice. - </p> - <p> - “Is there any danger?” asked a tremulous second. - </p> - <p> - “If it's a collision or a leak, don't keep it from us, sir,” came a stern - contralto. For in various stages of toilet incompleteness the passengers - were crowding out of the cabin. - </p> - <p> - But before the “unhappy master” could utter a word of reply, the sailor - had touched his cap and reported to the third mate: - </p> - <p> - “Log-line fouled on wreck, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “By gad!” shouted the major, who was twisting the log-line about, and - peering into the water. “By gad, the girl was right! The line has fouled - on some wreck, and there is a body made fast to it.” - </p> - <p> - The captain gave just a single glance in the direction indicated. . - </p> - <p> - “Stand by gig davits and lower away,” he shouted to the watch, who had of - course come aft. - </p> - <p> - The men ran to where the boat was hanging, and loosened the lines. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Heaven preserve us! they are taking to the boats!” cried a female - passenger. - </p> - <p> - “Don't be a fool, my good woman,” said Mrs. Crawford tartly. The major's - wife had come on deck in a most marvellous costume, and she was already - holding a sal-volatile bottle to Daireen's nose, having made a number of - inquiries of Mr. Harwood and the doctor. - </p> - <p> - All the other passengers had crowded to the ship's side, and were watching - the men in the boat cutting at something which had been reached at the end - of the log-line. They could see the broken stump of a mast and the - cross-trees, but nothing further. - </p> - <p> - “They have got it into the boat,” said the major, giving the result of his - observation through the binocular. - </p> - <p> - “For Heaven's sake, ladies, go below!” cried the captain. But no one - moved. - </p> - <p> - “If you don't want to see the ghastly corpse of a drowned man gnawed by - fishes for weeks maybe, you had better go down, ladies,” said the chief - officer. Still no one stirred. - </p> - <p> - The major, who was an observer of nature, smiled and winked sagaciously at - the exasperated captain before he said: - </p> - <p> - “Why should the ladies go down at all? it's a pleasant night, and begad, - sir, a group of nightcaps like this isn't to be got together more than - once in a lifetime.” Before the gallant officer had finished his sentence - the deck was cleared of women; but, of course, the luxury of seeing a dead - body lifted from the boat being too great to be missed, the starboard - cabin ports had many faces opposite them. - </p> - <p> - The doctor left Daireen to the care of Mrs. Crawford, saying that she - would recover consciousness in a few minutes, and he hastened with a - kaross to the top of the boiler, where he had shouted to the men in the - boat to carry the body. - </p> - <p> - The companion-rail having been lowered, it was an easy matter for the four - men to take the body on deck and to lay it upon the tiger-skin before the - doctor, who rubbed his hands—an expression which the seamen - interpreted as meaning satisfaction. - </p> - <p> - “Gently, my men, raise his head—so—throw the light on his - face. By George, he doesn't seem to have suffered from the oysters; - there's hope for him yet.” - </p> - <p> - And the compassionate surgeon began cutting the clothing from the limbs of - the body. - </p> - <p> - “No, don't take the pieces away,” he said to one of the men; “let them - remain here Now dry his arms carefully, and we'll try and get some air - into his lungs, if they're not already past work.” - </p> - <p> - But before the doctor had commenced his operations the ship's gig had been - hauled up once more to the davits, and the steamer was going ahead at slow - speed. - </p> - <p> - “Keep her at slow until the dawn,” said the captain to the officer on - watch. “And let there be a good lookout; there may be others floating upon - the wreck. Call me if the doctor brings the body to life.” - </p> - <p> - The captain did not think it necessary to view the body that had been - snatched from the deep. The captain was a compassionate man and full of - tender feeling; he was exceedingly glad that he had had it in his power to - pick up that body, even with the small probability there was of being able - to restore life to its frozen blood; but he would have been much more - grateful to Providence had it been so willed that it should have been - picked up without the necessity of stopping the engines of the steamer for - nearly a quarter of an hour. It was explained to him that Miss Gerald had - been the first to see the face of the man upon the wreck, but he could - scarcely understand how it was possible for her to have seen it from her - cabin. He was also puzzled to know how it was that the log-line had not - been carried away so soon as it was entangled in such a large mass of - wreck when the steamer was going at full speed. He, however, thought it as - well to resume his broken slumbers without waiting to solve either of - these puzzling questions. - </p> - <p> - But the chief officer who was now on watch, when the deck was once more - deserted—Daireen having been taken down to her cabin—made the - attempt to account for both of these occurrences. He found that the girl's - cabin was not far astern of the companion-rail that had been lowered - during the day, and he saw that, in the confusion of weighing anchor in - the dimness, a large block with its gear which was used in the hauling of - the vegetable baskets aboard, had been allowed to hang down the side of - the ship between the steps of the rail; and upon the hook of the block, - almost touching the water, he found some broken cordage. He knew then that - the hook had caught fast in the cordage of the wreck as the steamer went - past, and the wreck had swung round until it was just opposite the girl's - cabin, when the cordage had given way; not, however, until some of the - motion of the ship had been communicated to the wreck so that there was no - abrupt strain put on the log-line when it had become entangled. It was all - plain to the chief officer, as no doubt it would have been to the captain - had he waited to search out the matter. - </p> - <p> - So soon as the body had been brought aboard the ship all the interest of - the passengers seemed to subside, and the doctor was allowed to pursue his - experiments of resuscitation without inquiry. The chief officer being - engaged at his own business of working out the question of the endurance - of the log-line, and keeping a careful lookout for any other portions of - wreck, had almost forgotten that the doctor and two of the sailors were - applying a series of restoratives to the body of the man who had been - detached from the wreck. It was nearly two hours after he had come on - watch that one of the sailors—the one who had been kneeling by the - side of Daireen—came up to the chief officer presenting Doctor - Campion's compliments, with the information that the man was breathing. - </p> - <p> - In accordance with the captain's instructions, the chief officer knocked - at the cabin door and repeated the message. - </p> - <p> - “Breathing is he?” said the captain rather sleepily. “Very good, Mr. - Holden; I'm glad to hear it. Just call me again in case he should - relapse.” - </p> - <p> - The captain had hitherto, in alluding to the man, made use of the neuter - pronoun, but now that breath was restored he acknowledged his right to a - gender. - </p> - <p> - “Very good, sir,” replied the officer, closing the door. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XV. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Be thy intents wicked or charitable, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Thou com'st in such a questionable shape. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - What may this mean - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - That thou, dead corse, again... - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Revisit'st thus...? - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - I hope your virtues - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Will bring him to his wonted way again.—<i>Hamlet.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was the general - opinion in the cabin that Miss Gerald—the young lady who was in such - an exclusive set—had shown very doubtful taste in being the first to - discover the man upon the wreck. Every one had, of course, heard the - particulars of the matter from the steward's assistants, who had in turn - been in communication with the watch on deck. At any rate, it was felt by - the ladies that it showed exceedingly bad taste in Miss Gerald to take - such steps as eventually led to the ladies appearing on deck in incomplete - toilettes. There was, indeed, a very pronounced feeling against Miss - Gerald; several representatives of the other sections of the cabin society - declaring that they could not conscientiously admit Miss Gerald into their - intimacy. That dreadful designing old woman, the major's wife, might do as - she pleased, they declared, and so might Mrs. Butler and her daughter, who - were only the near relatives of some Colonial Governor, but such - precedents should be by no means followed, the ladies of this section - announced to each other. But as Daireen had never hitherto found it - necessary to fall back upon any of the passengers outside her own set, the - resolution of the others, even if it had come to her ears, would not have - caused her any great despondency. - </p> - <p> - The captain made some inquiries of the doctor in the morning, and learned - that the rescued man was breathing, though still unconscious. Mr. Harwood - showed even a greater anxiety to hear from Mrs. Crawford about Daireen, - after the terrible night she had gone through, and he felt no doubt - proportionately happy when he was told that she was now sleeping, having - passed some hours in feverish excitement. Daireen had described to Mrs. - Crawford how she had seen the face looking up to her from the water, and - Mr. Harwood, hearing this, and making a careful examination of the outside - of the ship in the neighbourhood of Daireen's cabin, came to the same - conclusion as that at which the chief officer had arrived. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford tried to make Mr. Glaston equally interested in her - protégée, but she was scarcely successful. - </p> - <p> - “How brave it was in the dear child, was it not, Mr. Glaston?” she asked. - “Just imagine her glancing casually out of the port—thinking, it - maybe, of her father, who is perhaps dying at the Cape”—the good - lady felt that this bit of poetical pathos might work wonders with Mr. - Glaston—“and then,” she continued, “fancy her seeing that terrible, - ghastly thing in the water beneath her! What must her feelings have been - as she rushed on deck and gave the alarm that caused that poor wretch to - be saved! Wonderful, is it not?” - </p> - <p> - But Mr. Glaston's face was quite devoid of expression on hearing this - powerful narrative. The introduction of the pathos even did not make him - wince; and there was a considerable pause before he said the few words - that he did. - </p> - <p> - “Poor child,” he murmured. “Poor child. It was very melodramatic—terribly - melodramatic; but she is still young, her taste is—ah—plastic. - At least I hope so.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford began to feel that, after all, it was something to have - gained this expression of hope from Mr. Glaston, though her warmth of - feeling did undoubtedly receive a chill from his manner. She did not - reflect that there is a certain etiquette to be observed in the saving of - the bodies as well as the souls of people, and that the aesthetic element, - in the opinion of some people, should enter largely into every scheme of - salvation, corporeal as well as spiritual. - </p> - <p> - The doctor was sitting with Major Crawford when the lady joined them a few - minutes after her conversation with Mr. Glaston, and never had Mrs. - Crawford fancied that her husband's old friend could talk in such an - affectionate way as he now did about the rescued man. She could almost - bring herself to believe that she saw the tears of emotion in his eyes as - he detailed the circumstances of the man's resuscitation. The doctor felt - personally obliged to him for his handsome behaviour in bearing such - testimony to the skill of his resuscitator. - </p> - <p> - When the lady spoke of the possibilities of a relapse, the doctor's eyes - glistened at first, but under the influence of maturer thought, he sighed - and shook his head. No, he knew that there are limits to the generosity of - even a half-strangled man—a relapse was too much to hope for; but - the doctor felt at that instant that if this “case” should see its way to - a relapse, and subsequently to submit to be restored, it would place - itself under a lasting obligation to its physician. - </p> - <p> - Surely, thought Mrs. Crawford, when the doctor talks of the stranger with - such enthusiasm he will go into raptures about Daireen; so she quietly - alluded to the girl's achievement. But the doctor could see no reason for - becoming ecstatic about Miss Gerald. Five minutes with the smelling-bottle - had restored her to consciousness. - </p> - <p> - “Quite a trifle—overstrung nerves, you know,” he said, as he lit - another cheroot. - </p> - <p> - “But think of her bravery in keeping strong until she had told you all - that she had seen!” said the lady. “I never heard of anything so brave! - Just fancy her looking out of the port—thinking of her father - perhaps”—the lady went on to the end of that pathetic sentence of - hers, but it had no effect upon the doctor. - </p> - <p> - “True, very true!” he muttered, looking at his watch. - </p> - <p> - But the major was secretly convulsed for some moments after his wife had - spoken her choice piece of pathos, and though he did not betray himself, - she knew well all that was in his mind, and so turned away without a - further word. So soon as she was out of hearing, the major exchanged - confidential chuckles with his old comrade. - </p> - <p> - “He is not what you'd call a handsome man as he lies at present, Campion,” - remarked Mr. Harwood, strolling up later in the day. “But you did well not - to send him to the forecastle, I think; he has not been a sailor.” - </p> - <p> - “I know it, my boy,” said the doctor. “He is not a handsome man, you say, - and I agree with you that he is not seen to advantage just now; but I made - up my mind an hour after I saw him that he was not for the forecastle, or - even the forecabin.” - </p> - <p> - “I dare say you are right,” said Harwood. “Yes; there is a something in - his look that half drowning could not kill. That was the sort of thing you - felt, eh?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing like it,” said the mild physician. “It was this,” he took out of - his pocket an envelope, from which he extracted a document that he handed - to Harwood. - </p> - <p> - It was an order for four hundred pounds, payable by a certain bank in - England, and granted by the Sydney branch of the Australasian Banking - Company to one Mr. Oswin Markham. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, I see; he is a gentleman,” said Harwood, returning the order. It had - evidently suffered a sea-change, but it had been carefully dried by the - doctor. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, he is a gentleman,” said the doctor. “That is what I remarked when I - found this in a flask in one of his pockets. Sharp thing to do, to keep a - paper free from damp and yet to have it in a buoyant case. Devilish sharp - thing!” - </p> - <p> - “And the man's name is this—Oswin Markham?” said the major. - </p> - <p> - “No doubt about it,” said the doctor. - </p> - <p> - “None whatever; unless he stole the order from the rightful owner, and - meant to get it cashed at his leisure,” remarked Harwood. - </p> - <p> - “Then he must have stolen the shirt, the collar, and the socks of Oswin - Markham,” snarled the doctor. “All these things of his are marked as plain - as red silk can do it.” - </p> - <p> - “Any man who would steal an order for four hundred pounds would not - hesitate about a few toilet necessaries.” - </p> - <p> - “Maybe you'll suggest to the skipper the need to put him in irons as soon - as he is sufficiently recovered to be conscious of an insult,” cried the - doctor in an acrid way that received a sympathetic chuckle from the major. - “Young man, you've got your brain too full of fancies—a devilish - deal, sir; they do well enough retailed for the readers of the <i>Dominant - Trumpeter</i>, but sensible people don't want to hear them.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I won't force them upon you and Crawford, my dear Campion,” said - Harwood, walking away, for he knew that upon some occasions the doctor - should be conciliated, and in the matter of a patient every allowance - should be made for his warmth of feeling. So long as one of his “cases” - paid his skill the compliment of surviving any danger, he spoke well of - the patient; but when one behaved so unhandsomely as to die, it was with - the doctor <i>De mortuis nil nisi malum</i>. Harwood knew this, and so he - walked away. - </p> - <p> - And now that he found himself—or rather made himself—alone, he - thought over all the events of the previous eventful day; but somehow - there did not seem to be any event worth remembering that was not - associated with Daireen Gerald. He recollected how he had watched her when - they had been together among the lovely gardens of the island slope. As - she turned her eyes seaward with an earnest, sad, <i>questioning</i> gaze, - he felt that he had never seen a picture so full of beauty. - </p> - <p> - The words he had spoken to her, telling her that the day he had spent on - the island was the happiest of his life, were true indeed; he had never - felt so happy; and now as he reflected upon his after-words his conscience - smote him for having pretended to her that he was thinking of the place - where he knew her thoughts had carried her: he had seen from her face that - she was dreaming about her Irish home, and he had made her feel that the - recollection of the lough and the mountains was upon his mind also. He - felt now how coarse had been his deception. - </p> - <p> - He then recalled the final scene of the night, when, as he was trying to - pursue his own course of thought, and at the same time pretend to be - listening to the major's thrice-told tale of a certain colonel's conduct - at the Arradambad station, the girl had appeared before them like a - vision. Yes, it was altogether a remarkable day even for a special - correspondent. The reflection upon its events made him very thoughtful - during the entire of this afternoon. Nor was he at all disturbed by the - information Doctor Campion brought vo him just when he was going for his - usual smoke upon the bridge, while the shore of Palma was yet in view not - far astern. - </p> - <p> - “Good fellow he is,” murmured the doctor. “Capital fellow! opened his eyes - just now when I was in his cabin—recovered consciousness in a - moment.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, in a moment?” said Harwood dubiously. “I thought it always needed the - existence of some link of consciousness between the past and the present - to bring about a restoration like this—some familiar sight—some - well-known sound.” - </p> - <p> - “And, by George, you are right, my boy, this time, though you are a - 'special,'” said the doctor, grinning. “Yes, I was standing by the - fellow's bunk when I heard Crawford call for another bottle of soda. - Robinson got it for him, and bang went the cork, of course; a faint smile - stole over the haggard features, my boy, the glassy eyes opened full of - intelligence and with a mine of pleasant recollections. That familiar - sound of the popping of the cork acted as the link you talk of. He saw all - in a moment, and tried to put out his hand to me. 'My boy,' I said, - 'you've behaved most handsomely, and I'll get you a glass of brandy out of - another bottle, but don't you try to speak for another day.' And I got him - a glass from Crawford, though, by George, sir, Crawford grudged it; he - didn't see the sentiment of the thing, sir, and when I tried to explain - it, he said I was welcome to the cork.” - </p> - <p> - “Capital tale for an advertisement of the brandy,” said Harwood. - </p> - <p> - Then the doctor with many smiles hastened to spread abroad the story of - the considerate behaviour of his patient, and Harwood was left to continue - his twilight meditations alone once more. He was sitting in his deck-chair - on the ship's bridge, and he could but dimly hear the laughter and the - chat of the passengers far astern. He did not remain for long in this - dreamy mood of his, for Mrs. Crawford and Daireen Gerald were seen coming - up the rail, and he hastened to meet them. The girl was very pale but - smiling, and in the soft twilight she seemed very lovely. - </p> - <p> - “I am so glad to see you,” he said, as he settled a chair for her. “I - feared a great many things when you did not appear to-day.” - </p> - <p> - “We must not talk too much,” said Mrs. Crawford, who had not expected to - find Mr. Harwood alone in this place. “I brought Miss Gerard up here in - order that she might not be subjected to the gaze of those colonists on - the deck; a little quiet is what she needs to restore her completely from - her shock.” - </p> - <p> - “It was very foolish, I am afraid you think—very foolish of me to - behave as I did,” said Daireen, with a faint little smile. “But I had been - asleep in my cabin, and I—I was not so strong as I should have been. - The next time I hope I shall not be so very stupid.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear Miss Gerald,” said Harwood, “you behaved as a heroine. There is - no woman aboard the ship—Mrs. Crawford of course excepted—who - would have had courage to do what you did.” - </p> - <p> - “And he,” said the girl somewhat eagerly—“he—is he really - safe?—has he recovered? Tell me all, Mr. Harwood.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no!” cried Mrs. Crawford, interposing. “You must not speak a word - about him. Do you want to be thrown into a fresh state of excitement, my - dear, now that you are getting on so nicely?” - </p> - <p> - “But I am more excited remaining as I am in doubt about that poor man. Was - he a sailor, Mr. Harwood?” - </p> - <p> - “It appears-not,” said Harwood. “The doctor, however, is returning; he - will tell all that is safe to be told.” - </p> - <p> - “I really must protest,” said Mrs. Crawford. “Well, I will be a good girl - and not ask for any information whatever,” said Daireen. - </p> - <p> - But she was not destined to remain in complete ignorance on the subject - which might reasonably be expected to interest her, for the doctor on - seeing her hastened up, and, of course, Mrs. Crawford's protest was weak - against his judgment. - </p> - <p> - “My dear young lady,” he cried, shaking Daireen warmly by the hand. “You - are anxious to know the sequel of the romance of last night, I am sure?” - </p> - <p> - “No, no, Doctor Campion,” said Daireen almost mischievously; “Mrs. - Crawford says I must hear nothing, and think about nothing, all this - evening. Did you not say so, Mrs. Crawford?” - </p> - <p> - “My dear child, Doctor Campion is supposed to know much better than myself - how you should be treated in your present nervous condition. If he chooses - to talk to you for an hour or two hours about drowning wretches, he may do - so on his own responsibility.” - </p> - <p> - “Drowning wretches!” said the doctor. “My dear madam, you have not been - told all, or you would not talk in this way. He is no drowning wretch, but - a gentleman; look at this—ah, I forgot it's not light enough for you - to see the document, but Harwood there will tell you all that it - contains.” - </p> - <p> - “And what does that wonderful document contain, Mr. Harwood?” asked Mrs. - Crawford. “Tell us, please, and we shall drop the subject.” - </p> - <p> - “That document,” said Harwood, with affected solemnity; “it is a guarantee - of the respectability of the possessor; it is a bank order for four - hundred pounds, payable to one Oswin Markham, and it was, I understand, - found upon the person of the man who has just been resuscitated through - the skill of our good friend Doctor Campion.” - </p> - <p> - “Now you will not call him a poor wretch, I am sure,” said the doctor. “He - has now fully recovered consciousness, and, you see, he is a gentleman.” - </p> - <p> - “You see that, no doubt, Mrs. Crawford,” said Harwood, in a tone that made - the good physician long to have him for a few weeks on the sick list—the - way the doctor had of paying off old scores. - </p> - <p> - “Don't be sarcastic, Mr. Harwood,” said Daireen. Then she added, “What did - you say the name was?—Oswin Markham? I like it—I like it very - much.” - </p> - <p> - “Hush,” said Mrs. Crawford. “Here is Mr. Glaston.” And it was indeed Mr. - Glaston who ascended the rail with a languor of motion in keeping with the - hour of twilight. With a few muttered words the doctor walked away. - </p> - <p> - “I hear,” said Mr. Glaston, after he had shaken hands with Daireen—“I - hear that there was some wreck or other picked up last night with a man - clinging to it—a dreadfully vulgar fellow he must be to carry about - with him a lot of money—a man with a name like what one would find - attached to the hero of an East End melodrama.” - </p> - <p> - There was a rather lengthened silence in that little group before Harwood - spoke. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he said; “it struck me that it showed very questionable taste in - the man to go about flaunting his money in the face of every one he met. - As for his name—well, perhaps we had better not say anything about - his name. You recollect what Tennyson makes Sir Tristram say to his Isolt—I - don't mean you, Glaston, I know you only read the pre-Raphaelites— - </p> - <p> - “Let be thy Mark, seeing he is not thine.” - </p> - <p> - But no one seemed to remember the quotation, or, at any rate, to see the - happiness of its present application. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVI. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - It beckons you to go away with it, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - As if it some impartment did desire - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - To you alone. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - ... Weigh what loss - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - If with too credent ear you list his songs - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Or lose your heart... - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Fear it, Ophelia, fear it.—<i>Hamlet.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T could hardly be - expected that there should be in the mind of Daireen Gerald a total - absence of interest in the man who by her aid had been rescued from the - deep. To be sure, her friend Mrs. Crawford had given her to understand - that people of taste might pronounce the episode melodramatic, and as this - word sounded very terrible to Daireen, as, indeed, it did to Mrs. Crawford - herself, whose apprehension of its meaning was about as vague as the - girl's, she never betrayed the anxiety she felt for the recovery of this - man, who was, she thought, equally accountable for the dubious taste - displayed in the circumstances of his rescue. She began to feel, as Mr. - Glaston in his delicacy carefully refrained from alluding to this night of - terror, and as Mrs. Crawford assumed a solemn expression of countenance - upon the least reference to the girl's participation in the recovery of - the man with the melodramatic name, that there was a certain bond of - sympathy between herself and this Oswin Markham; and now and again when - she found the doctor alone, she ventured to make some inquiries regarding - him. In the course of a few days she learned a good deal. - </p> - <p> - “He is behaving handsomely—most handsomely, my dear,” said the - doctor, one afternoon about a week after the occurrence. “He eats - everything that is given to him and drinks in a like proportion.” - </p> - <p> - The girl felt that this was truly noble on the part of the man, but it was - scarcely the exact type of information she would have liked. - </p> - <p> - “And he—is he able to speak yet?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “Speak? yes, to be sure. He asked me how he came to be picked up, and I - told him,” continued the doctor, with a smile of gallantry of which - Daireen did not believe him capable, “that he was seen by the most - charming young lady in the world,—yes, yes, I told him that, though - I ran a chance of retarding his recovery by doing so.” This was, of - course, quite delightful to hear, but Daireen wanted to know even more - about the stranger than the doctor's speech had conveyed to her. - </p> - <p> - “The poor fellow was a long time in the water, I suppose?” she said - artfully, trying to find out all that the doctor had learned. - </p> - <p> - “He was four days upon that piece of wreck,” said the doctor. - </p> - <p> - The girl gave a start that seemed very like a shudder, as she repeated the - words, “Four days.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; he was on his way home from Australia, where he had been living for - some years, and the vessel he was in was commanded by some incompetent and - drunken idiot who allowed it to be struck by a tornado of no extraordinary - violence, and to founder in mid-ocean. As our friend was a passenger, he - says, the crew did not think it necessary to invite him to have a seat in - one of the boats, a fact that accounts for his being alive to-day, for - both boats were swamped and every soul sent to the bottom in his view. He - tells me he managed to lash a broken topmast to the stump of the mainmast - that had gone by the board, and to cut the rigging so that he was left - drifting when the hull went down. That's all the story, my dear, only we - know what a hard time of it he must have had during the four days.” - </p> - <p> - “A hard time—a hard time,” Daireen repeated musingly, and without a - further word she turned away. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Glaston, who had been pleased to take a merciful view of her recent - action of so pronounced a type, found that his gracious attempts to reform - her plastic taste did not, during this evening, meet with that - appreciation of which they were undoubtedly deserving. Had he been aware - that all the time his eloquent speech was flowing on the subject of the - consciousness of hues—a theme attractive on account of its delicacy—the - girl had before her eyes only a vision of heavy blue skies overhanging - dark green seas terrible in loneliness—the monotony of endless waves - broken only by the appearance in the centre of the waste of a broken mast - and a ghastly face and clinging lean hands upon it, he would probably have - withdrawn the concession he had made to Mrs. Crawford regarding the taste - of her protégée. - </p> - <p> - And indeed, Daireen was not during any of these days thinking about much - besides this Oswin Markham, though she never mentioned his name even to - the doctor. At nights when she would look out over the flashing - phosphorescent waters, she would evermore seem to see that white face - looking up at her; but now she neither started nor shuddered as she was - used to do for a few nights after she had seen the real face there. It - seemed to her now as a face that she knew—the face of a friend - looking into her face from the dim uncertain surface of the sea of a - dream. - </p> - <p> - One morning a few days after her most interesting chat with Doctor - Campion, she got up even earlier than usual—before, in fact, the - healthy pedestrian gentleman had completed his first mile, and went on - deck. She had, however, just stepped out of the companion when she heard - voices and a laugh or two coming from the stern. She glanced in the - direction of the sounds and remained motionless at the cabin door. A group - consisting of the major, the doctor, and the captain of the steamer were - standing in the neighbourhood of the wheel; but upon a deck-chair, amongst - a heap of cushions, a stranger was lying back—a man with a thin - brown face and large, somewhat sunken eyes, and a short brown beard and - moustache; he was holding a cigar in the fingers of his left hand that - drooped over the arm of the chair—a long, white hand—and he - was looking up to the face of the major, who was telling one of his usual - stories with his accustomed power. None of the other passengers were on - deck, with the exception of the pedestrian, who came into view every few - minutes as he reached the after part of the ship. - </p> - <p> - She stood there at the door of the companion without any motion, looking - at that haggard face of the stranger. She saw a faint smile light up his - deep eyes and pass over his features as the major brought out the full - piquancy of his little anecdote, which was certainly not <i>virginibus - puerisque</i>. Then she turned and went down again to her cabin without - seeing how a young sailor was standing gazing at her from the passage of - the ship's bridge. She sat down in her cabin and waited until the ringing - of the second bell for breakfast. - </p> - <p> - “You are getting dreadfully lazy, my dear,” said Mrs. Crawford, as she - took her seat by the girl's side. “Why were you not up as usual to get an - appetite for breakfast?” Then without waiting for an answer, she - whispered, “Do you see the stranger at the other side of the table? That - is our friend Mr. Oswin Markham; his name does not sound so queer when you - come to know him. The doctor was right, Daireen: he is a gentleman.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you have——” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I have made his acquaintance this morning already. I hope Mr. - Glaston may not think that it was my fault.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Glaston?” said Daireen. . - </p> - <p> - “Yes; you know he is so sensitive in matters like this; he might fancy - that it would be better to leave this stranger by himself; but considering - that he will be parting from the ship in a week, I don't think I was wrong - to let my husband present me. At any rate he is a gentleman—that is - one satisfaction.” - </p> - <p> - Daireen felt that there was every reason to be glad that she was not - placed in the unhappy position of having taken steps for the rescue of a - person not accustomed to mix in good society. But she did not even once - glance down towards the man whose standing had been by a competent judge - pronounced satisfactory. She herself talked so little, however, that she - could hear him speak in answer to the questions some good-natured people - at the bottom of the table put to him, regarding the name of his ship and - the circumstances of the catastrophe that had come upon it. She also heard - the young lady who had the peculiar fancy for blue and pink beg of him to - do her the favour of writing his name in her birthday book. - </p> - <p> - During the hours that elapsed before tiffin Daireen sat with a novel in - her hand, and she knew that the stranger was on the ship's bridge with - Major Crawford. The major found his company exceedingly agreeable, for the - old officer had unfortunately been prodigal of his stories through the - first week of the voyage, and lately he had been reminded that he was - repeating himself when he had begun a really choice anecdote. This Mr. - Markham, however, had never been in India, so that the major found in him - an appreciative audience, and for the satisfactory narration of a - chronicle of Hindustan an appreciative audience is an important - consideration. The major, however, appeared alone at tiffin, for Mr. - Markham, he said, preferred lying in the sun on the bridge to eating salad - in the cabin. The young lady with the birthday book seemed a little - disappointed, for she had just taken the bold step of adding to her - personal decorations a large artificial moss-rose with glass beads sewed - all about it in marvellous similitude to early dew, and it would not bear - being trifled with in the matter of detaching from her dress. - </p> - <p> - Whether or not Mrs. Crawford had conferred with Mr. Glaston on the subject - of the isolation of Mr. Markham, Daireen, on coming to sit down to the - dinner-table, found Mrs. Crawford and Mr. Markham standing in the saloon - just at the entrance to her cabin. She could feel herself flushing as she - looked up to the man's haggard face while Mrs. Crawford pronounced their - names, and she knew that the hand she put in his thin fingers was - trembling. Neither spoke a single word: they only looked at each other. - Then the doctor came forward with some remark that Daireen did not seem to - hear, and soon the table was surrounded with the passengers. - </p> - <p> - “He says he feels nearly as strong as he ever did,” whispered Mrs. - Crawford to the girl as they sat down together. “He will be able to leave - us at St. Helena next week without doubt.” - </p> - <p> - On the same evening Daireen was sitting in her usual place far astern. The - sun had set some time, and the latitude being only a few degrees south of - the equator, the darkness had already almost come down upon the waters. It - was dimmer than twilight, but not the solid darkness of a tropical night. - The groups of passengers had all dispersed or gone forward, and the only - sounds were the whisperings of the water in the wake of the steamer, and - the splashing of the flying fish. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly from the cabin there came the music of the piano, and a low voice - singing to its accompaniment—so faint it came that Daireen knew no - one on deck except herself could hear the voice, for she was sitting just - beside the open fanlight of the saloon; but she heard every word that was - sung: - </p> - <h3> - I. - </h3> - <p class="indent15"> - When the vesper gold has waned: - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - When the passion-hues of eve - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Breathe themselves away and leave - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Blue the heaven their crimson stained, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - But one hour the world doth grieve, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - For the shadowy skies receive - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Stars so gracious-sweet that they - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Make night more beloved than day. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <h3> - II - </h3> - <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 las gone. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Of all joys has one remained? - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Stays one gladness I have known? - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - 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 /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T ended so faintly - that Daireen Gerald could not tell when the last note had come. She felt - that she was in a dream and the sounds she had heard were but a part of - her dream—sounds? were these sounds, or merely the effect of - breathing the lovely shadowy light that swathed the waters? The sounds - seemed to her the twilight expressed in music. - </p> - <p> - Then in the silence she heard a voice speaking her name. She turned and - saw Oswin Markham standing beside her. - </p> - <p> - “Miss Gerald,” he said, “I owe my life to you. I thank you for it.” - </p> - <p> - He could hardly have expressed himself more simply if he had been thanking - her for passing him a fig at dinner, and yet his words thrilled her. - </p> - <p> - “No, no; do not say that,” she said, in a startled voice. “I did nothing—nothing - that any one else might not have done. Oh, do not talk of it, please.” - </p> - <p> - “I will not,” he said slowly, after a pause. “I will never talk of it - again. I was a fool to speak of it to you. I know now that you understand—that - there is no need for me to open my lips to you.” - </p> - <p> - “I do indeed,” she said, turning her eyes upon his face. “I do - understand.” She put out her hand, and he took it in his own—not - fervently, not with the least expression of emotion, his fingers closed - over it. A long time passed before she saw his face in front of her own, - and felt his eyes looking into her eyes as his words came in a whisper, - “Child—child, there is a bond between us—a bond whose token is - silence.” - </p> - <p> - She kept her eyes fixed upon his as he spoke, and long after his words had - come. She knew he had spoken the truth: there was a bond between them. She - understood it. - </p> - <p> - She saw the gaunt face with its large eyes close to her own; her own eyes - filled with tears, and then came the first token of their bond—silence. - She felt his grasp unloosed, she heard him moving away, and she knew that - she was alone in the silence. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVII. - </h2> - <p class="indent20"> - Give him heedful note; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - For I mine eyes will rivet to his face, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And after we will both our judgments join. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart: but it is no - matter. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - You must needs have heard, how I am punish'd - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - With sore distraction. What I have done - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - I here proclaim was madness.—<i>Hamlet.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was very - generally thought that it was a fortunate circumstance for Mr. Oswin - Markham that there chanced to be in the fore-cabin of the steamer an - enterprising American speculator who was taking out some hundred dozens of - ready-made garments for disposal to the diamond miners—and an equal - quantity of less durable clothing, in which he had been induced to invest - some money with a view to the ultimate adoption of clothing by the Kafir - nation. He explained how he had secured the services of a hard-working - missionary whom he had sent as agent in advance to endeavour to convince - the natives that if they ever wished to gain a footing among great - nations, the auxiliary of clothing towards the effecting of their object - was worth taking into consideration. When the market for these garments - would thus be created, the speculator hoped to arrive on the scene and - make a tolerable sum of money. In rear of his missionary, he had scoured - most of the islands of the Pacific with very satisfactory results; and he - said he felt that, if he could but prevail upon his missionary in advance - to keep steady, a large work of evangelisation could be done in South - Africa. - </p> - <p> - By the aid of this enterprising person, Mr. Markham was able to clothe - himself without borrowing from any of the passengers. But about the - payment for his purchases there seemed likely to be some difficulty. The - bank order for four hundred pounds was once again in the possession of Mr. - Markham, but it was payable in England, and how then could he effect the - transfer of the few pounds he owed the American speculator, when he was to - leave the vessel at St. Helena? There was no agency of the bank at this - island, though there was one at the Cape, and thus the question of payment - became somewhat difficult to solve. - </p> - <p> - “Do you want to leave the craft at St. Helena, mister?” asked the - American, stroking his chin thoughtfully. - </p> - <p> - “I do,” said Mr. Markham. “I must leave at the island and take the first - ship to England.” - </p> - <p> - “It's the awkwardest place on God's footstool, this St. Helena, isn't it?” - said the American. - </p> - <p> - “I don't see that it is; why do you say so?” - </p> - <p> - “Only that I don't see why you want so partickler to land thar, mister. - Maybe you'll change yer mind, eh?” - </p> - <p> - “I have said that I must part from this ship there,” exclaimed Mr. Markham - almost impatiently. “I must get this order reduced to money somehow.” - </p> - <p> - “Wal, I reckon that's about the point, mister.” said the speculator. “But - you see if you want to fly it as you say, you'll not breeze about that - it's needful for you to cut the craft before you come to the Cape. I'd - half a mind to try and trade with you for that bit of paper ten minutes - ago, but I reckon that's not what's the matter with me now. No, <i>sir</i>; - if you want to get rid of that paper without much trouble, just you give - out that you don't care if you do go on to the Cape; maybe a nibble will - come from that.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know what you mean, my good fellow,” said Markham; “but I can - only repeat that I will not go on to the Cape. I shall get the money - somehow and pay you before I leave, for surely the order is as good as - money to any one living in the midst of civilisation. I don't suppose a - savage would understand it, but I can't see what objection any one in - business could make to receiving it at its full value.” - </p> - <p> - The American screwed up his mouth in a peculiar fashion, and smiled in a - still more peculiar fashion. He rather fancied he had a small piece of - tobacco in his waistcoat pocket, nor did the result of a search show that - he was mistaken; he extracted the succulent morsel and put it into his - mouth. Then he winked at Mr. Markham, put his hands in his pockets, and - walked slowly away without a word. - </p> - <p> - Markham looked after him with a puzzled expression. He did not know what - the man meant to convey by his nods and his becks and his wreathed smiles. - But just at this moment Mr. Harwood came up; he had of course previously - made the acquaintance of Markham. - </p> - <p> - “I suppose we shall soon be losing you?” said Harwood, offering him a - cigar. “You said, I think, that you would be leaving us at St. Helena?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I leave at St. Helena, and we shall be there in a few days. You see, - I am now nearly as strong as ever, thanks to Campion, and it is important - for me to get to England at once.” - </p> - <p> - “No doubt,” said Harwood; “your relatives will be very anxious if they - hear of the loss of the vessel you were in.” - </p> - <p> - Markham gave a little laugh, as he said, “I have no relatives; and as for - friends—well, I suppose I shall have a number now.” - </p> - <p> - “Now?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; the fact is I was on my way home from Australia to take up a certain - property which my father left to me in England. He died six months ago, - and the solicitors for the estate sent me out a considerable sum of money - in case I should need it in Australia—this order for four hundred - pounds is what remains of it.” - </p> - <p> - “I can now easily understand your desire to be at home and settled down,” - said Harwood. - </p> - <p> - “I don't mean to settle down,” replied Markham. “There are a good many - places to be seen in the world, small as it is.” - </p> - <p> - “A man who has knocked about in the Colonies is generally glad to settle - down at home,” remarked Harwood. - </p> - <p> - “No doubt that is the rule, but I fear I am all awry so far as rules are - concerned. I haven't allowed my life to be subject to many rules, - hitherto. Would to God I had! It is not a pleasant recollection for a son - to go through life with, Harwood, that his father has died without - becoming reconciled to him—especially when he knows that his father - has died leaving him a couple of thousands a year.” - </p> - <p> - “And you——” - </p> - <p> - “I am such a son,” said Markham, turning round suddenly. “I did all that I - could to make my father's life miserable till—a climax came, and I - found myself in Australia three years ago with an allowance sufficient to - keep me from ever being in want. But I forget, I'm not a modern Ancient - Mariner, wandering about boring people with my sad story.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Harwood, “you are not, I should hope. Nor am I so pressed for - time just now as the wedding guest. You did not go in for a sheep-run in - Australia?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing of the sort,” laughed the other. “The only thing I went in for - was getting through my allowance, until that letter came that sobered me—that - letter telling me that my father was dead, and that every penny he had - possessed was mine. Harwood, you have heard of people's hair turning white - in a few hours, but you have not often heard of natures changing from - black to white in a short space; believe me it was so with me. The idea - that theologians used to have long ago about souls passing from earth to - heaven in a moment might well be believed by me, knowing as I do how my - soul was transformed by that letter. I cast my old life behind me, though - I did not tell any one about me what had happened. I left my companions - and said to them that I was going up country. I did go up country, but I - returned in a few days and got aboard the first ship that was sailing for - England, and—here I am.” - </p> - <p> - “And you mean to renew your life of wandering when you reach England?” - said Harwood, after a pause. - </p> - <p> - “It is all that there is left for me,” said the man bitterly, though a - change in his tone would have made his words seem very pitiful. “I am not - such a fool as to fancy that a man can sow tares and reap wheat. The - spring of my life is over, and also the summer, the seed-time and the - ripening; shall the harvest be delayed then? No, I am not such a fool.” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot see that you might not rest at home,” said Harwood. “Surely you - have some associations in England.” - </p> - <p> - “Not one that is not wretched.” - </p> - <p> - “But a man of good family with some money is always certain to make new - associations for himself, no matter what his life has been. Marriage, for - instance; it is, I think, an exceedingly sure way of squaring a fellow up - in life.” - </p> - <p> - “A very sure way indeed,” laughed Markham. “Never mind; in another week I - shall be away from this society which has already become so pleasant to - me. Perhaps I shall knock up against you in some of the strange places of - the earth, Harwood.” - </p> - <p> - “I heartily hope so,” said the other. “But I still cannot see why you - should not come on with us to the Cape. The voyage will completely restore - you, you can get your money changed there, and a steamer of this company's - will take you away two days after you land.” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot remain aboard this steamer,” said Markham quickly. “I must leave - at St. Helena.” Then he walked away with that shortness of ceremony which - steamer voyagers get into a habit of showing to each other without giving - offence. - </p> - <p> - “Poor beggar!” muttered Harwood. “Wrecked in sight of the haven—a - pleasant haven—yes, if he is not an uncommonly good actor.” He - turned round from where he was leaning over the ship's side smoking, and - saw the man with whom he had been talking seated in his chair by the side - of Daireen Gerald. He watched them for some time—for a long time—until - his cigar was smoked to the very end. He looked over the side thoughtfully - as he dropped the remnant and heard its little hiss in the water; then he - repeated his words, “a wreck.” Once more he glanced astern, and then he - added thoughtfully, “Yes, he is right; he had much better part at St. - Helena—very much better.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Markham seemed quite naturally to have found his place in Mrs. - Crawford's set, exclusive though it was; for somehow aboard ship a man - amalgamates only with that society for which he is suited; a man is seldom - to be found out of place on account of certain considerations such as one - meets on shore. Not even Mr. Glaston could raise any protest against Mr. - Markham's right to take a place in the midst of the elect of the cabin. - But the young lady in whose birthday book Mr. Markham had inscribed his - name upon the first day of his appearance at the table, thought it very - unkind of him to join the band who had failed to appreciate her toilet - splendours. - </p> - <p> - During the day on which he gave Harwood his brief autobiographical - outline, Mr. Oswin Markham was frequently by the side of Miss Gerald and - Mrs. Crawford. But towards night the major felt that it would be unjust to - allow him to be defrauded of the due amount of narratory entertainment so - necessary for his comfort; and with these excellent intentions drew him - away from the others of the set, and, sitting on the secluded bridge, - brought forth from the abundant resources of his memory a few well-defined - anecdotes of that lively Arradambad station. But all the while the major - was narrating the stories he could see that Markham's soul was otherwhere, - and he began to be disappointed in Mr. Markham. - </p> - <p> - “I mustn't bore you, Markham, my boy,” he said as he rose, after having - whiled away about two hours of the night in this agreeable occupation. - “No, I mustn't bore you, and you look, upon my soul, as if you had been - suffering.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no, I assure you, I never enjoyed anything more than that story of—of—the - Surgeon-General and the wife of—of—the Commissary.” - </p> - <p> - “The Adjutant-General, you mean,” interrupted the major. - </p> - <p> - “Of course, yes, the Adjutant; a deucedly good story!” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, not bad, is it? But there goes six bells; I must think about turning - in. Come and join me in a glass of brandy-and-water.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no; not to-night—not to-night. The fact is I feel—I feel - queer.” - </p> - <p> - “You're not quite set on your feet yet, my boy,” said the major - critically. “Take care of yourself.” And he walked away, wondering if it - was possible that he had been deceived in his estimate of the nature of - Mr. Markham. - </p> - <p> - But Mr. Markham continued sitting alone in the silence of the deserted - deck. His thoughts were truly otherwhere. He lay back upon his seat and - kept his eyes fixed upon the sky—the sky of stars towards which he - had looked in agony for those four nights when nothing ever broke in upon - the dread loneliness of the barren sea but those starlights. The terrible - recollection of every moment he had passed returned to him. - </p> - <p> - Then he thought how he had heard of men becoming, through sufferings such - as his, oblivious of everything of their past life—men who were thus - enabled to begin life anew without being racked by any dread memories, the - agony that they had endured being acknowledged by Heaven as expiation of - their past deeds. That was justice, he felt, and if this justice had been - done to these men, why had it been withheld from him? - </p> - <p> - “Could God Himself have added to what I endured?” he said, in passionate - bitterness. “God! did I not suffer until my agony had overshot its mark by - destroying in me the power of feeling agony—my agony consumed - itself; I was dead—dead; and yet I am denied the power of beginning - my new life under the conditions which are my due. What more can God want - of man than his life? have I not paid that debt daily for four days?” He - rose from his chair and stood upright upon the deck with clenched hands - and lips. “It is past,” he said, after a long pause. “From this hour I - throw the past beneath my feet. It is my right to forget all, and—I - have forgotten all—all.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Harwood had truly reason to feel surprised when, on the following day, - Oswin Markham came up to him, and said quietly: - </p> - <p> - “I believe you are right, Harwood: after all, it would be foolish for me - to part from the ship at St. Helena. I have decided to take your advice - and run on to the Cape.” - </p> - <p> - Harwood looked at him for a few moments before he answered slowly: - </p> - <p> - “Ah, you have decided.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; you see I am amenable to reason: I acknowledge the wisdom of my - counsellors.” But Harwood made no answer, only continued with his eyes - fixed upon his face. “Hang it all,” exclaimed Markham, “can't you - congratulate me upon my return to the side of reason? Can't you - acknowledge that you have been mistaken in me—that you find I am not - so pig-headed as you supposed?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Harwood; “you are not pig-headed.” And, taking all things into - consideration, it can hardly be denied that Mr. Oswin Markham's claim to - be exempted from the class of persons called pig-headed was well founded. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVIII. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - 'Tis told me he hath very oft of late - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Given private time to you: and you yourself - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Have of your audience been most free and bounteous. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?—<i>Hamlet</i>. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>RS. Crawford felt - that she was being unkindly dealt with by Fate in many matters. She had - formed certain plans on coming aboard the steamer and on taking in at a - glance the position of every one about her—it was her habit to do so - on the occasion of her arrival at any new station in the Indian Empire—and - hitherto she had generally had the satisfaction of witnessing the success - of her plans; but now she began to fear that if things continued to - diverge so widely from the paths which it was natural to expect them to - have kept, her skilful devices would be completely overthrown. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford had within the first few hours of the voyage communicated to - her husband her intention of surprising Colonel Gerald on the arrival of - his daughter at the Cape; for he could scarcely fail to be surprised and, - of course, gratified, if he were made aware of the fact that his daughter - had conceived an attachment for a young man so distinguished in many ways - as the son of the Bishop of the Calapash Islands and Metropolitan of the - Salamander Archipelago—the style and titles of the father of Mr. - Glaston. - </p> - <p> - But Daireen, instead of showing herself a docile subject and ready to act - according to the least suggestion of one who was so much wiser and more - experienced than herself, had begun to think and to act most waywardly. - Though she had gone ashore at Madeira contrary to Mr. Glaston's advice, - and had even ventured to assert, in the face of Mr. Glaston's - demonstration to the contrary, that she had spent a pleasant day, yet Mrs. - Crawford saw that it would be quite possible, by care and thoughtfulness - in the future, to overcome all the unhappy influences her childishness - would have upon the mind of Mr. Glaston. - </p> - <p> - Being well aware of this, she had for some days great hope of her - protégée; but then Daireen had apparently cast to the winds all her sense - of duty to those who were qualified to instruct her, for she had not only - disagreed from Mr. Glaston upon a theory he had expressed regarding the - symbolism of a certain design having for its chief elements sections of - pomegranates and conventionalised daisies—Innocence allured by - Ungovernable Passion was the parable preached through the union of some - tones of sage green and saffron, Mr. Glaston assured the circle whom he - had favoured with his views on this subject—but she had also laughed - when Mr. Harwood made some whispered remark about the distressing - diffusion of jaundice through the floral creation. - </p> - <p> - This was very sad to Mrs. Crawford. She was nearly angry with Daireen, and - if she could have afforded it, she would have been angry with Mr. Harwood; - she was, however, mindful of the influence of the letters she hoped the - special correspondent of the <i>Dominant Trumpeter</i> would be writing - regarding the general satisfaction that was felt throughout the colonies - of South Africa that the Home Government had selected so efficient and - trustworthy an officer to discharge the duties in connection with the Army - Boot Commission, so she could not be anything but most friendly towards - Mr. Harwood. - </p> - <p> - Then it was a great grief to Mrs. Crawford to see the man who, though - undoubtedly well educated and even cultured, was still a sort of - adventurer, seating himself more than once by the side of Daireen on the - deck, and to notice that the girl talked with him even when Mr. Glaston - was near—Mr. Glaston, who had referred to his sudden arrival aboard - the ship as being melodramatic. But on the day preceding the expected - arrival of the steamer at St. Helena, the well-meaning lady began to feel - almost happy once more, for she recollected how fixed had been Mr. - Markham's determination to leave the steamer at the island. Being almost - happy, she thought she might go so far as to express to the man the grief - which reflecting upon his departure excited. - </p> - <p> - “We shall miss you from our little circle, I can assure you, Mr. Markham,” - she said. “Your coming was so—so”—she thought of a substitute - for melodramatic—“so unexpected, and so—well, almost romantic, - that indeed it has left an impression upon all of us. Try and get into a - room in the hotel at James Town that the white ants haven't devoured; I - really envy you the delicious water-cress you will have every day.” - </p> - <p> - “You will be spared the chance of committing that sin, Mrs. Crawford, - though I fear the penance which will be imposed upon you for having even - imagined it will be unjustly great. The fact is, I have been so weak as to - allow myself to be persuaded by Doctor Campion and Harwood to go on to the - Cape.” - </p> - <p> - “To go on to the Cape!” exclaimed the lady. - </p> - <p> - “To go on to the Cape, Mrs. Crawford; so you see you will be bored with me - for another week.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford looked utterly bewildered, as, indeed, she was. Her smile - was very faint as she said: - </p> - <p> - “Ah, how nice; you have been persuaded. Ah, very pleasant it will be; but - how one may be deceived in judging of another's character! I really formed - the impression that you were firmness itself, Mr. Markham!” - </p> - <p> - “So I am, Mrs. Crawford, except when my inclination tends in the opposite - direction to my resolution; then, I assure you, I can be led with a strand - of floss.” - </p> - <p> - This was, of course, very pleasant chat, and with the clink of compliment - about it, but it was anything but satisfactory to the lady to whom it was - addressed. She by no means felt in the mood for listening to mere - colloquialisms, even though they might be of the most brilliant nature, - which Mr. Markham's certainly were not. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I fancied that you were firmness itself,” she repeated. “But you - allowed your mind to be changed by—by the doctor and Mr. Harwood.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, not wholly, to say the truth, Mrs. Crawford,” he interposed. “It is - pitiful to have to confess that I am capable of being influenced by a - monetary matter; but so it is: the fact is, if I were to land now at St. - Helena, I should be not only penniless myself, but I should be obliged - also to run in debt for these garments that my friend Phineas F. Fulton of - Denver City supplied me with, not to speak of what I feel I owe to the - steamer itself; so I think it is better for me to get my paper money - turned into cash at the Cape, and then hurry homewards.” - </p> - <p> - “No doubt you understand your own business,” said the lady, smiling - faintly as she walked away. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Oswin Markham watched her for some moments in a thoughtful way. He had - known for a considerable time that the major's wife understood her - business, at any rate, and that she was also quite capable of - comprehending—nay, of directing as well—the business of every - member of her social circle. But how was it possible, he asked himself, - that she should have come to look upon his remaining for another week - aboard the steamer as a matter of concern? He was a close enough observer - to be able to see from her manner that she did so; but he could not - understand how she should regard him as of any importance in the - arrangement of her plans for the next week, whatever they might be. - </p> - <p> - But Mrs. Crawford, so soon as she found herself by the side of Daireen in - the evening, resolved to satisfy herself upon the subject of the - influences which had been brought to bear upon Mr. Oswin Markham, causing - his character for determination to be lost for ever. - </p> - <p> - Daireen was sitting alone far astern, and had just finished directing some - envelopes for letters to be sent home the next day from St. Helena. - </p> - <p> - “What a capital habit to get into of writing on that little case on your - knee!” said Mrs. Crawford. “You have been on deck all day, you see, while - the other correspondents are shut down in the saloon. You have had a good - deal to tell the old people at that wonderful Irish lake of yours since - you wrote at Madeira.” - </p> - <p> - Daireen thought of all she had written regarding Standish, to prevent his - father becoming uneasy about him. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, yes, I have had a good deal of news that will interest them,” she - said. “I have told them that the Atlantic is not such a terrible place - after all. Why, we have not had even a breeze yet.” - </p> - <p> - “No, <i>we</i> have not, but you should not forget, Daireen, the tornado - that at least one ship perished in.” She looked gravely at the girl, - though she felt very pleased indeed to know that her protégée had not - remembered this particular storm. “You have mentioned in your letters, I - hope, how Mr. Markham was saved?” - </p> - <p> - “I believe I devoted an entire page to Mr. Markham,” Daireen replied with - a smile. - </p> - <p> - “That is right, my dear. You have also said, I am sure, how we all hope he - is—a—a gentleman.” - </p> - <p> - “<i>Hope?</i>” said Daireen quickly. Then she added after a pause, “No, - Mrs. Crawford, I don't think I said that. I only said that he would be - leaving us to-morrow.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford's nicely sensitive ear detected, she fancied, a tinge of - regret in the girl's last tone. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, he told you that he had made up his mind to leave the ship at St. - Helena, did he not?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “Of course he is to leave us there, Mrs. Crawford. Did you not understand - so?” - </p> - <p> - “I did indeed; but I am disappointed in Mr. Markham. I thought that he was - everything that is firm. Yes, I am disappointed in him.” - </p> - <p> - “How?” said Daireen, with a little flush and an anxious movement of her - eyes. “How do you mean he has disappointed you?” - </p> - <p> - “He is not going to leave us at St. Helena, Daireen; he is coming on with - us to the Cape.” - </p> - <p> - With sorrow and dismay Mrs. Crawford noticed Daireen's face undergo a - change from anxiety to pleasure; nor did she allow the little flush that - came to the girl's forehead to escape her observation. These changes of - countenance were almost terrifying to the lady. “It is the first time I - have had my confidence in him shaken,” she added. “In spite of what Mr. - Harwood said of him I had not the least suspicion of this Mr. Markham, but - now——” - </p> - <p> - “What did! Mr. Harwood say of him?” asked Daireen, with a touch of scorn - in her voice. - </p> - <p> - “You need not get angry, Daireen, my child,” replied Mrs. Crawford. - </p> - <p> - “Angry, Mrs. Crawford? How could you fancy I was angry? Only what right - had this Mr. Harwood to say anything about Mr. Markham? Perhaps Mr. - Glaston was saying something too. I thought that as Mr. Markham was a - stranger every one here would treat him with consideration, and yet, you - see——” - </p> - <p> - “Good gracious, Daireen, what can you possibly mean?” cried Mrs. Crawford. - “Not a soul has ever treated Mr. Markham except in good taste from the day - he came aboard this vessel. Of course young men will talk, especially - young newspaper men, and more especially young <i>Dominant. Trumpeter</i> - men. For myself, you saw how readily I admitted Mr. Markham into our set, - though you will allow that, all things considered, I need not have done so - at all.” - </p> - <p> - “He was a stranger,” said Daireen. - </p> - <p> - “But he is not therefore an angel unawares, my dear,” said Mrs. Crawford, - smiling as she patted the girl's hand in token of amity. “So long as he - meant, to be a stranger of course we were justified in making him as - pleasant as possible; but now, you see, he is not going to be a stranger. - But why should we talk upon so unprofitable a subject? Tell me all the - rest that you have been writing about.” - </p> - <p> - Daireen made an attempt to recollect what were the topics of her letters, - but she was not very successful in recalling them. - </p> - <p> - “I told them about the—the albatross, how it has followed us so - faithfully,” she said; “and how the Cape pigeons came to us yesterday.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, indeed. Very nice it will be for the dear old people at home. Ah, - Daireen, how happy you are to have some place you can look back upon and - think of as your home. Here am I in my old age still a vagabond upon the - face of the earth. I have no home, dear.” The lady felt that this piece of - pathos should touch the girl deeply. - </p> - <p> - “No, no, don't say that, my dear Mrs. Crawford,” Daireen said gently. “Say - that your dear kind goodnature makes you feel at home in every part of the - world.” - </p> - <p> - This was very nice Mrs. Crawford felt, as she kissed the face beside her, - but she did not therefore come to the conclusion that it would be well to - forget that little expression of pleasure which had flashed over this same - face a few minutes before. - </p> - <p> - At this very hour upon the evening following the anchors were being - weighed, and the good steamer was already backing slowly out from the - place it had occupied in the midst of the little fleet of whale-ships and - East Indiamen beneath the grim shadow of that black ocean rock, St. - Helena. The church spire of James Town was just coming into view as the - motion of the ship disclosed a larger space of the gorge where the little - town is built. The flag was being hauled down from the spar at the top of - Ladder Hill, and the man was standing by the sunset gun aboard H.M.S. <i>Cobra</i>. - The last of the shore-boats was cast off from the rail, and then, the - anchor being reported in sight, the steamer put on full speed ahead, the - helm was made hard-a-starboard, and the vessel swept round out of the - harbour. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Harwood and Major Crawford were in anxious conversation with an - engineer officer who had been summoned to the Cape to assist in a certain - council which was to be held regarding the attitude of a Kafir chief who - was inclined to be defiant of the lawful possessors of the country. But - Daireen was standing at the ship's side looking at that wonderful line of - mountain-wall connecting the batteries round the island. Her thoughts were - not, however, wholly of the days when there was a reason why this little - island should be the most strongly fortified in the ocean. As the steamer - moved gently round the dark cliffs she was not reflecting upon what must - have been the feelings of the great emperor-general who had been - accustomed to stand upon these cliffs and to look seaward. Her thoughts - were indeed undefined in their course, and she knew this when she heard - the voice of Oswin Markham beside her. - </p> - <p> - “Can you fancy what would be my thoughts at this time if I had kept to my - resolution—and if I were now up there among those big rocks?” he - asked. - </p> - <p> - She shook her head, but did not utter a word in answer. - </p> - <p> - “I wonder what would yours have been now if I had kept to my resolution,” - he then said. - </p> - <p> - “I cannot tell you, indeed,” she answered. “I cannot fancy what I should - be thinking.” - </p> - <p> - “Nor can I tell you what my thought would be,” he said after a pause. He - was leaning with one arm upon the moulding of the bulwarks, and she had - her eyes still fixed upon the ridges of the island. He touched her and - pointed out over the water. The sun like a shield of sparkling gold had - already buried half its disc beneath the horizon. They watched the - remainder become gradually less and less until only a thread of gold was - on the water; in another instant this had dwindled away. “I know now how I - should have felt,” he said, with his eyes fixed upon the blank horizon. - </p> - <p> - The girl looked out to that blank horizon also. - </p> - <p> - Then from each fort on the cliffs there leaped a little flash of light, - and the roar of the sunset guns made thunder all along the hollow shore; - before the echoes had given back the sound, faint bugle-calls were borne - out to the ocean as fort answered fort all along that line of - mountain-wall. The girl listened until the faintest farthest thin sound - dwindled away just as the last touch of sunlight had waned into blankness - upon the horizon. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIX. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - <i>Polonius</i>. What treasure had he, my lord? - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - <i>Hamlet</i>. Why, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - “One fair daughter and no more, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - The which he loved passing well.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - O my old friend, thy face is valanced since I saw thee last.... What, my - young lady and mistress! By'r lady, your ladyship is nearer to heaven than - when I saw you last.... You are all welcome.—<i>Hamlet.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>OWEVER varying, - indefinite, and objectless the thoughts of Daireen Gerald may have been—and - they certainly were—during the earlier days of the voyage, they were - undoubtedly fixed and steadfast during the last week. She knew that she - could not hear anything of her father until she would arrive at the Cape, - and so she had allowed herself to be buoyed up by the hopeful conversation - of the major and Mrs. Crawford, who seemed to think of her meeting with - her father as a matter of certainty, and by the various little excitements - of every day. But now when she knew that upon what the next few days would - bring forth all the happiness of her future life depended, what thought—what - prayer but one, could she have? - </p> - <p> - She was certainly not good company during these final days. Mr. Harwood - never got a word from her. Mr. Glaston did not make the attempt, though he - attributed her silence to remorse at having neglected his artistic - instructions. Major Crawford's gallantries received no smiling recognition - from her; and Mrs. Crawford's most motherly pieces of pathos went by - unheeded so far as Daireen was concerned. - </p> - <p> - What on earth was the matter, Mrs. Crawford thought; could it be possible - that her worst fears were realised? she asked herself; and she made a vow - that even if Mr. Harwood had spoken a single word on the subject of - affection to Daireen, he should forfeit her own friendship for ever. - </p> - <p> - “My dear Daireen,” she said, two days after leaving St. Helena, “you know - I love you as a daughter, and I have come to feel for you as a mother - might. I know something is the matter—what is it? you may confide in - me; indeed you may.” - </p> - <p> - “How good you are!” said the child of this adoption; “how very good! You - know all that is the matter, though you have in your kindness prevented me - from feeling it hitherto.” - </p> - <p> - “Good gracious, Daireen, you frighten me! No one can have been speaking to - you surely, while I am your guardian——” - </p> - <p> - “You know what a wretched doubt there is in my mind now that I know a few - days will tell me all that can be told—you know the terrible - question that comes to me every day—every hour—shall I see - him?—shall he be—alive?” - </p> - <p> - Even the young men, with no touches of motherly pathos about them, had - appreciated the girl's feelings in those days more readily than Mrs. - Crawford. - </p> - <p> - “My poor dear little thing,” she now said, fondling her in a way whose - soothing effect the combined efforts of all the young men could never have - approached. “Don't let the doubt enter your mind for an instant—it - positively must not. Your father is as well as I am to-day, I can assure - you. Can you disbelieve me? I know him a great deal better than you do; - and I know the Cape climate better than you do. Nonsense, my dear, no one - ever dies at the Cape—at least not when they go there to recover. - Now make your mind easy for the next three days.” - </p> - <p> - But for just this interval poor Daireen's mind was in a state of anything - but repose. - </p> - <p> - During the last night the steamer would be on the voyage she found it - utterly impossible to go to sleep. She heard all of the bells struck from - watch to watch. Her cabin became stifling to her though a cool breeze was - passing through the opened port. She rose, dressed herself, and went on - deck though it was about two o'clock in the morning. It was a terrible - thing for a girl to do, but nothing could have prevented Daireen's taking - that step. She stood just outside the door of the companion, and in the - moonlight and soft air of the sea more ease of mind came to her than she - had yet felt on this voyage. - </p> - <p> - While she stood there in the moonlight listening to the even whisperings - of the water as it parted away before the ship, and to the fitful flights - of the winged fish, she seemed to hear some order as she thought, given - from the forward part of the vessel. In another minute the officer on - watch hastened past her. She heard him knock at the captain's cabin which - was just aft of the deck-house, and make the report. - </p> - <p> - “Fixed light right ahead, sir.” - </p> - <p> - She knew then that the first glimpse of the land which they were - approaching had been obtained, and her anxiety gave place to peace. That - message of the light seemed to be ominous of good to her. She returned to - her cabin, and found it cool and tranquil, so that she fell asleep at - once; and when she next opened her eyes she saw a tall man standing with - folded arms beside her, gazing at her. She gave but one little cry, and - then that long drooping moustache of his was down upon her face and her - bare arms were about his neck. - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, thank you, Dolly; that is a sufficiently close escape from - strangulation to make me respect your powers,” said the man; and at the - sound of his voice Daireen turned her face to her pillow, while the man - shook out with spasmodic fingers his handkerchief from its folds and - endeavoured to repair the injury done to his moustache by the girl's - embrace. - </p> - <p> - “Now, now, my Dolly,” he said, after some convulsive mutterings which - Daireen could, of course, not hear; “now, now, don't you think it might be - as well to think of making some apology for your laziness instead of - trying to go asleep again?” - </p> - <p> - Then she looked up with wondering eyes. - </p> - <p> - “I don't understand anything at all,” she cried. “How could I go asleep - when we were within four hours of the Cape? How could any one be so cruel - as to let me sleep so dreadfully? It was wicked of me: it was quite - wicked.” - </p> - <p> - “There's not the least question about the enormity of the crime, I'm - afraid,” he answered; “only I think that Mrs. Crawford may be responsible - for a good deal of it, if her confession to me is to be depended upon. She - told me how you were—but never mind, I am the ill-treated one in the - matter, and I forgive you all.” - </p> - <p> - “And we have actually been brought into the dock?” - </p> - <p> - “For the past half-hour, my love; and I have been waiting for much longer. - I got the telegram you sent to me, by the last mail from Madeira, so that - I have been on the lookout for the <i>Cardwell Castle</i> for a week. Now - don't be too hard on an old boy, Dolly, with all of those questions I see - on your lips. Here, I'll take them in the lump, and think over them as I - get through a glass of brandy-and-water with Jack Crawford and the Sylph—by - George, to think of your meeting with the poor old hearty Sylph—ah, - I forgot you never heard that we used to call Mrs. Crawford the Sylph at - our station before you were born. There, now I have got all your - questions, my darling—my own darling little Dolly.” - </p> - <p> - She only gave him a little hug this time, and he hastened up to the deck, - where Mrs. Crawford and her husband were waiting for him. - </p> - <p> - “Now, did I say anything more of her than was the truth, George?” cried - Mrs. Crawford, so soon as Colonel Gerald got on deck. - </p> - <p> - But Colonel Gerald smiled at her abstractedly and pulled fiercely at the - ends of his moustache. Then seeing Mr. Harwood at the other side of the - skylight, he ran and shook hands with him warmly; and Harwood, who fancied - he understood something of the theory of the expression of emotion in - mankind, refrained from hinting to the colonel that they had already had a - chat together since the steamer had come into dock. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford, however, was not particularly well pleased to find that her - old friend George Gerald had only answered her with that vague smile, - which implied nothing; she knew that he had been speaking for half an hour - before with Harwood, from whom he had heard the first intelligence of his - appointment to the Castaway group. When Colonel Gerald, however, went the - length of rushing up to Doctor Campion and violently shaking hands with - him also, though they had been in conversation together before, the lady - began to fear that the attack of fever from which it was reported - Daireen's father had been suffering had left its traces upon him still. - </p> - <p> - “Rather rum, by gad,” said the major, when his attention was called to his - old comrade's behaviour. “Just like the way a boy would behave visiting - his grandmother, isn't it? Looks as if he were working off his feelings, - doesn't it? By gad, he's going back to Harwood!” - </p> - <p> - “I thought he would,” said Mrs. Crawford. “Harwood can tell him all about - his appointment. That's what George, like all the rest of them nowadays, - is anxious about. He forgets his child—he has no interest in her, I - see.” - </p> - <p> - “That's devilish bad, Kate, devilish bad! by Jingo! But upon my soul, I - was under the impression that his wildness just now was the effect of - having been below with the kid.” - </p> - <p> - “If he had the least concern about her, would he not come to me, when he - knows very well that I could tell him all about the voyage? But no, he - prefers to remain by the side of the special correspondent.” - </p> - <p> - “No, he doesn't; here he comes, and hang me if he isn't going to shake - hands with both of us!” cried the major, as Colonel Gerald, recognising - him, apparently for the first time, left Harwood's side and hastened - across the deck with extended hand. - </p> - <p> - “George, dear old George,” said Mrs. Crawford, reflecting upon the - advantages usually attributed to the conciliatory method of treatment. - “Isn't it like the old time come back again? Here we stand together—Jack, - Campion, yourself and myself, just as we used to be in—ah, it cannot - have been '58!—yes, it was, good gracious, '58! It seems like a - dream.” - </p> - <p> - “Exactly like a dream, by Jingo, my dear,” said the major pensively, for - he was thinking what an auxiliary to the realistic effect of the scene a - glass of brandy-and-water, or some other Indian cooling drink, would be. - “Just like a vision, you know, George, isn't it? So if you'll come to the - smoking-room, we'll have that light breakfast we were talking about.” - </p> - <p> - “He won't go, major,” said the lady severely. - </p> - <p> - “He wishes to have a talk with me about the dear child. Don't you, - George?” - </p> - <p> - “And about your dear self, Kate,” replied Colonel Gerald, in the Irish way - that brought back to the lady still more vividly all the old memories of - the happy station on the Himalayas. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, how like George that, isn't it?” she whispered to her husband. - </p> - <p> - “My dear girl, don't be a tool,” was the parting request of the major as - he strolled off to where the doctor was, he knew, waiting for some sign - that the brandy and water were amalgamating. - </p> - <p> - “I'm glad that we are alone, George,” said Mrs. Crawford, taking Colonel - Gerald's arm. “We can talk together freely about the child—about - Daireen.” - </p> - <p> - “And what have we to say about her, Kate? Can you give me any hints about - her temper, eh? How she needs to be managed, and that sort of thing? You - used to be capital at that long ago.” - </p> - <p> - “And I flatter myself that I can still tell all about a girl after a - single glance; but, my dear George, I never indeed knew what a truly - perfect nature was until I came to understand Daireen. She is an angel, - George.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said the colonel gently; “not Daireen—she is not the angel; - but her face, when I saw it just now upon its pillow, sent back all my - soul in thought of one—one who is—who always was an angel—my - good angel.” - </p> - <p> - “That was my first thought too,” said Mrs. Crawford. “And her nature is - the same. Only poor Daireen errs on the side of good nature. She is a - child in her simplicity of thought about every one she meets. She wants - some one near her who will be able to guide her tastes in—in—well, - in different matters. By the way, you remember Austin Glaston, who was - chaplain for a while on the <i>Telemachus</i>, and who got made Bishop of - the Salamanders; well, that is his son, that tall handsome youngman—I - must present you. He is one of the most distinguished men I ever met.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, indeed? Does he write for a newspaper?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, George, I am ashamed of you. No, Mr. Glaston is a—a—an - artist and a poet, and—well, he does nearly everything much better - than any one else, and if you take my advice you will give him an - invitation to dinner, and then you will find out all.” - </p> - <p> - Before Colonel Gerald could utter a word he was brought face to face with - Mr. Glaston, and felt his grasp responded to by a gentle pressure. - </p> - <p> - “I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Glaston; your father and I were old - friends. If you are staying at Cape Town, I hope you will not neglect to - call upon my daughter and myself,” said the colonel. - </p> - <p> - “You are extremely kind,” returned the young man: “I shall be delighted.” - </p> - <p> - Thus Daireen on coming on deck found her father in conversation with Mr. - Glaston, and already acquainted with every member of Mrs. Crawford's - circle. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Glaston has just promised to pay you a visit on shore, my dear,” said - the major's wife, as she came up. - </p> - <p> - “How very kind,” said Daireen. “But can he tell me where I live ashore, - for no one has thought fit to let me know anything about myself. I will - never forgive you, Mrs. Crawford, for ordering that I was not to be - awakened this morning. It was too cruel.” - </p> - <p> - “Only to be kind, dear; I knew what a state of nervousness you were in.” - </p> - <p> - “And now of course,” continued the girl, “when I come on deck all the news - will have been told—even that secret about the Castaway Islands.” - </p> - <p> - “Heavens':” said the colonel, “what about the Castaway Islands? Have they - been submerged, or have they thrown off the British yoke already?” - </p> - <p> - “I see you know all,” she said mournfully, “and I had treasured up all - that Mr. Harwood said no one in the world but himself knew, to be the - first to tell you. And now, too, you know every one aboard except—ah, - I have my secret to tell at last. There he stands, and even you don't - remember him, papa. Come here, Standish, and let me present you. This, - papa, is Standish Macnamara, and he is coming out with us now to wherever - we are to live.” - </p> - <p> - “Good gracious, Daireen!” cried Mrs. Crawford. - </p> - <p> - “What, Standish, Prince of Innishdermot!” said the colonel. “My dear boy, - I am delighted to welcome you to this strange place. I remember you when - your curls were a good deal longer, my boy.” - </p> - <p> - Poor Standish, who was no longer in his sailor's jacket, but in the best - attire his Dublin tailor could provide, blushed most painfully as every - one gazed at him—every one with the exception of Daireen, who was - gazing anxiously around the deck as though she expected to see some one - still. - </p> - <p> - “This is certainly a secret,” murmured Mrs. Crawford. - </p> - <p> - “Now, Daireen, to the shore,” said Colonel Gerald. “You need not say - good-bye to any one here. Mrs. Crawford will be out to dine with us - to-morrow. She will bring the major and Doctor Campion, and Mr. Harwood - says he will ride one of my horses till he gets his own. So there need be - no tears. My man will look after the luggage while I drive you out.” - </p> - <p> - “I must get my bag from my cabin,” Daireen said, going slowly towards the - companion. In a few moments she reappeared with her dressing-bag, and gave - another searching glance around the deck. - </p> - <p> - “Now,” she said, “I am ready.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XX. - </h2> - <p> - (Transcriber's Note: The following four chapters 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.) - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Something have you heard - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Of Hamlet's transformation; so call it— - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - ... What it should be... - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - I cannot dream or - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - ... gather - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - So much as from occasion you may glean - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Whether aught to us unknown afflicts him. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - At night we'll feast together: - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Most welcome home! - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Most fair return of greetings.<i>Hamlet.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HAT an - extraordinary affair!' said Mrs. Crawford, turning from where she had been - watching the departure of the colonel and his daughter and that tall - handsome young friend of theirs whom they had called Standish MacDermot. - </p> - <p> - 'I would not have believed it of Daireen. Standish MacDermot—what a - dreadful Irish name! But where can he have been aboard the ship? He cannot - have been one of those terrible fore-cabin passengers. Ah, I would not - have believed her capable of such disingenuousness. Who is this young man, - Jack?' - </p> - <p> - 'My dear girl, never mind the young man or the young woman just now. We - must look after the traps and get them through the Custom-house.' replied - the major. - </p> - <p> - 'Mr. Harwood, who is this young man with the terrible Irish name?' she - asked in desperation of the special correspondent. She felt indeed in an - extremity when she sought Harwood for an ally. - </p> - <p> - 'I never was so much astonished in all my life,' he whispered in answer. - 'I never heard of him. She never breathed a word about him to me.' - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Crawford did not think this at all improbable, seeing that Daireen - had never breathed a word about him to herself. - </p> - <p> - 'My dear Mr. Harwood, these Irish are too romantic for us. It is - impossible for us ever to understand them.' And she hastened away to look - after her luggage. It was not until she was quite alone that she raised - her hands, exclaiming devoutly, 'Thank goodness Mr. Glaston had gone - before this second piece of romance was disclosed! What on earth would he - have thought!' - </p> - <p> - The reflection made the lady shudder. Mr. Glaston's thoughts, if he had - been present while Daireen was bringing forward this child of mystery, - Standish MacDermot, would, she knew, have been too terrible to be - contemplated. - </p> - <p> - As for Mr. Harwood, though he professed to be affected by nothing that - occurred about him, still he felt himself uncomfortably surprised by the - sudden appearance of the young Irishman with whom Miss Gerald and her - father appeared to be on such familiar terms; and as he stood looking up - to that marvellous hill in whose shadow Cape Town lies, he came to the - conclusion that it would be as well for him to find out all that could be - known about this Standish MacDermot. He had promised Daireen's father to - make use of one of his horses so long as he would remain at the Cape, and - it appeared from all he could gather that the affairs in the colony were - becoming sufficiently complicated to compel his remaining here instead of - hastening out to make his report of the Castaway group. The British nation - were of course burning to hear all that could be told about the new island - colony, but Mr. Harwood knew very well that the heading which would be - given in the columns of the '<i>Dominant Trumpeter</i>' to any information - regarding the attitude of the defiant Kafir chief would be in very much - larger type than that of the most flowery paragraph descriptive of the - charms of the Castaway group; and so he had almost made up his mind that - it would be to the advantage of the newspaper that he should stay at the - Cape. Of course he felt that he had at heart no further interests, and so - long as it was not conflicting with those interests he would ride Colonel - Gerald's horse, and, perhaps, walk with Colonel Gerald's daughter. - </p> - <p> - But all the time that he was reflecting in this consistent manner the - colonel and his daughter and Standish were driving along the base of Table - Mountain, while on the other side the blue waters of the lovely bay were - sparkling between the low shores of pure white sand, and far away the dim - mountain ridges were seen. - </p> - <p> - 'Shall I ever come to know that mountain and all about it as well as I - know our own dear Slieve Docas?' cried the girl, looking around her. 'Will - you, do you think, Standish?' - </p> - <p> - 'Nothing here can compare with our Irish land,' cried Standish. - </p> - <p> - 'You are right my boy,' said Daireen's father. 'I have knocked about a - good deal, and I have seen a good many places, and, after all, I have come - to the conclusion that our own Suangorm is worth all that I have seen for - beauty.' - </p> - <p> - 'We can all sympathise with each other here,' said the girl laughing. 'We - will join hands and say that there is no place in the world like our - Ireland, and then, maybe, the strangers here will believe us.' - </p> - <p> - 'Yes,' said her father, 'we will think of ourselves in the midst of a - strange country as three representatives of the greatest nation in, the - world. Eh, Standish, that would please your father.' - </p> - <p> - But Standish could not make any answer to this allusion to his father. He - was in fact just now wondering what Colonel Gerald would say when he would - hear that Standish had travelled six thousand miles for the sake of - obtaining his advice as to the prudence of entertaining the thought of - leaving home. Standish was beginning to fear that there was a flaw - somewhere in the consistency of the step he had taken, complimentary - though it undoubtedly was to the judgment of Colonel Gerald. He could - hardly define the inconsistency of which he was conscious, but as the - phaeton drove rapidly along the red road beside the high peak of the - mountain he became more deeply impressed with the fact that it existed - somewhere. - </p> - <p> - Passing along great hedges of cactus and prickly-pear, and by the side of - some well-wooded grounds with acres of trim green vineyards, the phaeton - proceeded for a few miles. The scene was strange to Daireen and Standish; - only for the consciousness of that towering peak they were grateful. Even - though its slope was not swathed in heather, it still resembled in its - outline the great Slieve Docas, and this was enough to make them feel - while passing beneath it that it was a landmark breathing of other days. - Half way up the ascent they could see in a ravine a large grove of the - silver-leaf fir, and the sun-glints among the exquisite white foliage were - very lovely. Further down the mighty aloes threw forth their thick green - branches in graceful divergence, and then along the road were numerous - bullock waggons with Malay drivers—eighteen or twenty animals - running in a team. Nothing could have added to the strangeness of the - scene to the girl and her companion, and yet the shadow of that great hill - made the land seem no longer weary. - </p> - <p> - At last, just at the foot of the hill, Colonel Gerald turned his horses to - where there was a broad rough avenue made through a grove of pines, and - after following its curves for some distance, a broad cleared space was - reached, beyond which stood a number of magnificent Australian oaks and - fruit trees surrounding a long low Dutch-built house with an overhanging - roof and the usual stoëp—the raised stone border—in front. - </p> - <p> - 'This is our house, my darling,' said the girl's father as he pulled up at - the door. 'I had only a week to get it in order for you, but I hope you - will like it.' - </p> - <p> - 'Like it?' she cried; 'it is lovelier than any we had in India, and then - the hill—the hill—oh, papa, this is home indeed.' - </p> - <p> - 'And for me, my own little Dolly, don't you think it is home too?' he said - when he had his arms about her in the hall. 'With this face in my hands at - last I feel all the joy of home that has been denied to me for years. How - often have I seen your face, Dolly, as I sat with my coffee in the evening - in my lonely bungalow under the palms? The sight of it used to cheer me - night after night, darling,' but now that I have it here—here——' - </p> - <p> - 'Keep it there,' she cried. 'Oh, papa, papa, why should we be miserable - apart ever again? I will stay with you now wherever you go for ever.' - </p> - <p> - Colonel Gerald looked at her for a minute, he kissed her once again upon - the face, and then burst into a laugh. - </p> - <p> - 'And this is the only result of a voyage made under the protection of Mrs. - Crawford!' he said. 'My dear, you must have used some charm to have - resisted her power; or has she lost her ancient cunning? Why, after a - voyage with Mrs. Crawford I have seen the most devoted daughters desert - their parents. When I heard that you were coming out with her I feared you - would allow yourself to be schooled by her into a sense of your duty, but - it seems you have been stubborn.' - </p> - <p> - 'She was everything that is kind to me, and I don't know what I should - have done without her,' said the girl. 'Only, I'll never forgive her for - not having awakened me to meet you this morning. But last night I suppose - she thought I was too nervous. I was afraid, you know, lest—lest—but - never mind, here we are together at home—for there is the hill—yes, - at home.' - </p> - <p> - But when Daireen found herself in the room to which she had been shown by - the neat little handmaiden provided by Colonel Gerald, and had seated - herself in sight of a bright green cactus that occupied the centre of the - garden outside, she had much to think about. She just at this moment - realised that all her pleasant life aboard the steamer was at an end. More - than a touch of sadness was in her reflection, for she had come to think - of the good steamer as something more than a mere machine; it had been a - home to her for twenty-five days, and it had contained her happiness and - sorrow during that time as a home would have done. Then how could she have - parted from it an hour before with so little concern? she asked herself. - How could she have left it without shaking hands with—with all those - who had been by her side for many days on the good old ship? Some she had - said goodbye to, others she would see again on the following day, but - still there were some whom she had left the ship without seeing—some - who had been associated with her happiness during part of the voyage, at - any rate, and she might never see them again. The reflection made her very - sad, nor did the feeling pass off during the rest of the day spent by her - father's side. - </p> - <p> - The day was very warm, and, as Daireens father was still weak, he did not - stray away from the house beyond the avenue of shady oaks leading down to - a little stream that moved sluggishly on its way a couple of hundred yards - from the garden. They had, of course, plenty to talk about; for Colonel - Gerald was somewhat anxious to hear how his friend Standish had come out. - He had expressed the happiness he felt on meeting with the young man as - soon as his daughter had said that he would go out to wherever they were - to live, but he thought it would increase his satisfaction if his daughter - would tell him how it came to pass that this young man was unacquainted - with any of the passengers. - </p> - <p> - Daireen now gave him the entire history of Standish's quarrel with his - father, and declared that it was solely to obtain the advice of Colonel - Gerald he had made the voyage from Ireland. - </p> - <p> - The girl's father laughed when he heard of this characteristic action on - the part of the young man; but he declared that it proved he meant to work - for himself in the world, and not be content to live upon the traditions - of The Mac-Dermots; and then he promised the girl that something should be - done for the son of the hereditary prince. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXI. - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - The nights are wholesome; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - So hallowed and so gracious is the time. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - What, has this thing appeared again to-night?—Hamlet. - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN evening came - Daireen and her father sat out upon their chairs on the stoëp in front of - the house. The sun had for long been hidden by the great peak, though to - the rest of the world not under its shadow he had only just sunk. The - twilight was very different from the last she had seen on land, when the - mighty Slieve Docas had appeared in his purple robe. Here the twilight was - brief and darkly blue as it overhung the arched aloes and those large palm - plants whose broad leaves waved not in the least breeze. Far in the mellow - distance a large star was glittering, and the only sound in the air was - the shrill whistle of one of the Cape field crickets. - </p> - <p> - Then began the struggle between moonlight and darkness. The leaves of the - boughs that were clasped above the little river began to be softly - silvered as the influence of the rising light made itself apparent, and - then the highest ridges of the hill gave back a flash as the beams shot - through the air. - </p> - <p> - These changes were felt by the girl sitting silently beside her father—the - changes of the twilight and of the moonlight, before the full round shield - of the orb appeared above the trees, and the white beams fell around the - broad floating leaves beneath her feet. - </p> - <p> - 'Are you tired, Dolly?' asked her father. - </p> - <p> - 'Not in the least, papa; it seems months since I was at sea.' - </p> - <p> - 'Then you will ride with me for my usual hour? I find it suits me better - to take an hour's exercise in the cool of the evening.' - </p> - <p> - 'Nothing could be lovelier on such an evening,' she cried. 'It will - complete our day's happiness.' - </p> - <p> - She hastened to put on her habit while her father went round to the - stables to give directions to the groom regarding the saddling of a - certain little Arab which had been bought within the week. In a short time - Standish was left to gaze in admiration at the fine seat of the old - officer in his saddle, and in rapture at the delicately shaped figure of - the girl, as they trotted down the avenue between those strange trees. - </p> - <p> - They disappeared among the great leaves; and when the sound of their - horses' hoofs had died away, Standish, sitting there upon the raised - ground in front of the house, had his own hour of thought. He felt that he - had hitherto not accomplished much in his career of labour. He had had an - idea that there were a good many of the elements of heroism in joining as - he did the vessel in which the girl was going abroad. Visions of wrecks, - of fires, of fallings overboard, nay of pirates even, had floated before - his mind, with himself as the only one near to save the girl from each - threatening calamity. He had heard of such things taking place daily, and - he was prepared to risk himself for her sake, and to account himself happy - if the chance of protecting her should occur. - </p> - <p> - But so soon as he had been a few days at sea, and had found that such a - thing as danger was not even hinted at any more than it would be in a - drawing-room on shore—when in fact he saw how like a drawing-room on - shore was the quarter-deck of the steamer, he began to be disappointed. - Daireen was surrounded by friends who would, if there might chance to be - the least appearance of danger, resent his undertaking to save the girl - whom he loved with every thought of his soul. He would not, in fact, be - permitted to play the part of the hero that his imagination had marked out - for himself. - </p> - <p> - Yes, he felt that the heroic elements in his position aboard the steamer - had somehow dwindled down to a minimum; and now here he had been so weak - as to allow himself to be induced to come out to live, even though only - for a short time, at this house. He felt that his acceptance of the - sisterly friendship of the girl was making it daily more impossible for - him to kneel at her feet, as he meant one day to do, and beg of her to - accept of some heroic work done on her behalf. - </p> - <p> - 'She is worthy of all that a man could do with all his soul,' Standish - cried as he stood there in the moonlight. But what can I do for her? What - can I do for her? Oh, I am the most miserable wretch in the whole world!' - </p> - <p> - This was not a very satisfactory conclusion for him to come to; but on the - whole it did not cause him much despondency. In his Irish nature there - were almost unlimited resources of hope, and it would have required a - large number of reverses of fortune to cast him down utterly. - </p> - <p> - While he was trying in vain to make himself feel as miserable as he knew - his situation demanded him to be, Daireen and her father were riding along - the road that leads from Cape Town to the districts of Wynberg and - Constantia. They went along through the moonlight beneath the splendid - avenue of Australian oaks at the old Dutch district of Bondebosch, and - then they turned aside into a narrow lane of cactus and prickly pear which - brought them to that great sandy plain densely overgrown with blossoming - heath and gorse called The Mats, along which they galloped for some miles. - Turning their horses into the road once more, they then walked them back - towards their house at Mowbray. - </p> - <p> - Daireen felt that she had never before so enjoyed a ride. All was so - strange. That hill whose peak was once again towering above them; that - long dark avenue with the myriads of fire-flies sparkling amongst the - branches; the moonlight that was flooding the world outside; and then her - companion, her father, whose face she had been dreaming over daily and - nightly. She had never before so enjoyed a ride. - </p> - <p> - They had gone some distance through the oak avenue when they turned their - horses aside at the entrance to one of the large vineyards that are - planted in such neat lines up the sloping ground. - </p> - <p> - 'Well, Dolly, are you satisfied at last?' said Colonel Gerald, looking - into the girl's face that the moonlight was glorifying, though here and - there the shadow of a leaf fell upon her. - </p> - <p> - 'Satisfied! Oh, it is all like a dream,' she said. 'A strange dream of a - strange place. When I think that a month ago I was so different, I feel - inclined to—to—ask you to kiss me again, to make sure I am not - dreaming.' - </p> - <p> - 'If you are under the impression that you are a sleeping beauty, dear, and - that you can only be roused by that means, I have no objection.' - </p> - <p> - 'Now I am sure it is all reality,' she said with a little laugh. 'Oh, - papa, I am so happy. Could anything disturb our happiness?' - </p> - <p> - Suddenly upon the dark avenue behind them there came the faint sound of a - horses hoof, and then of a song sung carelessly through the darkness—one - she had heard before. - </p> - <p> - The singer was evidently approaching on horseback, for the last notes were - uttered just opposite where the girl and her father were standing their - horses behind the trees at the entrance to the vineyard. The singer too - seemed to have reined in at this point, though of course he could not see - either of the others, the branches were so close. Daireen was mute while - that air was being sung, and in another instant she became aware of a - horse being pushed between the trees a few yards from her. There was only - a small space to pass, so she and her father backed their horses round and - the motion made the stranger start, for he had not perceived them before. - </p> - <p> - 'I beg you will not move on my account. I did not know there was anyone - here, or I should not have——' - </p> - <p> - The light fell upon the girl's face, and her father saw the stranger give - another little start. - </p> - <p> - 'You need not make an apology to us, Mr. Markham,' said Daireen. 'We had - hidden ourselves, I know. Papa, this is Mr. Oswin Markham. How odd it is - that we should meet here upon the first evening of landing! The Cape is a - good deal larger than the quarterdeck of the “Cardwell Castle.”' - </p> - <p> - 'You were a passenger, no doubt, aboard the steamer my daughter came out - in, Mr. Markham?' said Colonel Gerald. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Markham laughed. - </p> - <p> - 'Upon my word I hardly know that I am entitled to call myself a - passenger,' he said. 'Can you define my position, Miss Gerald? it was - something very uncertain. I am a castaway—a waif that was picked up - in a half-drowned condition from a broken mast in the Atlantic, and - sheltered aboard the hospitable vessel.' - </p> - <p> - 'It is very rarely that a steamer is so fortunate as to save a life in - that way,' said Colonel Gerald. 'Sailing vessels have a much better - chance.' - </p> - <p> - 'To me it seems almost a miracle—a long chain of coincidences was - necessary for my rescue, and yet every link was perfect to the end.' - </p> - <p> - 'It is upon threads our lives are constantly hanging,' said the colonel, - backing his horse upon the avenue. 'Do you remain long in the colony, Mr. - Markham?' he asked when they were standing in a group at a place where the - moonlight broke through the branches. - </p> - <p> - 'I think I shall have to remain for some weeks,' he answered. 'Campion - tells me I must not think of going to England until the violence of the - winter there is past.' - </p> - <p> - 'Then we shall doubtless have the pleasure of meeting you frequently. We - have a cottage at Mowbray, where we would be delighted to see you. By the - way, Mrs. Crawford and a few of my other old friends are coming out to - dine with us to-morrow, my daughter and myself would be greatly pleased if - you could join us.' - </p> - <p> - 'You are exceedingly kind,' said Mr. Markham. 'I need scarcely say how - happy I will be.' - </p> - <p> - 'Our little circle on board the good old ship is not yet to be dispersed, - you see, Mr. Markham,' said Daireen with a laugh. 'For once again, at any - rate, we will be all together.' - </p> - <p> - 'For once again,' he repeated as he raised his hat, the girl's horse and - her father's having turned. 'For once again, till when goodbye, Miss - Gerald.' - </p> - <p> - 'Goodbye, Mr. Markham,' said the colonel. 'By the way, we dine early I - should have told you—half past six.' - </p> - <p> - Markham watched them ride along the avenue and reappear in the moonlight - space beyond. Then he dropped the bridle on his horse's neck and - listlessly let the animal nibble at the leaves on the side of the road for - a long time. At last he seemed to start into consciousness of everything. - He gathered up the bridle and brought the horse back to the avenue. - </p> - <p> - 'It is Fate or Providence or God this time,' he muttered as if for his own - satisfaction. 'I have had no part in the matter; I have not so much as - raised my hand for this, and yet it has come.' - </p> - <p> - He walked his horse back to Cape Town in the moonlight. - </p> - <p> - 'I don't think you mentioned this Mr. Markham's name to me, Dolly,' said - Colonel Gerald as they returned to Mowbray. - </p> - <p> - 'I don't think I did, papa; but you see he had gone ashore when I came on - deck to you this morning, and I did not suppose we should ever meet - again.' - </p> - <p> - 'I hope you do not object to my asking him to dinner, dear?' - </p> - <p> - 'I object, papa? Oh, no, no; I never felt so glad at anything. He does not - talk affectedly like Mr. Glaston, nor cleverly like Mr. Harwood, so I - prefer him to either of them. And then, think of his being for a week - tossing about the Atlantic upon that wreck.' - </p> - <p> - 'All very good reasons for asking him to dine to-morrow,' said her father. - 'Now suppose we try a trot.' - </p> - <p> - 'I would rather walk if it is the same to you, papa,' she said. 'I don't - feel equal to another trot now.' - </p> - <p> - 'Why, surely, you have not allowed yourself to become tired, Daireen? Yes, - my dear, you look it. I should have remembered that you are just off the - sea. We will go gently home, and you will get a good sleep.' - </p> - <p> - They did go very gently, and silently too, and in a short time Daireen was - lying on her bed, thinking not of the strange moonlight wonders of her - ride, but of that five minutes spent upon the avenue of Australian oaks - down which had echoed that song. - </p> - <p> - It seemed that poor Mrs. Crawford was destined to have enigmas of the most - various sorts thrust upon her for her solution; at any rate she regarded - the presence of Mr. Oswin Markham at Colonel Crawford's little dinner the - next, evening as a question as puzzling as the mysterious appearance of - the young man called Standish MacDermot. She, however, chatted with Mr. - Markham as usual, and learned that he also was going to a certain garden - party which was to be held at Government House in a few days. - </p> - <p> - 'And you will come too, Daireen?' she said. 'You must come, for Mr. - Glaston has been so good as to promise to exhibit in one of the rooms a - few of his pictures he spoke to us about. How kind of him, isn't it, to - try and educate the taste of the colony?' The bishop has not yet arrived - at the Cape, but Mr. Glaston says he will wait for him for a fortnight.' - </p> - <p> - 'For a fortnight? Such filial devotion will no doubt bring its own - reward,' said Mr. Harwood. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXII. - </h2> - <p class="indent30"> - Being remiss, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Most generous and free from all contriving. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - A heart unfortified, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - An understanding simple and unschooled. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - A violet in the youth of primy nature. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - O'tis most sweet - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - When in one line two crafts directly meet. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Soft,—let me see:— - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings.—<i>Hamlet.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE band of the - gallant Bayonetteers was making the calm air of Government House gardens - melodious with the strains of an entrancing German valse not more than a - year old, which had convulsed society at Cape Town when introduced a few - weeks previously; for society at Cape Town, like society everywhere else, - professes to understand everything artistic, even to the delicacies of - German dance music. The evening was soft and sunny, while the effect of a - very warm day drawing near its close was to be seen everywhere around. The - broad leaves of the feathery plants were hanging dry and languid across - the walks, and the grass was becoming tawny as that on the Lion's Head—that - strangely curved hill beside Table Mountain. The giant aloes and plantains - were, however, defiant of the heat and spread their leaves out mightily as - ever. - </p> - <p> - The gardens are always charming in the southern spring, but never so - charming as when their avenues are crowded with coolly dressed girls of - moderate degrees of prettiness whose voices are dancing to the melody of a - German valse not more than a year old. How charming it is to discuss all - the absorbing colonial questions—such as how the beautiful Van der - Veldt is looking this evening; and if Miss Van Schmidt, whose papa belongs - to the Legislative Council and is consequently a voice in the British - Empire, has really carried out his threat of writing home to the War - Office to demand the dismissal of that young Mr. Westbury from the corps - of Royal Engineers on account of his conduct towards Miss Van Schmidt; or - perhaps a question of art, such as how the general's daughters contrive to - have Paris bonnets several days previous to the arrival of the mail with - the patterns; or a question of diplomacy, such as whether His Excellency's - private secretary will see his way to making that proposal to the second - eldest daughter of one of the Supreme Court judges. There is no colony in - the world so devoted to discussions of this nature as the Cape, and in no - part of the colony may a discussion be carried out with more spirit than - in the gardens around Government House. - </p> - <p> - But upon the afternoon of this garden party there was an unusual display - of colonial beauty and colonial young men—the two are never found in - conjunction—and English delicacy and Dutch <i>gaucherie</i>, for the - spring had been unusually damp, and this was the first garden party day - that was declared perfect. There were, of course, numbers of officers, the - military with their wives—such as had wives, and the naval with - other people's wives, each branch of the service grumbling at the other's - luck in this respect. And then there were sundry civil servants of exalted - rank—commissioners of newly founded districts, their wives and - daughters, and a brace of good colonial bishops also, with their partners - in their mission labours, none of whom objected to Waldteufel or Gung'l. - </p> - <p> - On the large lawn in front of the balcony at the Residence there was a - good deal of tennis being played, and upon the tables laid out on the - balcony there were a good many transactions in the way of brandy and soda - carried on by special commissioners and field officers, whose prerogative - it was to discuss the attitude of the belligerent Kafir chief who, it was - supposed, intended to give as much trouble as he could without - inconvenience to himself. And then from shady places all around the - avenues came the sounds of girlish laughter and the glimmer of muslin. - Behind this scene the great flat-faced, flat-roofed mountain stood dark - and bold, and through it all the band of the Bayonetteers brayed out that - inspiriting valse. - </p> - <p> - Major Crawford was, in consequence of the importance of his mission to the - colony, pointed out to the semi-Dutch legislators, each of whom had much - to tell him on the burning boot question; and Mr. Harwood was naturally - enough, regarded with interest, for the sounds of the 'Dominant Trumpeter' - go forth into all the ends of the earth. Mr. Glaston, too, as son of the - Metropolitan of the Salamander Archipelago, was entitled to every token of - respectful admiration, even if he had not in the fulness of his heart - allowed a few of his pictures to be hung in one of the reception rooms. - But perhaps Daireen Gerald had more eyes fixed upon her than anyone in the - gardens. - </p> - <p> - Everyone knew that she was the daughter of Colonel Gerald who had just - been gazetted Governor-General of the new colony of the Castaway Islands, - but why she had come out to the Cape no one seemed to know exactly. Many - romances were related to account for her appearance, the Cape Town people - possessing almost unlimited resources in the way of romance making; but as - no pains were taken to bring about a coincidence of stories, it was - impossible to say who was in the right. - </p> - <p> - She was dressed so perfectly according to Mr. Glaston's theories of - harmony that he could not refrain from congratulating her—or rather - commending her—upon her good taste, though it struck Daireen that - there was not much good taste in his commendation. He remained by her side - for some time lamenting the degradation of the colony in being shut out - from Art—the only world worth living in, as he said; then Daireen - found herself with some other people to whom she had been presented, and - who were anxious to present her to some relations. - </p> - <p> - The girl's dress was looked at by most of the colonial young ladies, and - her figure was gazed at by all of the men, until it was generally - understood that to have made the acquaintance of Miss Gerald was a - happiness gained. - </p> - <p> - 'My dear George,' said Mrs. Crawford to Colonel Gerald when she had - contrived to draw him to her side at a secluded part of the gardens,—'My - dear George, she is far more of a success than even I myself anticipated. - Why, the darling child is the centre of all attraction.' - </p> - <p> - 'Poor little Dolly! that is not a very dizzy point to reach at the Cape, - is it, Kate?' - </p> - <p> - 'Now don't be provoking, George. We all know well enough, of course, that - it is here the same as at any place else: the latest arrival has the charm - of novelty. But it is not so in Daireen's case. I can see at once—and - I am sure you will give me credit for some power of perception in these - things—that she has created a genuine impression. George, you may - depend on her receiving particular attention on all sides.' The lady's - voice lowered confidentially until her last sentence had in it something - of the tone of a revelation. - </p> - <p> - 'That will make the time pass in a rather lively way for Dolly,' said - George, pulling his long iron-grey moustache as he smiled thoughtfully, - looking into Mrs. Crawford's face. - </p> - <p> - 'Now, George, you must fully recognise the great responsibility resting - with you—I certainly feel how much devolves upon myself, being as I - am, her father's oldest friend in the colony, and having had the dear - child in my care during the voyage.' - </p> - <p> - 'Nothing could be stronger than your claims.' - </p> - <p> - 'Then is it not natural that I should feel anxious about her, George? This - is not India, you must remember.' - </p> - <p> - 'No, no,' said the colonel thoughtfully; 'it's not India.' He was trying - to grasp the exact thread of reasoning his old friend was using in her - argument. He could not at once see why the fact of Cape Town not being - situated in the Empire of Hindustan should cause one's responsible duties - to increase in severity. - </p> - <p> - 'You know what I mean, George. In India marriage is marriage, and a - certain good, no matter who is concerned in it. It is one's duty there to - get a girl married, and there is no blame to be attached to one if - everything doesn't turn out exactly as one could have wished.' - </p> - <p> - 'Ah, yes, exactly,' said the colonel, beginning to comprehend. 'But I - think you have not much to reproach yourself with, Kate; almost every mail - brought you out an instalment of the youth and beauty of home, and I don't - think that one ever missed fire—failed to go off, you know.' - </p> - <p> - 'Well, yes, I may say I was fortunate, George,' she replied, with a smile - of reflective satisfaction. 'But this is not India, George; we must be - very careful. I observed Daireen carefully on the voyage, and I can safely - say that the dear child has yet formed no attachment.' - </p> - <p> - 'Formed an attachment? You mean—oh Kate, the idea is too absurd,' - said Colonel Gerald. 'Why, she is a child—a baby.' - </p> - <p> - 'Of course all fathers think such things about their girls,' said the lady - with a pitying smile. 'They understand their boys well enough, and take - good care to make them begin to work not a day too late, but their girls - are all babies. Why, George, Daireen must be nearly twenty.' - </p> - <p> - Colonel Gerald was thoughtful for some moments. 'So she is,' he said; 'but - she is still quite a baby.' - </p> - <p> - 'Even so,' said the lady, 'a baby's tastes should be turned in the right - direction. By the way, I have been asked frequently who is this young Mr. - MacDermot who came out to you in such a peculiar fashion. People are - beginning to talk curiously about him.' - </p> - <p> - 'As people at the Cape do about everyone,' said the colonel. 'Poor - Standish might at least have escaped criticism.' - </p> - <p> - 'I scarcely think so, George, considering how he came out.' - </p> - <p> - 'Well, it was rather what people who do not understand us call an Irish - idea. Poor boy!' - </p> - <p> - 'Who is he, George?' 'The son of one of our oldest friends. The friendship - has existed between his family and mine for some hundreds of years.' - </p> - <p> - 'Why did he come out to the Cape in that way?' - </p> - <p> - 'My dear Kate, how can I tell you everything?' said the puzzled colonel. - 'You would not understand if I were to try and explain to you how this - Standish MacDermot's father is a genuine king, whose civil list - unfortunately does not provide for the travelling expenses of the members - of his family, so that the young man thought it well to set out as he - did.' 'I hope you are not imposing on me, George. Well, I must be - satisfied, I suppose. By the way, you have not yet been to the room where - Mr. Glaston's pictures are hung; we must not neglect to see them. Mr. - Glaston told me just now he thought Daireen's taste perfect.' - </p> - <p> - 'That was very kind of Mr. Glaston.' - </p> - <p> - 'If you knew him as I do, George—in fact as he is known in the most - exclusive drawing-rooms in London—you would understand how much his - commendation is worth,' said Mrs. Crawford. - </p> - <p> - 'I have no doubt of it. He must come out to us some evening to dinner. For - his father's sake I owe him some attention, if not for his remark to you - just now.' - </p> - <p> - 'I hope you may not forget to ask him,' said Mrs. Crawford. 'He is a most - remarkable young man. Of course he is envied by the less accomplished, and - you may hear contradictory reports about him. But, believe me, he is - looked upon in London as the leader of the most fashionable—that is—the - most—not most learned—no, the most artistic set in town. Very - exclusive they are, but they have done ever so much good—designing - dados, you know, and writing up the new pomegranate cottage wall-paper.' - </p> - <p> - 'I am afraid that Mr. Glaston will find my Hutch cottage deficient in - these elements of decoration,' remarked the colonel. - </p> - <p> - 'I wanted to talk to you about him for a long time,' said Mrs. Crawford. - 'Not knowing how you might regard the subject, I did not think it well to - give him too much encouragement on the voyage, George, so that perhaps he - may have thought me inclined to repel him, Daireen being in my care; but I - am sure that all may yet be well. Hush! who is it that is laughing so - loud? they are coming this way. Ah, Mr. Markham and that little Lottie - Vincent. Good gracious, how long that girl is in the field, and how well - she wears her age! Doesn't she look quite juvenile?' - </p> - <p> - Colonel Gerald could not venture an answer before the young lady, who was - the eldest daughter of the deputy surgeon-general, tripped up to Mrs. - Crawford, and cried, clasping her four-button strawberry-ice-coloured - gloves over the elder lady's plump arm, 'Dear good Mrs. Crawford, I have - come to you in despair to beg your assistance. Promise me that you will do - all you can to help me.' 'If your case is so bad, Lottie, I suppose I - must. But what am I to do?' - </p> - <p> - 'You are to make Mr. Markham promise that he will take part in our - theatricals next month. He can act—I know he can act like Irving or - Salvini or Terry or Mr. Bancroft or some of the others, and yet he will - not promise to take any part. Could anything be more cruel?' - </p> - <p> - 'Nothing, unless I were to take some part,' said Mr. Markham, laughing. - </p> - <p> - 'Hush, sir,' cried the young lady, stamping her Pinet shoe upon the - ground, and taking care in the action to show what a remarkably - well-formed foot she possessed. - </p> - <p> - 'It is cruel of you to refuse a request so offered, Mr. Markham,' said - Mrs. Crawford. 'Pray allow yourself to be made amenable to reason, and - make Miss Vincent happy for one evening.' - </p> - <p> - 'Since you put it as a matter of reason, Mrs. Crawford, there is, I fear, - no escape for me,' said Mr. Markham. - </p> - <p> - 'Didn't I talk to you about reason, sir?' cried the young lady in very - pretty mock anger. - </p> - <p> - 'You talked <i>about</i> it,' said Markham, 'just as we walked about that - centre bed of cactus, we didn't once touch upon it, you know. You talk - very well about a subject, Miss Vincent.' - </p> - <p> - 'Was there ever such impertinence? Mrs. Crawford, isn't it dreadful? But - we have secured him for our cast, and that is enough. You will take a - dozen tickets of course, Colonel Gerald?' - </p> - <p> - 'I can confidently say the object is most worthy,' said Markham. - </p> - <p> - 'And he doesn't know what it is yet,' said Lottie. - </p> - <p> - 'That's why I can confidently recommend it.' - </p> - <p> - 'Now do give me five minutes with Colonel Gerald, like a good dear,' cried - the young lady to Mrs. Crawford! 'I must persuade him.' - </p> - <p> - 'We are going to see Mr. Glaston's pictures,' replied Mrs. Crawford. - </p> - <p> - 'How delightful! That is what I have been so anxious to do all the - afternoon: one feels so delightfully artistic, you know, talking about - pictures; and people think one knows all about them. Do let us go with - you, Mrs. Crawford. I can talk to Colonel Gerald while you go on with Mr. - Markham.' - </p> - <p> - 'You are a sad little puss,' said Mrs. Crawford, shaking her finger at the - artless and ingenuous maiden; and as she walked on with Mr. Markham she - could not help remembering how this little puss had caused herself to be - pretty hardly spoken about some ten years before at the Arradambad station - in the Himalayahs. - </p> - <p> - How well she was wearing her age to be sure, Mrs. Crawford thought. It is - not many young ladies who, after ten years' campaigning, can be called sad - little pusses; but Miss Vincent still looked quite juvenile—in fact, - <i>plus Arabe qu'en Arabie</i>—more juvenile than a juvenile. - Everyone knew her and talked of her in various degrees of familiarity; it - was generally understood that an acquaintanceship of twenty-four hours' - duration was sufficient to entitle any field officer to call her by the - abbreviated form of her first name, while a week was the space allowed to - subalterns. - </p> - <h3> - END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. - </h3> - <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> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Daireen, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAIREEN *** - -***** This file should be named 51938-h.htm or 51938-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/3/51938/ - -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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- <title>
- Daireen, complete by Frank Frankfort Moore
- </title>
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Daireen, by Frank Frankfort Moore
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-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
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-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
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-Title: Daireen
- Complete
-
-Author: Frank Frankfort Moore
-
-Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51938]
-Last Updated: March 13, 2018
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
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-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAIREEN ***
-
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-
-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
-
-
-
-
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-</pre>
-
- <div style="height: 8em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- DAIREEN
- </h1>
- <h3>
- Complete
- </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>
-
-
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- <b>CONTENTS</b>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a>
- </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>
- <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER I.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent30">
- A king
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Upon whose property...
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- A damn'd defeat was made.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- A king
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Of shreds and patches.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- The very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in this box; and must
- the inheritor himself have no more? <i>Hamlet.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>Y son,” said The
- Macnamara with an air of grandeur, “my son, you've forgotten what's due”—he
- pronounced it “jew”—“to yourself, what's due to your father, what's
- due to your forefathers that bled,” and The Macnamara waved his hand
- gracefully; then, taking advantage of its proximity to the edge of the
- table, he made a powerful but ineffectual attempt to pull himself to his
- feet. Finding himself baffled by the peculiar formation of his chair, and
- not having a reserve of breath to draw upon for another exertion, he
- concealed his defeat under a pretence of feeling indifferent on the matter
- of rising, and continued fingering the table-edge as if endeavouring to
- read the initials which had been carved pretty deeply upon the oak by a
- humorous guest just where his hand rested. “Yes, my son, you've forgotten
- the blood of your ancient sires. You forget, my son, that you're the
- offspring of the Macnamaras and the O'Dermots, kings of Munster in the
- days when there were kings, and when the Geralds were walking about in
- blue paint in the woods of the adjacent barbarous island of Britain”—The
- Macnamara said “barbarious.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Geralds have been at Suanmara for four hundred years,” said Standish
- quickly, and in the tone of one resenting an aspersion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Four hundred years!” cried The Macnamara scornfully. “Four hundred years!
- What's four hundred years in the existence of a family?” He felt that this
- was the exact instant for him to rise grandly to his feet, so once more he
- made the essay, but without a satisfactory result. As a matter of fact, it
- is almost impossible to release oneself from the embrace of a heavy oak
- chair when the seat has been formed of light cane, and this cane has
- become tattered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't care about the kings of Munster—no, not a bit,” said
- Standish, taking a mean advantage of the involuntary captivity of his
- father to insult him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm dead sick hearing about them. They never did anything for me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Macnamara threw back his head, clasped his hands over his bosom, and
- gazed up to the cobwebs of the oak ceiling. “My sires—shades of the
- Macnamaras and the O'Dermots, visit not the iniquity of the children upon
- the fathers,” he exclaimed. And then there came a solemn pause which the
- hereditary monarch felt should impress his son deeply; but the son was not
- deceived into fancying that his father was overcome with emotion; he knew
- very well that his father was only thinking how with dignity he could
- extricate himself from his awkward chair, and so he was not deeply
- affected. “My boy, my boy,” the father murmured in a weak voice, after his
- apostrophe to the shades of the ceiling, “what do you mean to do? Keep
- nothing secret from me, Standish; I'll stand by you to the last.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't mean to do anything. There is nothing to be done—at least—yet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's that you say? Nothing to be done? You don't mean to say you've
- been thrifling with the young-woman's affection? Never shall a son of
- mine, and the offspring of The Macnamaras and the——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How can you put such a question to me?” said the young man indignantly.
- “I throw back the insinuation in your teeth, though you are my father. I
- would scorn to trifle with the feelings of any lady, not to speak of Miss
- Gerald, who is purer than the lily that blooms——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In the valley of Shanganagh—that's what you said in the poem, my
- boy; and it's true, I'm sure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But because you find a scrap of poetry in my writing you fancy that I
- forget my—my duty—my——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mighty sires, Standish; say the word at once, man. Well, maybe I was too
- hasty, my boy; and if you tell me that you don't love her now, I'll
- forgive all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never,” cried the young man, with the vehemence of a mediaeval burning
- martyr. “I swear that I love her, and that it would be impossible for me
- ever to think of any one else.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is cruel—cruel!” murmured The Macnamara, still thinking how he
- could extricate himself from his uneasy seat. “It is cruel for a father,
- but it must be borne—it must be borne. If our ancient house is to
- degenerate to a Saxon's level, I'm not to blame. Standish, my boy, I
- forgive you. Take your father's hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He stretched out his hand, and the young man took it. The grasp of The
- Macnamara was fervent—it did not relax until he had accomplished the
- end he had in view, and had pulled himself to his feet. Standish was about
- to leave the room, when his father, turning his eyes away from the
- tattered cane-work of the chair, that now closely resembled the star-trap
- in a pantomime, cried:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don't go yet, sir. This isn't to end here. Didn't you tell me that your
- affection was set upon this daughter of the Geralds?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is the use of continuing such questions?” cried the young man
- impatiently. The reiteration by his father of this theme—the most
- sacred to Standish's ears—was exasperating.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No son of mine will be let sneak out of an affair like this,” said the
- hereditary monarch. “We may be poor, sir, poor as a bogtrotter's dog——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And we are,” interposed Standish bitterly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But we have still the memories of the grand old times to live upon, and
- the name of Macnamara was never joined with anything but honour. You love
- that daughter of the Geralds—you've confessed it; and though the
- family she belongs to is one of these mushroom growths that's springing up
- around us in three or four hundred years—ay, in spite of the upstart
- family she belongs to, I'll give my consent to your happiness. We mustn't
- be proud in these days, my son, though the blood of kings—eh, where
- do ye mean to be going before I've done?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought you had finished.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you? well, you're mistaken. You don't stir from here until you've
- promised me to make all the amends in your power to this daughter of the
- Geralds.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Amends? I don't understand you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don't you tell me you love her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The refrain which was so delightful to the young man's ears when he
- uttered it alone by night under the pure stars, sounded terrible when
- reiterated by his father. But what could he do—his father was now
- upon his feet?
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is the use of profaning her name in this fashion?” cried Standish.
- “If I said I loved her, it was only when you accused me of it and
- threatened to turn me out of the house.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And out of the house you'll go if you don't give me a straightforward
- answer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't care,” cried Standish doggedly. “What is there here that should
- make me afraid of your threat? I want to be turned out. I'm sick of this
- place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Heavens! what has come over the boy that he has taken to speaking like
- this? Are ye demented, my son?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No such thing,” said Standish. “Only I have been thinking for the past
- few days over my position here, and I have come to the conclusion that I
- couldn't be worse off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You've been thinking, have you?” asked The Macnamara contemptuously. “You
- depart so far from the traditions of your family? Well, well,” he
- continued in an altered tone, after a pause, “maybe I've been a bad father
- to you, Standish, maybe I've neglected my duty; maybe——” here
- The Macnamara felt for his pocket-handkerchief, and having found it, he
- waved it spasmodically, and was about to throw himself into his chair when
- he recollected its defects and refrained, even though he was well aware
- that he was thereby sacrificing much of the dramatic effect up to which he
- had been working.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, father; I don't want to say that you have been anything but good to
- me, only——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I say it, my son,” said The Macnamara, mopping his brows earnestly
- with his handkerchief. “I've been a selfish old man, haven't I, now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, anything but that. You have only been too good. You have given me
- all I ever wanted—except——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Except what? Ah, I know what you mean—except money. Ah, your
- reproach is bitter—bitter; but I deserve it all, I do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, father: I did not say that at all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I'll show you, my boy, that your father can be generous once of a
- time. You love her, don't you, Standish?”
- </p>
- <p>
- His father had laid his hand upon his shoulder now, and spoke the words in
- a sentimental whisper, so that they did not sound so profane as before.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I worship the ground she treads on,” his son answered, tremulous with
- eagerness, a girlish blush suffusing his cheeks and invading the curls
- upon his forehead, as he turned his head away.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I'll show you that I can be generous. You shall have her, Standish
- Macnamara; I'll give her to you, though she is one of the new families.
- Put on your hat, my boy, and come out with me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you going out?” said Standish.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am, so order round the car, if the spring is mended. It should be, for
- I gave Eugene the cord for it yesterday.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Standish made a slight pause at the door as if about to put another
- question to his father; after a moment of thoughtfulness, however, he
- passed out in silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the door had closed—or, at least, moved upon its hinges, for
- the shifting some years previously of a portion of the framework made its
- closing an impossibility—The Macnamara put his hands deep into his
- pockets, jingling the copper coins and the iron keys that each receptacle
- contained. It is wonderful what suggestions of wealth may be given by the
- judicious handling of a few coppers and a bunch of keys, and the
- imagination of The Macnamara being particularly sanguine, he felt that the
- most scrupulous moneylender would have offered him at that moment, on the
- security of his personal appearance and the sounds of his jingling metal,
- any sum of money he might have named. He rather wished that such a
- moneylender would drop in. But soon his thoughts changed. The jingling in
- his pockets became modified, resembling in tone an unsound peal of muffled
- bells; he shook his head several times.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Macnamara, my lad, you were too weak,” he muttered to himself. “You
- yielded too soon; you should have stood out for a while; but how could I
- stand out when I was sitting in that trap?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He turned round glaring at the chair which he blamed as the cause of his
- premature relaxation. He seemed measuring its probable capacities of
- resistance; and then he raised his right foot and scrutinised the boot
- that covered it. It was not a trustworthy boot, he knew. Once more he
- glanced towards the chair, then with a sigh he put his foot down and
- walked to the window.
- </p>
- <p>
- Past the window at this instant the car was moving, drawn by a
- humble-minded horse, which in its turn was drawn by a boy in a faded and
- dilapidated livery that had evidently been originally made for a
- remarkably tall man. The length of the garment, though undeniably
- embarrassing in the region of the sleeves, had still its advantages, not
- the least of which was the concealment of a large portion of the bare legs
- of the wearer; it was obvious too that when he should mount his seat, the
- boy's bare feet would be effectually hidden, and from a livery-wearing
- standpoint this would certainly be worth consideration.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Macnamara gave a critical glance through the single transparent pane
- of the window—the pane had been honoured above its fellows by a
- polishing about six weeks before—and saw that the defective spring
- of the vehicle had been repaired. Coarse twine had been employed for this
- purpose; but as this material, though undoubtedly excellent in its way,
- and of very general utility, is hardly the most suitable for restoring a
- steel spring to its original condition of elasticity, there was a good
- deal of jerkiness apparent in the motion of the car, especially when the
- wheels turned into the numerous ruts of the drive. The boy at the horse's
- head was, however, skilful in avoiding the deeper depths, and the animal
- was also most considerate in its gait, checking within itself any unseemly
- outburst of spirit and restraining every propensity to break into a trot.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, father, I'm ready,” said Standish, entering with his hat on.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Has Eugene brushed my hat?” asked The Macnamara.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My black hat, I mean?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn't know you were going to wear it today, when you were only taking
- a drive,” said Standish with some astonishment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, my boy, I'll wear the black hat, please God, so get it brushed; and
- tell him that if he uses the blacking-brush this time I'll have his life.”
- Standish went out to deliver these messages; but The Mac-namara stood in
- the centre of the big room pondering over some weighty question.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will,” he muttered, as though a better impulse of his nature were in
- the act of overcoming an unworthy suggestion. “Yes, I will; when I'm
- wearing the black hat things should be levelled up to that standard; yes,
- I will.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Standish entered in a few minutes with his father's hat—a tall,
- old-fashioned silk hat that had at one time, pretty far remote, been
- black. The Macnamara put it on carefully, after he had just touched the
- edges with his coat-cuff to remove the least suspicion of dust; then he
- strode out followed by his son.
- </p>
- <p>
- The car was standing at the hall door, and Eugene the driver was beside
- it, giving a last look to the cordage of the spring. When The Macnamara,
- however, appeared, he sprang up and touched his forehead, with a smile of
- remarkable breadth. The Macnamara stood impassive, and in dignified
- silence, looking first at the horse, then at the car, and finally at the
- boy Eugene, while Standish remained at the other side. Eugene bore the
- gaze of the hereditary monarch pretty well on the whole, conscious of the
- abundance of his own coat. The scrutiny of The Macnamara passed gradually
- down the somewhat irregular row of buttons until it rested on the
- protruding bare feet of the boy. Then after another moment of impressive
- silence, he waved one hand gracefully towards the door, saying:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eugene, get on your boots.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER II.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent30">
- Let the world take note
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- You are the most immediate to our throne;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And with no less nobility of love
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Than that which dearest father bears his son
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Do I impart toward you.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl.
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- Hamlet.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN the head of a
- community has, after due deliberation, resolved upon the carrying out of
- any bold social step, he may expect to meet with the opposition that
- invariably obstructs the reformer's advance; so that one is tempted—nay,
- modern statesmanship compels one—to believe that secrecy until a
- projected design is fully matured is a wise, or at least an effective,
- policy. The military stratagem of a surprise is frequently attended with
- good results in dealing with an enemy, and as a friendly policy why should
- it not succeed?
- </p>
- <p>
- This was, beyond a question, the course of thought pursued by The
- Macnamara before he uttered those words to Eugene. He had not given the
- order without careful deliberation, but when he had come to the conclusion
- that circumstances demanded the taking of so bold a step, he had not
- hesitated in his utterance.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eugene was indeed surprised, and so also was Standish. The driver took off
- his hat and passed his fingers through his hair, looking down to his bare
- feet, for he was in the habit of getting a few weeks of warning before a
- similar order to that just uttered by his master was given to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you hear, or are you going to wait till the horse has frozen to the
- sod?” inquired The Macnamara; and this brought the mind of the boy out of
- the labyrinth of wonder into which it had strayed. He threw down the whip
- and the reins, and, tucking up the voluminous skirts of his coat, ran
- round the house, commenting briefly as he went along on the remarkable
- aspect things were assuming.
- </p>
- <p>
- Entering the kitchen from the rear, where an old man and two old women
- were sitting with short pipes alight, he cried, “What's the world comin'
- to at all? I've got to put on me boots.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Holy Saint Bridget,” cried a pious old woman, “he's to put on his
- brogues! An' is it The Mac has bid ye, Eugene?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sorra a sowl ilse. So just shake a coal in iviry fut to thaw thim a bit,
- alana.”
- </p>
- <p>
- While the old woman was performing this operation over the turf fire,
- there was some discussion as to what was the nature of the circumstances
- that demanded such an unusual proceeding on the part of The Macnamara.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's only The Mac himsilf that sames to know—. knock the ashes well
- about the hale, ma'am—for Masther Standish was as much put out as
- mesilf whin The Mac says—nivir moind the toes, ma'am, me fut'll
- nivir go more nor halfways up the sowl—says he, 'Git on yer boots;'
- as if it was the ordinarist thing in the world;—now I'll thry an'
- squaze me fut in.” And he took the immense boot so soon as the fiery ashes
- had been emptied from its cavity.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Mac's pride'll have a fall,” remarked the old man in the corner
- sagaciously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shouldn't wondher,” said Eugene, pulling on one of the boots. “The
- spring is patched with hemp, but it's as loikely to give way as not—holy
- Biddy, ye've left a hot coal just at the instep that's made its way to me
- bone!” But in spite of this catastrophe, the boy trudged off to the car,
- his coat's tails flapping like the foresail of a yacht brought up to the
- wind. Then he cautiously mounted his seat in front of the car, letting a
- boot protrude effectively on each side of the narrow board. The Macnamara
- and his son, who had exchanged no word during the short absence of Eugene
- in the kitchen, then took their places, the horse was aroused from its
- slumber, and they all passed down the long dilapidated avenue and through
- the broad entrance between the great mouldering pillars overclung with ivy
- and strange tangled weeds, where a gate had once been, but where now only
- a rough pole was drawn across to prevent the trespass of strange animals.
- </p>
- <p>
- Truly pitiful it was to see such signs of dilapidation everywhere around
- this demesne of Innishdermot. The house itself was an immense, irregularly
- built, rambling castle. Three-quarters of it was in utter ruin, but it had
- needed the combined efforts of eight hundred years of time and a thousand
- of Cromwell's soldiers to reduce the walls to the condition in which they
- were at present. The five rooms of the building that were habitable
- belonged to a comparatively new wing, which was supported on the eastern
- side by the gable of a small chapel, and on the western by the wall of a
- great round tower which stood like a demolished sugar-loaf high above all
- the ruins, and lodged a select number of immense owls whose eyesight was
- so extremely sensitive, it required an unusual amount of darkness for its
- preservation.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was the habitation of The Macnamaras, hereditary kings of Munster,
- and here it was that the existing representative of the royal family lived
- with his only son, Standish O'Dermot Macnamara. In front of the pile
- stretched a park, or rather what had once been a park, but which was now
- wild and tangled as any wood. It straggled down to the coastway of the
- lough, which, with as many windings as a Norwegian fjord, brought the
- green waves of the Atlantic for twenty miles between coasts a thousand
- feet in height—coasts which were black and precipitous and pierced
- with a hundred mighty caves about the headlands of the entrance, but which
- became wooded and more gentle of slope towards the narrow termination of
- the basin. The entire of one coastway, from the cliffs that broke the wild
- buffet of the ocean rollers, to the little island that lay at the
- narrowing of the waters, was the property of The Macnamara. This was all
- that had been left to the house which had once held sway over two hundred
- miles of coastway, from the kingdom of Kerry to Achill Island, and a
- hundred miles of riverway. Pasturages the richest of the world, lake-lands
- the most beautiful, mountains the grandest, woods and moors—all had
- been ruled over by The Macnamaras, and of all, only a strip of coastway
- and a ruined castle remained to the representative of the ancient house,
- who was now passing on a jaunting-car between the dilapidated pillars at
- the entrance to his desolate demesne.
- </p>
- <p>
- On a small hill that came in sight so soon as the car had passed from
- under the gaunt fantastic branches that threw themselves over the wall at
- the roadside, as if making a scrambling clutch at something indefinite in
- the air, a ruined tower stood out in relief against the blue sky of this
- August day. Seeing the ruin in this land of ruins The Macnamara sighed
- heavily—too heavily to allow of any one fancying that his emotion
- was natural.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, my son, the times have changed,” he said. “Only a few years have
- passed—six hundred or so—since young Brian Macnamara left that
- very castle to ask the daughter of the great Desmond of the Lake in
- marriage. How did he go out, my boy?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don't mean that we are now——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How did he go out?” again asked The Macnamara, interrupting his son's
- words of astonishment. “He went out of that castle with three hundred and
- sixty-five knights—for he had as many knights as there are days in
- the year.”—Here Eugene, who only caught the phonetic sense of this
- remarkable fact regarding young Brian Macnamara, gave a grin, which his
- master detected and chastised by a blow from his stick upon the mighty
- livery coat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, father,” said Standish, after the trifling excitement occasioned by
- this episode had died away—“but, father, we are surely not going——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hush, my son. The young Brian and his retinue went out one August day
- like this; and with him was the hundred harpers, the fifty pipers, and the
- thirteen noble chiefs of the Lakes, all mounted on the finest of steeds,
- and the morning sun glittering on their gems and jewels as if they had
- been drops of dew. And so they rode to the castle of Desmond, and when he
- shut the gates in the face of the noble retinue and sent out a haughty
- message that, because the young Prince Brian had slain The Desmond's two
- sons, he would not admit him as a suitor to his daughter, the noble young
- prince burnt The Desmond's tower to the ground and carried off the
- daughter, who, as the bards all agree, was the loveliest of her sex. Ah,
- that was a wooing worthy of The Mac-namaras. These are the degenerate days
- when a prince of The Macnamaras goes on a broken-down car to ask the hand
- of a daughter of the Geralds.” Here a low whistle escaped from Eugene, and
- he looked down at his boots just as The Macnamara delivered another rebuke
- to him of the same nature as the former.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But we're not going to—to—Suanmara!” cried Standish in
- dismay.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then where are we going, maybe you'll tell me?” said his father.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not there—not there; you never said you were going there. Why
- should we go there?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just for the same reason that your noble forefather Brian Macnamara went
- to the tower of The Desmond,” said the father, leaving it to Standish to
- determine which of the noble acts of the somewhat impetuous young prince
- their present excursion was designed to emulate.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you mean to say, father, that—that—oh, no one could think
- of such a thing as——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My son,” said the hereditary monarch coolly, “you made a confession to me
- this morning that only leaves me one course. The honour of The Macnamaras
- is at stake, and as the representative of the family it's my duty to
- preserve it untarnished. When a son of mine confesses his affection for a
- lady, the only course he can pursue towards her is to marry her, let her
- even be a Gerald.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I won't go on such a fool's errand,” cried the young man. “She—her
- grandfather—they would laugh at such a proposal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Desmond laughed, and what came of it, my boy?” said the Macnamara
- sternly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will not go on any farther,” cried Standish, unawed by the reference to
- the consequences of the inopportune hilarity of The Desmond. “How could
- you think that I would have the presumption to fancy for the least moment
- that—that—she—that is—that they would listen to—to
- anything I might say? Oh, the idea is absurd!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My boy, I am the head of the line of The Munster Macnamaras, and the head
- always decides in delicate matters like this. I'll not have the feeling's
- of the lady trifled with even by a son of my own. Didn't you confess all
- to me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will not go on,” the young man cried again. “She—that is—they
- will think that we mean an affront—and it is a gross insult to her—to
- them—to even fancy that—oh, if we were anything but what we
- are there would be some hope—some chance; if I had only been allowed
- my own way I might have won her in time—long years perhaps, but
- still some time. But now——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Recreant son of a noble house, have you no more spirit than a Saxon?”
- said the father, trying to assume a dignified position, an attempt that
- the jerking of the imperfect spring of the vehicle frustrated. “Mightn't
- the noblest family in Europe think it an honour to be allied with The
- Munster Macnamaras, penniless though we are?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don't go to-day, father,” said Standish, almost piteously; “no, not
- to-day. It is too sudden—my mind is not made up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But mine is, my boy. Haven't I prepared everything so that there can be
- no mistake?”—here he pressed his tall hat more firmly upon his
- forehead, and glanced towards Eugene's boots that projected a considerable
- way beyond the line of the car. “My boy,” he continued, “The Macnamaras
- descend to ally themselves with any other family only for the sake of
- keeping up the race. It's their solemn duty.'
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll not go on any farther on such an errand—I will not be such a
- fool,” said Standish, making a movement on his side of the car.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My boy,” said The Macnamara unconcernedly, “my boy, you can get off at
- any moment; your presence will make no difference in the matter. The
- matrimonial alliances of The Macnamaras are family matters, not
- individual. The head of the race only is accountable to posterity for the
- consequences of the acts of them under him. I'm the head of the race.” He
- removed his hat and looked upward, somewhat jerkily, but still
- impressively.
- </p>
- <p>
- Standish Macnamara's eyes flashed and his hands clenched themselves over
- the rail of the car, but he did not make any attempt to carry out his
- threat of getting off. He did not utter another word. How could he? It was
- torture to him to hear his father discuss beneath the ear of the boy
- Eugene such a question as his confession of love for a certain lady. It
- was terrible for him to observe the expression of interest which was
- apparent upon the ingenuous face of Eugene, and to see his nods of
- approval at the words of The Macnamara. What could poor Standish do beyond
- closing his teeth very tightly and clenching his hands madly as the car
- jerked its way along the coast of Lough Suangorm, in view of a portion of
- the loveliest scenery in the world?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER III.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Seem to me all the uses of this world.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Gather by him, as he is behaved,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- If't be the affliction of his love or no
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- That thus he suffers for.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Break my heart, for I must hold my tongue.
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- Hamlet.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE road upon which
- the car was driving was made round an elevated part of the coast of the
- lough. It curved away from where the castle of The Macnamaras was situated
- on one side of the water, to the termination of the lough. It did not
- slope downwards in the least at any part, but swept on to the opposite
- lofty shore, five hundred feet above the great rollers from the Atlantic
- that spent themselves amongst the half-hidden rocks.
- </p>
- <p>
- The car jerked on in silence after The Macnamara had spoken his impressive
- sentence. Standish's hands soon relaxed their passionate hold upon the
- rail of the car, and, in spite of his consciousness of being twenty-three
- years of age, he found it almost impossible to restrain his tears of
- mortification from bursting their bonds. He knew how pure—how
- fervent—how exhaustless was the love that filled all his heart. He
- had been loving, not without hope, but without utterance, for years, and
- now all the fruit of his patience—of his years of speechlessness—would
- be blighted by the ridiculous action of his father. What would now be left
- for him in the world? he asked himself, and the despairing tears of his
- heart gave him his only answer.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was on the seaward side of the car, which was now passing out of the
- green shade of the boughs that for three miles overhung the road. Then as
- the curve of the termination of the lough was approached, the full
- panorama of sea and coast leapt into view, with all the magical glamour
- those wizards Motion and Height can enweave round a scene. Far beneath,
- the narrow band of blue water lost itself amongst the steep cliffs. The
- double coasts of the lough that were joined at the point of vision,
- broadened out in undulating heights towards the mighty headlands of the
- entrance, that lifted up their hoary brows as the lion-waves of the
- Atlantic leapt between them and crouched in unwieldy bulk at their bases.
- Far away stretched that ocean, its horizon lost in mist; and above the
- line of rugged coast-cliff arose mountains—mighty masses tumbled
- together in black confusion, like Titanic gladiators locked in the close
- throes of the wrestle.
- </p>
- <p>
- Never before had the familiar scene so taken Standish in its arms, so to
- speak, as it did now. He felt it. He looked down at the screen islands of
- the lough encircled with the floss of the moving waters; he looked along
- the slopes of the coasts with the ruins of ancient days on their summits,
- then his eyes went out to where the sun dipped towards the Atlantic, and
- he felt no more that passion of mortification which his reflections had
- aroused. Quickly as it had sprung into view the scene dissolved, as the
- car entered a glen, dim in the shadow of a great hill whose slope, swathed
- in purple heather to its highest peak, made a twilight at noon-day to all
- beneath. In the distance of the winding road beyond the dark edge of the
- mountain were seen the gray ridges of another range running far inland.
- With the twilight shadow of the glen, the shadow seemed to come again over
- the mind of Standish. He gave himself up to his own sad thoughts, and
- when, from a black tarn amongst the low pine-trees beneath the road, a
- tall heron rose and fled silently through the silent air to the foot of
- the slope, he regarded it ominously, as he would have done a raven.
- </p>
- <p>
- There they sat speechless upon the car. The Macnamara, who was a short,
- middle-aged man with a rather highly-coloured face, and features that not
- even the most malignant could pronounce of a Roman or even of a Saxon
- type, was sitting in silent dignity of which he seemed by no means
- unconscious Standish, who was tall, slender almost to a point of lankness,
- and gray-eyed, was morosely speechless, his father felt. Nature had not
- given The Macnamara a son after his own heart. The young man's features,
- that had at one time showed great promise of developing into the pure
- Milesian, had not fulfilled the early hope they had raised in his father's
- bosom; they had within the past twelve years exhibited a downward tendency
- that was not in keeping with the traditions of The Macnamaras. If the
- direction of the caressing hand of Nature over the features of the family
- should be reversed, what would remain to distinguish The Macnamaras from
- their Saxon invaders? This was a question whose weight had for some time
- oppressed the representative of the race; and he could only quiet his
- apprehension by the assurance which forced itself upon his mind, that
- Nature would never persist in any course prejudicial to her own interests
- in the maintenance of an irreproachable type of manhood.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then it was a great grief to the father to become aware of the fact that
- the speech of Standish was all unlike his own in accent; it was, indeed,
- terribly like the ordinary Saxon speech—at least it sounded so to
- The Macnamara, whose vowels were diphthongic to a marked degree. But of
- course the most distressing reflection of the head of the race had
- reference to the mental disqualifications of his son to sustain the
- position which he would some day have to occupy as The Macnamara; for
- Standish had of late shown a tendency to accept the position accorded to
- him by the enemies of his race, and to allow that there existed a certain
- unwritten statute of limitations in the maintenance of the divine right of
- monarchs. He actually seemed to be under the impression that because nine
- hundred years had elapsed since a Macnamara had been the acknowledged king
- of Munster, the claim to be regarded as a royal family should not be
- strongly urged. This was very terrible to The Macnamara. And now he
- reflected upon all these matters as he held in a fixed and fervent grasp
- the somewhat untrustworthy rail of the undoubtedly shaky vehicle.
- </p>
- <p>
- Thus in silence the car was driven through the dim glen, until the slope
- on the seaward-side of the road dwindled away and once more the sea came
- in sight; and, with the first glimpse of the sea, the square tower of an
- old, though not an ancient, castle that stood half hidden by trees at the
- base of the purple mountain. In a few minutes the car pulled up at the
- entrance gate to a walled demesne.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will yer honours git off here?” asked Eugene, preparing to throw the
- reins down.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never!” cried The Macnamara emphatically. “Never will the head of the
- race descend to walk up to the door of a foreigner. Drive up to the very
- hall, Eugene, as the great Brian Macnamara would have done.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “An' it's hopin' I am that his car-sphrings wouldn't be mindid with hemp,”
- remarked the boy, as he pulled the horse round and urged his mild career
- through the great pillars at the entrance.
- </p>
- <p>
- Everything about this place gave signs of having been cared for. The
- avenue was long, but it could be traversed without any risk of the vehicle
- being lost in the landslip of a rut. The grass around the trees, though by
- no means trimmed at the edges, was still not dank with weeds, and the
- trees themselves, if old, had none of the gauntness apparent in all the
- timber about the castle of The Macnamara. As the car went along there was
- visible every now and again the flash of branching antlers among the green
- foliage, and more than once the stately head of a red deer appeared gazing
- at the visitors, motionless, as if the animal had been a painted statue.
- </p>
- <p>
- The castle, opposite whose black oak door Eugene at last dropped his
- reins, was by no means an imposing building. It was large and square, and
- at one wing stood the square ivy-covered tower that was seen from the
- road. Above it rose the great dark mountain ridge, and in front rolled the
- Atlantic, for the trees prevented the shoreway from being seen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eugene, knock at the door of the Geralds,” said The Macnamara from his
- seat on the car, with a dignity the emphasis of which would have been
- diminished had he dismounted.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eugene—looked upward at this order, shook his head in wonderment,
- and then got down, but not with quite the same expedition as his boot,
- which could not sustain the severe test of being suspended for any time in
- the air. He had not fully secured it again on his bare foot before a laugh
- sounded from the balcony over the porch—a laugh that made Standish's
- face redder than any rose—that made Eugene glance up with a grin and
- touch his hat, even before a girl's voice was heard saying:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Eugene, Eugene! What a clumsy fellow you are, to be sure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, don't be a sayin' of that, Miss Daireen, ma'am,” the boy replied, as
- he gave a final stamp to secure possession of the boot.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Macnamara looked up and gravely removed his hat; but Standish having
- got down from the car turned his gaze seawards. Had he followed his
- father's example, he would have seen the laughing face and the graceful
- figure of a girl leaning over the balustrade of the porch surveying the
- group beneath her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And how do you do, Macnamara?” she said. “No, no, don't let Eugene knock;
- all the dogs are asleep except King Cormac, and I am too grateful to allow
- their rest to be broken. I'll go down and give you entrance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She disappeared from the balcony, and in a few moments the hall door was
- softly sundered and the western sunlight fell about the form of the
- portress. The girl was tall and exquisitely moulded, from her little blue
- shoe to her rich brown hair, over which the sun made light and shade; her
- face was slightly flushed with her rapid descent and the quick kiss of the
- sunlight, and her eyes were of the most gracious gray that ever shone or
- laughed or wept. But her mouth—it was a visible song. It expressed
- all that song is capable of suggesting—passion of love or of anger,
- comfort of hope or of charity.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Enter, O my king-,” she said, giving The Macnamara her hand; then turning
- to Standish, “How do you do, Standish? Why do you not come in?”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Standish uttered no word. He took her hand for a second and followed
- his father into the big square oaken hall. All were black oak, floor and
- wall and ceiling, only while the sunlight leapt through the open door was
- the sombre hue relieved by the flashing of the arms that lined the walls,
- and the glittering of the enormous elk-antlers that spread their branches
- over the lintels.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you drove all round the coast to see me, I hope,” said the girl, as
- they stood together under the battle-axes of the brave days of old, when
- the qualifications for becoming a successful knight and a successful
- blacksmith were identical.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We drove round to admire the beauty of the lovely Daireen,” said The
- Macnamara, with a flourish of the hand that did him infinite credit.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If that is all,” laughed the girl, “your visit will not be a long one.”
- She was standing listlessly caressing with her hand the coarse hide of
- King Corrnac, a gigantic Wolf-dog, and in that posture looked like a
- statue of the Genius of her country. The dog had been welcoming Standish a
- moment before, and the young man's hand still resting upon its head, felt
- the casual touch of the girl's fingers as she played with the animal's
- ears. Every touch sent a thrill of passionate delight through him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The beauty of the daughter of the Geralds is worth coming so far to see;
- and now that I look at her before me——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now you know that it is impossible to make out a single feature in this
- darkness,” said Daireen. “So come along into the drawing-room.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go with the lovely Daireen, my boy,” said The Macnamara, as the girl led
- the way across the hall. “For myself, I think I'll just turn in here.” He
- opened a door at one side of the hall and exposed to view, within the room
- beyond, a piece of ancient furniture which was not yet too decrepit to
- sustain the burden of a row of square glass bottles and tumblers. But
- before he entered he whispered to Standish with an appropriate action,
- “Make it all right with her by the time come I back.” And so he vanished.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Macnamara is right,” said Daireen. “You must join him in taking a
- glass of wine after your long drive, Standish.”
- </p>
- <p>
- For the first time since he had spoken on the car Standish found his
- voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do not want to drink anything, Daireen,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then we shall go round to the garden and try to find grandpapa, if you
- don't want to rest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- With her brown unbonneted hair tossing in its irregular strands about her
- neck, she went out by a door at the farther end of the square hall, and
- Standish followed her by a high-arched passage that seemed to lead right
- through the building. At the extremity was an iron gate which the girl
- unlocked, and they passed into a large garden somewhat wild in its growth,
- but with its few brilliant spots of colour well brought out by the general
- <i>feeling</i> of purple that forced itself upon every one beneath the
- shadow of the great mountain-peak. Very lovely did that world of heather
- seem now as the sun burned over against the slope, stirring up the
- wonderful secret hues of dark blue and crimson. The peak stood out in bold
- relief against the pale sky, and above its highest point an eagle sailed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have such good news for you, Standish,” said Miss Gerald. “You cannot
- guess what it is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I cannot guess what good news there could possibly be in store for me,”
- he replied, with so much sadness in his voice that the girl gave a little
- start, and then the least possible smile, for she was well aware that the
- luxury of sadness was frequently indulged in by her companion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is good news for you, for me, for all of us, for all the world, for—well,
- for everybody that I have not included. Don't laugh at me, please, for my
- news is that papa is coming home at last. Now, isn't that good news?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am very glad to hear it,” said Standish. “I am very glad because I know
- it will make you happy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How nicely said; and I know you feel it, my dear Standish. Ah, poor papa!
- he has had a hard time of it, battling with the terrible Indian climate
- and with those annoying people.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is a life worth living,” cried Standish. “After you are dead the world
- feels that you have lived in it. The world is the better for your life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are right,” said Daireen. “Papa leaves India crowned with honours, as
- the newspapers say. The Queen has made him a C.B., you know. But—only
- think how provoking it is—he has been ordered by the surgeon of his
- regiment to return by long-sea, instead of overland, for the sake of his
- health; so that though I got his letter from Madras yesterday to tell me
- that he was at the point of starting, it will be another month before I
- can see him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But then he will no doubt have completely recovered,” said Standish.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is my only consolation. Yes; he will be himself again—himself
- as I saw him five years ago in our bungalow—how well I remember it
- and its single plantain-tree in the garden where the officers used to hunt
- me for kisses.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Standish frowned. It was, to him, a hideous recollection for the girl to
- have. He would cheerfully have undertaken the strangulation of each of
- those sportive officers. “I should have learned a great deal during these
- five years that have passed since I was sent to England to school, but I'm
- afraid I didn't. Never mind, papa won't cross-examine me to see if his
- money has been wasted. But why do you look so sad, Standish? You do look
- sad, you know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I feel it too,” he cried. “I feel more wretched than I can tell you. I'm
- sick of everything here—no, not here, you know, but at home. There I
- am in that cursed jail, shut out from the world, a beggar without the
- liberty to beg.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Standish!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it is the truth, Daireen. I might as well be dead as living as I am.
- Yes, better—I wish to God I was dead, for then there might be at
- least some chance of making a beginning in a new sort of life under
- different conditions.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Isn't it wicked to talk that way, Standish?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't know,” he replied doggedly. “Wickedness and goodness have ceased
- to be anything more to me than vague conditions of life in a world I have
- nothing to say to. I cannot be either good or bad here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen looked very solemn at this confession of impotence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You told me you meant to speak to The Mac-namara about going away or
- doing something,” she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I did speak to him, but it came to the one end: it was a disgrace for
- the son of the——— bah, you know how he talks. Every
- person of any position laughs at him; only those worse than himself think
- that he is wronged. But I'll do something, if it should only be to enlist
- as a common soldier.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Standish, do not talk that way, like a good boy,” she said, laying her
- hand upon his arm. “I have a bright thought for the first time: wait just
- for another month until papa is here, and he will, you may be sure, tell
- you what is exactly right to do. Oh, there is grandpapa, with his gun as
- usual, coming from the hill.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They saw at a little distance the figure of a tall old man carrying a gun,
- and followed by a couple of sporting dogs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Daireen,” said Standish, stopping suddenly as if a thought had just
- struck him. “Daireen, promise me that you will not let anything my father
- may say here to-day make you think badly of me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good gracious! why should I ever do that? What is he going to say that is
- so dreadful?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I cannot tell you, Daireen; but you will promise me;” he had seized her
- by the hand and was looking with earnest entreaty into her eyes.
- “Daireen,” he continued, “you will give me your word. You have been such a
- friend to me always—such a good angel to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And we shall always be friends, Standish. I promise you this. Now let go
- my hand, like a good boy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He obeyed her, and in a few minutes they had met Daireen's grandfather,
- Mr. Gerald, who had been coming towards them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, The Macnamara here? then I must hasten to him,” said the old
- gentleman, handing his gun to Standish.
- </p>
- <p>
- No one knew better than Mr. Gerald the necessity that existed for
- hastening to The Macnamara, in case of his waiting for a length of time in
- that room the sideboard of which was laden with bottles.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IV.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- And now, Laertes, what's the news with you?
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- You told us of some suit: what is't, Laertes?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow' leave
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- By laboursome petition; and at last,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Upon his will I sealed my hard consent.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Horatio. There's no offence, my lord.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Hamlet. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And much offence too.
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- —Hamlet.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE Macnamara had
- been led away from his companionship in that old oak room by the time his
- son and Miss Gerald returned from the garden, and the consciousness of his
- own dignity seemed to have increased considerably since they had left him.
- This emotion was a variable possession with him: any one acquainted with
- his habits could without difficulty, from knowing the degree of dignity he
- manifested at any moment, calculate minutely the space of time, he must of
- necessity have spent in a room furnished similarly to that he had just now
- left.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was talking pretty loudly in the room to which he had been led by Mr.
- Gerald when Daireen and Standish entered; and beside him was a whitehaired
- old lady whom Standish greeted as Mrs. Gerald and the girl called
- grandmamma—an old lady with very white hair but with large dark eyes
- whose lustre remained yet undimmed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Standish will reveal the mystery,” said this old lady, as the young man
- shook hands with her. “Your father has been speaking in proverbs,
- Standish, and we want your assistance to read them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is my son,” said The Macnamara, waving his hand proudly and lifting up
- his head. “He will hear his father speak on his behalf. Head of the
- Geralds, Gerald-na-Tor, chief of the hills, the last of The Macnamaras,
- king's of Munster, Innishdermot, and all islands, comes to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I am honoured by his visit, and glad to find him looking so well.”
- said Mr. Gerald. “I am only sorry you can't make it suit you to come
- oftener, Macnamara.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's that boy Eugene that's at fault,” said The Macnamara, dropping so
- suddenly into a colloquial speech from his eloquent Ossianic strain that
- one might have been led to believe his opening words were somewhat forced.
- “Yes, my lad,” he continued, addressing Mr. Gerald; “that Eugene is either
- breaking the springs or the straps or his own bones.” Here he recollected
- that his mission was not one to be expressed in this ordinary vein. He
- straightened himself in an instant, and as he went on asserted even more
- dignity than before. “Gerald, you know my position, don't you? and you
- know your 'own; but you can't say, can you, that The Macnamara ever held
- himself aloof from your table by any show of pride? I mixed with you as if
- we were equals.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Again he waved his hand patronisingly, but no one showed the least sign of
- laughter. Standish was in front of one of the windows leaning his head
- upon his hand as he looked out to the misty ocean. “Yes, I've treated you
- at all times as if you had been born of the land, though this ground we
- tread on this moment was torn from the grasp of The Macnamaras by fraud.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “True, true—six hundred years ago,” remarked Mr. Gerald. He had been
- so frequently reminded of this fact during his acquaintance with The
- Macnamara, he could afford to make the concession he now did.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I've not let that rankle in my heart,” continued The Macnamara; “I've
- descended to break bread with you and to drink—drink water with you—ay,
- at times. You know my son too, and you know that if he's not the same as
- his father to the backbone, it's not his father that's to blame for it. It
- was the last wish of his poor mother—rest her soul!—that he
- should be schooled outside our country, and you know that I carried out
- her will, though it cost me dear. He's been back these four years, as you
- know—what's he looking out at at the window?—but it's only
- three since he found out the pearl of the Lough Suangorm—the diamond
- of Slieve Docas—the beautiful daughter of the Geralds. Ay, he
- confessed to me this morning where his soft heart had turned, poor boy.
- Don't be blushing, Standish; the blood of the Macnamaras shouldn't betray
- itself in their cheeks.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Standish had started away from the window before his father had ended; his
- hands were clenched, and his cheeks were burning with shame. He could not
- fail to see the frown that was settling down upon the face of Mr. Gerald.
- But he dared not even glance towards Daireen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear Macnamara, we needn't talk on this subject any farther just now,”
- said the girl's grandfather, as the orator paused for an instant.
- </p>
- <p>
- But The Macnamara only gave his hand another wave before he proceeded. “I
- have promised my boy to make him happy,” he said, “and you know what the
- word of a Macnamara is worth even to his son; so, though I confess I was
- taken aback at first, yet I at last consented to throw over my natural
- family pride and to let my boy have his way. An alliance between the
- Macnamaras and the Geralds is not what would have been thought about a few
- years ago, but The Macnamaras have always been condescending.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes, you condescend to a jest now and again with us, but really this
- is a sort of mystery I have no clue to,” said Mr. Gerald.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mystery? Ay, it will astonish the world to know that The Macnamara has
- given his consent to such an alliance; it must be kept secret for a while
- for fear of its effects upon the foreign States that have their eyes upon
- all our steps. I wouldn't like this made a State affair at all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear Macnamara, you are usually very lucid,” said Mr. Gerald, “but
- to-day I somehow cannot arrive at your meaning.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, sir?” cried The Macnamara, giving his head an angry twitch. “What,
- sir, do you mean to tell me that you don't understand that I have given my
- consent to my son taking as his wife the daughter of the Geralds?—see
- how the lovely Daireen blushes like a rose.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen was certainly blushing, as she left her seat and went over to the
- farthest end of the room. But Standish was deadly pale, his lips tightly
- closed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Macnamara, this is absurd—quite absurd!” said Mr. Gerald, hastily
- rising. “Pray let us talk no more in such a strain.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then The Macnamara's consciousness of his own dignity asserted itself. He
- drew himself up and threw back his head. “Sir, do you mean to put an
- affront upon the one who has left his proper station to raise your family
- to his own level?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don't let us quarrel, Macnamara; you know how highly I esteem you
- personally, and you know that I have ever looked upon the family of the
- Macnamaras as the noblest in the land.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And it is the noblest in the land. There's not a drop of blood in our
- veins that hasn't sprung from the heart of a king,” cried The Macnamara.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, yes, I know it; but—well, we will not talk any further to-day.
- Daireen, you needn't go away.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Heavens! do you mean to say that I haven't spoken plainly enough, that——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, Macnamara, I must really interrupt you——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Must you?” cried the representative of the ancient line, his face
- developing all the secret resources of redness it possessed. “Must you
- interrupt the hereditary monarch of the country where you're but an
- immigrant when he descends to equalise himself with you? This is the
- reward of condescension! Enough, sir, you have affronted the family that
- were living in castles when your forefathers were like beasts in caves.
- The offer of an alliance ought to have come from you, not from me; but
- never again will it be said that The Macnamara forgot what was due to him
- and his family. No, by the powers, Gerald, you'll never have the chance
- again. I scorn you; I reject your alliance. The Macnamara seats himself
- once more upon his ancient throne, and he tramples upon you all. Come, my
- son, look at him that has insulted your family—look at him for the
- last time and lift up your head.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The grandeur with which The Macnamara uttered this speech was
- overpowering. He had at its conclusion turned towards poor Standish, and
- waved his hand in the direction of Mr. Gerald. Then Standish seemed to
- have recovered himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, father, it is you who have insulted this family by talking as you
- have done,” he cried passionately.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Boy!” shouted The Macnamara. “Recreant son of a noble race, don't demean
- yourself with such language!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is you who have demeaned our family,” cried the son still more
- energetically. “You have sunk us even lower than we were before.” Then he
- turned imploringly towards Mr. Gerald. “You know—you know that I am
- only to be pitied, not blamed, for my father's words,” he said quietly,
- and then went to the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear boy,” said the old lady, hastening towards him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Madam!” cried The Macnamara, raising his arm majestically to stay her.
- </p>
- <p>
- She stopped in the centre of the room. Daireen had also risen, her pure
- eyes full of tears as she grasped her grandfather's hand while he laid his
- other upon her head.
- </p>
- <p>
- From the door Standish looked with passionate gratitude back to the girl,
- then rushed out.
- </p>
- <p>
- But The Macnamara stood for some moments with his head elevated, the
- better to express the scorn that was in his heart. No one made a motion,
- and then he stalked after his son.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER V.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- What advancement may I hope from thee
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- That no revenue hast...
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- To feed and clothe thee?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Guildenstern. The King, sir,—
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Hamlet. Ay, sir, what of him?
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Guild. Is in his retirement marvellous distempered.
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Hamlet. With drink, sir?
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Guild. No, my lord, rather with choler.
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Hamlet. The King doth wake to-night and takes his
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- rouse.
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Horatio. Is it a custom?
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Hamlet. Ay, marry is't:
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- But to my mind, though I am native here,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- And to the manner born, it is a custom
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- More honour'd in the breach than the observance.
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- This heavy-headed revel...
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Makes us traduced and taxed.—Hamlet.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>O do The Macnamara
- justice, while he was driving homeward upon that very shaky car round the
- lovely coast, he was somewhat disturbed in mind as he reflected upon the
- possible consequences of his quarrel with old Mr. Gerald. He was dimly
- conscious of the truth of the worldly and undeniably selfish maxim
- referring to the awkwardness of a quarrel with a neighbour. And if there
- is any truth in it as a general maxim, its value is certainly intensified
- when the neighbour in question has been the lender of sundry sums of
- money. A neighbour under these conditions should not be quarrelled with,
- he knew.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Macnamara had borrowed from Mr. Gerald, at various times, certain
- moneys which had amounted in the aggregate to a considerable sum; for
- though Daireen's grandfather was not possessed of a very large income from
- the land that had been granted to his ancestors some few hundred years
- before, he had still enough to enable him from time to time to oblige The
- Macnamara with a loan. And this reflection caused The Macnamara about as
- much mental uneasiness as the irregular motion of the vehicle did physical
- discomfort. By the time, however, that the great hill, whose heather slope
- was now wrapped in the purple shade of twilight, its highest peak alone
- being bathed in the red glory of the sunset, was passed, his mind was
- almost at ease; for he recalled the fact that his misunderstandings with
- Mr. Gerald were exactly equal in number to his visits; he never passed an
- hour at Suanmara without what would at any rate have been a quarrel but
- for Mr. Gerald's good nature, which refused to be ruffled. And as no
- reference had ever upon these occasions been made to his borrowings, The
- Macnamara felt that he had no reason to conclude that his present quarrel
- would become embarrassing through any action of Mr. Gerald's. So he tried
- to feel the luxury of the scorn that he had so powerfully expressed in the
- room at Suanmara.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mushrooms of a night's growth!” he muttered. “I trampled them beneath my
- feet. They may go down on their knees before me now, I'll have nothing to
- say to them.” Then as the car passed out of the glen and he saw before him
- the long shadows of the hills lying amongst the crimson and yellow flames
- that swept from the sunset out on the Atlantic, and streamed between the
- headlands at the entrance to the lough, he became more fixed in his
- resolution. “The son of The Macnamara will never wed with the daughter of
- a man that is paid by the oppressors of the country, no, never!”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was an allusion to the fact of Daireen's father being a colonel in
- the British army, on service in India. Then exactly between the headlands
- the sun went down in a gorgeous mist that was permeated with the glow of
- the orb it enveloped. The waters shook and trembled in the light, but the
- many islands of the lough remained dark and silent in the midst of the
- glow. The Macnamara became more resolute still. He had almost forgotten
- that he had ever borrowed a penny from Mr. Gerald. He turned to where
- Standish sat silent and almost grim.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you, boy,” said the father—“you, that threw your insults in my
- face—you, that's a disgrace to the family—I've made up my mind
- what I'll do with you; I'll—yes, by the powers, I'll disinherit
- you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But not a word did Standish utter in reply to this threat, the force of
- which, coupled with an expressive motion of the speaker, jeopardised the
- imperfect spring, and wrung from Eugene a sudden exclamation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Holy mother o' Saint Malachi, kape the sthring from breakin' yit awhile!”
- he cried devoutly.
- </p>
- <p>
- And it seemed that the driver's devotion was efficacious, for, without any
- accident, the car reached the entrance to Innishdermot, as the residence
- of the ancient monarchs had been called since the days when the waters of
- Lough Suangorm had flowed all about the castle slope, for even the lough
- had become reduced in strength.
- </p>
- <p>
- The twilight, rich and blue, was now swathing the mountains and
- overshadowing the distant cliffs, though the waters at their base were
- steel gray and full of light that seemed to shine upwards through their
- depth. Desolate, truly, the ruins loomed through the dimness. Only a
- single feeble light glimmered from one of the panes, and even this seemed
- agonising to the owls, for they moaned wildly and continuously from the
- round tower. There was, indeed, scarcely an aspect of welcome in anything
- that surrounded this home which one family had occupied for seven hundred
- years.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the car stopped at the door, however, there came a voice from an unseen
- figure, saying, in even a more pronounced accent than The Macnamara
- himself gloried in, “Wilcome, ye noble sonns of noble soyers! Wilcome back
- to the anshent home of the gloryous race that'll stand whoile there's a
- sod of the land to bear it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's The Randal himself,” said The Macnamara, looking in the direction
- from which the sound came. “And where is it that you are, Randal? Oh, I
- see your pipe shining like a star out of the ivy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- From the forest of ivy that clung about the porch of the castle the figure
- of a small man emerged. One of his hands was in his pocket, the other
- removed a short black pipe, the length of whose stem in comparison to the
- breadth of its bowl was as the proportion of Falstaff's bread to his sack.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wilcome back, Macnamara,” said this gentleman, who was indeed The Randal,
- hereditary chief of Suangorm. “An' Standish too, how are ye, my boy?”
- Standish shook hands with the speaker, but did not utter a word. “An'
- where is it ye're afther dhrivin' from?” continued The Randal.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's a long drive and a long story,” said The Macnamara.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thin for hivin's sake don't begin it till we've put boy the dinner. I'm
- goin' to take share with ye this day, and I'm afther waitin' an hour and
- more.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's welcome The Randal is every day in the week,” said The Macnamara,
- leading the way into the great dilapidated hall, where in the ancient days
- fifty men-at-arms had been wont to feast royally. Now it was black in
- night.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the room where the dinner was laid there were but two candles, and
- their feeble glimmer availed no more than to make the blotches on the
- cloth more apparent: the maps of the British Isles done in mustard and
- gravy were numerous. At each end a huge black bottle stood like a sentry
- at the border of a snowfield.
- </p>
- <p>
- By far the greater portion of the light was supplied by the blazing log in
- the fireplace. It lay not in any grate but upon the bare hearth, and
- crackled and roared up the chimney like a demon prostrate in torture. The
- Randal and his host stood before the blaze, while Standish seated himself
- in another part of the room. The ruddy flicker of the wood fire shone upon
- the faces of the two men, and the yellow glimmer of the candle upon the
- face of Standish. Here and there a polish upon the surface of the black
- oak panelling gleamed, but all the rest of the high room was dim.
- </p>
- <p>
- Salmon from the lough, venison from the forest, wild birds from the moor
- made up the dinner. All were served on silver dishes strangely worked, and
- plates of the same metal were laid before the diners, while horns mounted
- on massive stands were the drinking vessels. From these dishes The
- Macnamaras of the past had eaten, and from these horns they had drunken,
- and though the present head of the family could have gained many years'
- income had he given the metal to be melted, he had never for an instant
- thought of taking such a step. He would have starved with that plate empty
- in front of him sooner than have sold it to buy bread.
- </p>
- <p>
- Standish spoke no word during the entire meal, and the guest saw that
- something had gone wrong; so with his native tact he chatted away, asking
- questions, but waiting for no answer.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the table was cleared and the old serving-woman had brought in a
- broken black kettle of boiling water, and had laid in the centre of the
- table an immense silver bowl for the brewing of the punch, The Randal drew
- up the remnant of his collar and said: “Now for the sthory of the droive,
- Macnamara; I'm riddy whin ye fill the bowl.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Standish rose from the table and walked away to a seat at the furthest end
- of the great room, where he sat hidden in the gloom of the corner. The
- Randal did not think it inconsistent with his chieftainship to wink at his
- host.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Randal,” said The Macnamara, “I've made up my mind. I'll disinherit that
- boy, I will.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” cried The Randal eagerly. “Don't spake so loud, man; if this should
- git wind through the counthry who knows what might happen? Disinhirit the
- boy; ye don't mane it, Macnamara,” he continued in an excited but
- awe-stricken whisper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But by the powers, I do mean it,” cried The Macnamara, who had been
- testing the potent elements of the punch.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Disinherit me, will you, father?” came the sudden voice of Standish
- echoing strangely down the dark room. Then he rose and stood facing both
- men at the table, the red glare of the log mixing with the sickly
- candlelight upon his face and quivering hands. “Disinherit me?” he said
- again, bitterly. “You cannot do that. I wish you could. My inheritance,
- what is it? Degradation of family, proud beggary, a life to be wasted
- outside the world of life and work, and a death rejoiced over by those
- wretches who have lent you money. Disinherit me from all this, if you
- can.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Holy Saint Malachi, hare the sonn of The Macnamaras talkin' loike a
- choild!” cried The Randal.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't care who hears me,” said Standish. “I'm sick of hearing about my
- forefathers; no one cares about them nowadays. I wanted years ago to go
- out into the world and work.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Work—a Macnamara work!” cried The Randal horror-stricken.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I told you so,” said The Macnamara, in the tone of one who finds sudden
- confirmation to the improbable story of some enormity.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wanted to work as a man should to redeem the shame which our life as it
- is at present brings upon our family,” said the young man earnestly—almost
- passionately; “but I was not allowed to do anything that I wanted. I was
- kept here in this jail wasting my best years; but to-day has brought
- everything to an end. You say you will disinherit me, father, but I have
- from this day disinherited myself—I have cast off my old existence.
- I begin life from to-day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he turned away and went out of the room, leaving his father and his
- guest in dumb amazement before their punch. It was some minutes before
- either could speak. At last The Randal took adraught of the hot spirit,
- and shook his head thoughtfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor boy! poor boy! he needs to be looked after till he gets over this
- turn,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's all that girl—that Daireen of the Geralds,” said The
- Macnamara. “I found a paper with poetry on it for her this morning, and
- when I forced him he confessed that he was in love with her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “D'ye tell me that? And what more did ye do, Mac?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'll tell you,” said the hereditary prince, leaning over the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- And he gave his guest all the details of the visit to the Geralds at
- length.
- </p>
- <p>
- But poor Standish had rushed up the crumbling staircase and was lying on
- his bed with his face in his hands. It was only now he seemed to feel all
- the shame that had caused his face to be red and pale by turns in the
- drawing-room at Suanmara. He lay there in a passion of tears, while the
- great owls kept moaning and hooting in the tower just outside his window,
- making sympathetic melody to his ears.
- </p>
- <p>
- At last he arose and went over to the window and stood gazing out through
- the break in the ivy armour of the wall. He gazed over the tops of the
- trees growing in a straggling way down the slope to the water's edge. He
- could see far away the ocean, whose voice he now and again heard as the
- wind bore it around the tower. Thousands of stars glittered above the
- water and trembled upon its moving surface. He felt strong now. He felt
- that he might never weep again in the world as he had just wept. Then he
- turned to another window and sent his eyes out to where that great peak of
- Slieve Docas stood out dark and terrible among the stars. He could not see
- the house at the base of the hill, but he clenched his hands as he looked
- out, saying “Hope.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was late before he got into his bed, and it was still later when he
- awoke and heard, mingling with the cries of the night-birds, the sound of
- hoarse singing that floated upward from the room where he had left his
- father and The Randal. The prince and the chief were joining their voices
- in a native melody, Standish knew; and he was well aware that he would not
- be disturbed by the ascent of either during the night. The dormitory
- arrangements of the prince and the chief when they had dined in company
- were of the simplest nature.
- </p>
- <p>
- Standish went to sleep again, and the ancient rafters, that had heard the
- tones of many generations of Macnamaras' voices, trembled for some hours
- with the echoes from the room below, while outside the ancient owls hooted
- and the ancient sea murmured in its sleep.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VI.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent20">
- What imports this song?
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And you are stay'd for. There; my blessing with thee.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Hamlet. I do not set my life at a pin's fee...
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- It waves me forth again: I'll follow it.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Horatio. What if it tempt you toward the flood?...
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Look whether he has not changed his colour.
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- —Hamlet.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE sounds of wild
- harp-music were ascending at even from the depths of Glenmara. The sun had
- sunk, and the hues that had been woven round the west were wasting
- themselves away on the horizon. The faint shell-pink had drifted and
- dwindled far from the place of sunset. The woods of the slopes looked very
- dark now that the red glances from the west were withdrawn from their
- glossy foliage; but the heather-swathed mountains, towering through the
- soft blue air to the dark blue sky, were richly purple, as though the
- sunset hues had become entangled amongst the heather, and had forgotten to
- fly back to the west that had cast them forth.
- </p>
- <p>
- The little tarn at the foot of the lowest crags was black and still,
- waiting for the first star-glimpse, and from its marge came the wild notes
- of a harp fitfully swelling and waning; and then arose the still wilder
- and more melancholy tones of a man's voice chanting what seemed like a
- weird dirge to the fading twilight, and the language was the Irish Celtic—that
- language every song of which sounds like a dirge sung over its own death:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Why art thou gone from us, White Dove of the Irish
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- woods?
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Why art thou gone who made all the leaves tremulous with
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- the low voice of love?
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Love that tarried yet afar, though the fleet swallow had
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- come back to us—
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Love that stayed in the far lands though the primrose had
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- cast its gold by the streams—
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Love that heard not the voice sent forth from every new-budded briar—
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- This love came only when thou earnest, and rapture thrilled
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- the heart of the green land.
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Why art thou gone from us, White Dove of the Irish
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- woods?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- This is a translation of the wild lament that arose in the twilight air
- and stirred up the echoes of the rocks. Then the fitful melody of the harp
- made an interlude:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Why art thou gone from us, sweet Linnet of the Irish
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- woods?
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Why art thou gone from us whose song brought the Spring
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- to our land?
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Yea, flowers to thy singing arose from the earth in bountiful
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- bloom,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- And scents of the violet, scents of the hawthorn—all scents
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- of the spring
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Were wafted about us when thy voice was heard albeit in
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- autumn.
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- All thoughts of the spring—all its hopes woke and breathed
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- through our hearts,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Till our souls thrilled with passionate song and the perfume
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- of spring which is love.
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Why art thou gone from us, sweet Linnet of the Irish
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- woods?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Again the chaunter paused and again his harp prolonged the wailing melody.
- Then passing into a more sadly soft strain, he continued his song:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy?
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Now thou art gone the berry drops from the arbutus,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- The wind comes in from the ocean with wail and the
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- autumn is sad,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- The yellow leaves perish, whirled wild whither no one can
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- know.
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- As the crisp leaves are crushed in the woods, so our hearts
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- are crushed at thy parting;
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- As the woods moan for the summer departed, so we mourn
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- that we see thee no more.
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Into the twilight the last notes died away, and a lonely heron standing
- among the rushes at the edge of the tarn moved his head critically to one
- side as if waiting for another song with which to sympathise. But he was
- not the only listener. Far up among the purple crags Standish Macnamara
- was lying looking out to the sunset when he heard the sound of the chant
- in the glen beneath him. He lay silent while the dirge floated up the
- mountain-side and died away among the heather of the peak. But when the
- silence of the twilight came once more upon the glen, Standish arose and
- made his way downwards to where an old man with one of the small ancient
- Irish harps, was seated on a stone, his head bent across the strings upon
- which his fingers still rested. Standish knew him to be one Murrough
- O'Brian, a descendant of the bards of the country, and an old retainer of
- the Gerald family. A man learned in Irish, but not speaking an
- intelligible sentence in English.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why do you sing the Dirge of Tuathal on this evening, Murrough?” he asked
- in his native tongue, as he came beside the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What else is there left for me to sing at this time, Standish O'Dermot
- Macnamara, son of the Prince of Islands and all Munster?” said the bard.
- “There is nothing of joy left us now. We cannot sing except in sorrow.
- Does not the land seem to have sympathy with such songs, prolonging their
- sound by its own voice from every glen and mountain-face?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is true,” said Standish. “As I sat up among the cliffs of heather it
- seemed to me that the melody was made by the spirits of the glen bewailing
- in the twilight the departure of the glory of our land.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “See how desolate is all around us here,” said the bard. “Glenmara is
- lonely now, where it was wont to be gay with song and laughter; when the
- nobles thronged the valley with hawk and hound, the voice of the bugle and
- the melody of a hundred harps were heard stirring up the echoes in
- delight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But now all are gone; they can only be recalled in vain dreams,” said the
- second in this duet of Celtic mourners—the younger Marius among the
- ruins.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The sons of Erin have left her in her loneliness while the world is
- stirred with their brave actions,” continued the ancient bard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “True,” cried Standish; “outside is the world that needs Irish hands and
- hearts to make it better worth living in.” The young man was so
- enthusiastic in the utterance of his part in the dialogue as to cause the
- bard to look suddenly up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, the hands and the hearts of the Irish have done much,” he said. “Let
- the men go out into the world for a while, but let our daughters be spared
- to us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Standish gave a little start and looked inquiringly into the face of the
- bard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you mean, Murrough?” he asked slowly.
- </p>
- <p>
- The bard leant forward as if straining to catch some distant sound.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen to it, listen to it,” he said. There was a pause, and through the
- silence the moan of the far-off ocean was borne along the dim glen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is the sound of the Atlantic,” said Standish. “The breeze from the
- west carries it to us up from the lough.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Listen to it and think that she is out on that far ocean,” said the old
- man. “Listen to it, and think that Daireen, daughter of the Geralds, has
- left her Irish home and is now tossing upon that ocean; gone is she, the
- bright bird of the South—gone from those her smile lightened!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Standish neither started nor uttered a word when the old man had spoken;
- but he felt his feet give way under him. He sat down upon a crag and laid
- his head upon his hand staring into the black tarn. He could not
- comprehend at first the force of the words “She is gone.” He had thought
- of his own departure, but the possibility of Daireen's had not occurred to
- him. The meaning of the bard's lament was now apparent to him, and even
- now the melody seemed to be given back by the rocks that had heard it:
- </p>
- <p>
- Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy?
- </p>
- <p>
- The words moaned through the dim air with the sound of the distant waters
- for accompaniment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gone—gone—Daireen,” he whispered. “And you only tell me of it
- now,” he added almost fiercely to the old man, for he reflected upon the
- time he had wasted in that duet of lamentation over the ruins of his
- country. What a wretchedly trivial thing he felt was the condition of the
- country compared with such an event as the departure of Daireen Gerald.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is only since morning that she is gone,” said the bard. “It was only
- in the morning that the letter arrived to tell her that her father was
- lying in a fever at some place where the vessel called on the way home.
- And now she is gone from us, perhaps for ever.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Murrough,” said the young man, laying his hand upon the other's arm, and
- speaking in a hoarse whisper. “Tell me all about her. Why did they allow
- her to go? Where is she gone? Not out to where her father was landed?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why not there?” cried the old man, raising his head proudly. “Did a
- Gerald ever shrink from duty when the hour came? Brave girl she is, worthy
- to be a Gerald!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell me all—all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What more is there to tell than what is bound up in those three words
- 'She is gone'?” said the man. “The letter came to her grandfather and she
- saw him read it—I was in the hall—she saw his hand tremble.
- She stood up there beside him and asked him what was in the letter; he
- looked into her face and put the letter in her hand. I saw her face grow
- pale as she read it. Then she sat down for a minute, but no word or cry
- came from her until she looked up to the old man's face; then she clasped
- her hands and said only, 'I will go to him.' The old people talked to her
- of the distance, of the danger; they told her how she would be alone for
- days and nights among strangers; but she only repeated, 'I will go to
- him.' And now she is gone—gone alone over those waters.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Alone!” Standish repeated. “Gone away alone, no friend near her, none to
- utter a word of comfort in her ears!” He buried his face in his hands as
- he pictured the girl whom he had loved silently, but with all his soul,
- since she had come to her home in Ireland from India where she had lived
- with her father since the death of his wife ten years ago. He pictured her
- sitting in her loneliness aboard the ship that was bearing her away to,
- perhaps, the land of her father's grave, and he felt that now at last all
- the bitterness that could be crowded upon his life had fallen on him. He
- gazed into the black tarn, and saw within its depths a star glittering as
- it glittered in the sky above, but it did not relieve his thoughts with
- any touch of its gold.
- </p>
- <p>
- He rose after a while and gave his hand to Murrough.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you,” he said. “You have told me all better than any one else could
- have done. But did she not speak of me, Murrough—only once perhaps?
- Did she not send me one little word of farewell?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She gave me this for you,” said the old bard, producing a letter which
- Standish clutched almost wildly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank God, thank God!” he cried, hurrying away without another word. But
- after him swept the sound of the bard's lament which he commenced anew,
- with that query:
- </p>
- <p>
- Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy?
- </p>
- <p>
- It was not yet too dark outside the glen for Standish to read the letter
- which he had just received; and so soon as he found himself in sight of
- the sea he tore open the cover and read the few lines Daireen Gerald had
- written, with a tremulous hand, to say farewell to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My father has been left ill with fever at the Cape, and I know that he
- will recover only if I go to him. I am going away to-day, for the steamer
- will leave Southampton in four days, and I cannot be there in time unless
- I start at once. I thought you would not like me to go without saying
- good-bye, and God bless you, dear Standish.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will say good-bye to The Macnamara for me. I thought poor papa would
- be here to give you the advice you want. Pray to God that I may be in time
- to see him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He read the lines by the gray light reflected from the sea—he read
- them until his eyes were dim.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Brave, glorious girl!” he cried. “But to think of her—alone—alone
- out there, while I—— oh, what a poor weak fool I am! Here am I—here,
- looking out to the sea she is gone to battle with! Oh, God! oh, God! I
- must do something for her—I must—but what—what?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He cast himself down upon the heather that crawled from the slopes even to
- the road, and there he lay with his head buried in agony at the thought of
- his own impotence; while through the dark glen floated the wild, weird
- strain of the lament:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why art thou gone from us, Soul of all beauty and joy?”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VII.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- Hamlet. How chances it they travel? their residence,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- both in reputation and profit, was better both ways.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Rosencrantz. I think their inhibition comes by the means
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- of the late innovation.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Many, wearing rapiers, are afraid of goose-quills.
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- What imports the nomination of this gentleman?
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- Hamlet.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>WAY from the glens
- and the heather-clad mountains, from the blue loughs and their islands of
- arbutus, from the harp-music, and from the ocean-music which makes those
- who hear it ripe for revolt; away from the land whose life is the memory
- of ancient deeds of nobleness; away from the land that has given birth to
- more heroes than any nation in the world, the land whose inhabitants live
- in thousands in squalor and look out from mud windows upon the most
- glorious scenery in the world; away from all these one must now be borne.
- </p>
- <p>
- Upon the evening of the fourth day after the chanting of that lament by
- the bard O'Brian from the depths of Glenmara, the good steamship <i>Cardwell
- Castle</i> was making its way down Channel with a full cargo and heavy
- mails for Madeira, St. Helena, and the Cape. It had left its port but a
- few hours and already the coast had become dim with distance. The red
- shoreway of the south-west was now so far away that the level rays of
- sunlight which swept across the water were not seen to shine upon the
- faces of the rocks, or to show where the green fields joined the brown
- moorland; the windmills crowning every height were not seen to be in
- motion.
- </p>
- <p>
- The passengers were for the most part very cheerful, as passengers
- generally are during the first couple of hours of a voyage, when only the
- gentle ripples of the Channel lap the sides of the vessel. The old
- voyagers, who had thought it prudent to dine off a piece of sea-biscuit
- and a glass of brandy and water, while they watched with grim smiles the
- novices trifling with roast pork and apricot-dumplings, were now sitting
- in seats they had arranged for themselves in such places as they knew
- would be well to leeward for the greater part of the voyage, and here they
- smoked their cigars and read their newspapers just as they would be doing
- every day for three weeks. To them the phenomenon of the lessening land
- was not particularly interesting. The novices were endeavouring to look as
- if they had been used to knock about the sea all their lives; they carried
- their telescopes under their arms quite jauntily, and gave critical
- glances aloft every now and again, consulting their pocket compasses
- gravely at regular intervals to convince themselves that they were not
- being trifled with in the navigation of the vessel.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then there were, of course, those who had come aboard with the
- determination of learning in three weeks as much seamanship as should
- enable them to accept any post of marine responsibility that they might be
- called upon to fill in after life. They handled the loose tackle with a
- view of determining its exact utility, and endeavoured to trace stray
- lines to their source. They placed the captain entirely at his ease with
- them by asking him a number of questions regarding the dangers of
- boiler-bursting, and the perils of storms; they begged that he would let
- them know if there was any truth in the report which had reached them to
- the effect that the Atlantic was a very stormy place; and they left him
- with the entreaty that in case of any danger arising suddenly he would at
- once communicate with them; they then went down to put a few casual
- questions to the quartermaster who was at the wheel, and doubtless felt
- that they were making most of the people about them cheerful with their
- converse.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then there were the young ladies who had just completed their education in
- England and were now on their way to join their relations abroad. Having
- read in the course of their studies of English literature the poems of the
- late Samuel Rogers, they were much amazed to find that the mariners were
- not leaning over the ship's bulwarks sighing to behold the sinking of
- their native land, and that not an individual had climbed the mast to
- partake of the ocular banquet with indulging in which the poet has
- accredited the sailor. Towards this section the glances of several male
- eyes were turned, for most of the young men had roved sufficiently far to
- become aware of the fact that the relief of the monotony of a lengthened
- voyage is principally dependent on—well, on the relieving capacities
- of the young ladies, lately sundered from school and just commencing their
- education in the world.
- </p>
- <p>
- But far away from the groups that hung about the stern stood a girl
- looking over the side of the ship towards the west—towards the sun
- that was almost touching the horizon. She heard the laughter of the groups
- of girls and the silly questions of the uninformed, but all sounded to her
- like the strange voices of a dream; for as she gazed towards the west she
- seemed to see a fair landscape of purple slopes and green woods; the dash
- of the ripples against the ship's side came to her as the rustle of the
- breaking ripples amongst the shells of a blue lough upon whose surface a
- number of green islets raised their heads. She saw them all—every
- islet, with its moveless I shadow beneath it, and the light touching the
- edges of the leaves with red. Daireen Gerald it was who stood there
- looking out to the sunset, but seeing in the golden lands of the west the
- Irish land she knew so well.
- </p>
- <p>
- She remained motionless, with her eyes far away and her heart still
- farther, until the red sun had disappeared, and the delicate twilight
- change was slipping over the bright gray water. With every change she
- seemed to see the shifting of the hues over the heather of Slieve Docas
- and the pulsating of the tremulous red light through the foliage of the
- deer ground. It was only now that the tears forced themselves into her
- eyes, for she had not wept at parting from her grandfather, who had gone
- with her from Ireland and had left her aboard the steamer a few hours
- before; and while her tears made everything misty to her, the light
- laughter of the groups scattered about the quarter-deck sounded in her
- ears. It did not come harshly to her, for it seemed to come from a world
- in which she had no part. The things about her were as the things of a
- dream. The reality in which she was living was that which she saw out in
- the west.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come, my dear,” said a voice behind her—“Come and walk with me on
- the deck. I fancied I had lost you, and you may guess what a state I was
- in, after all the promises I made to Mr. Gerald.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was just looking out there, and wondering what they were all doing at
- home—at the foot of the dear old mountain,” said Daireen, allowing
- herself to be led away.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is what most people would call moping, dear,” said the lady who had
- come up. She was a middle-aged lady with a pleasant face, though her
- figure was hardly what a scrupulous painter would choose as a model for a
- Nausicaa.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps I was moping, Mrs. Crawford,” Daireen replied; “but I feel the
- better for it now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear, I don't disapprove of moping now and again, though as a habit it
- should not be encouraged. I was down in my cabin, and when I came on deck
- I couldn't understand where you had disappeared to. I asked the major, but
- of course, you know, he was quite oblivious to everything but the mutiny
- at Cawnpore, through being beside Doctor Campion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you have found me, you see, Mrs. Crawford.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, thanks to Mr. Glaston; he knew where you had gone; he had been
- watching you.” Daireen felt her face turning red as she thought of this
- Mr. Glaston, whoever he was, with his eyes fixed upon her movements. “You
- don't know Mr. Glaston, Daireen?—I shall call you 'Daireen' of
- course, though we have only known each other a couple of hours,” continued
- the lady. “No, of course you don't. Never mind, I'll show him to you.” For
- the promise of this treat Daireen did not express her gratitude. She had
- come to think the most unfavourable things regarding this Mr. Glaston.
- Mrs. Crawford, however, did not seem to expect an acknowledgment. Her chat
- ran on as briskly as ever. “I shall point him out to you, but on no
- account look near him for some time—young men are so conceited, you
- know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen had heard this peculiarity ascribed to the race before, and so
- when her guide, as they walked towards the stern of the vessel, indicated
- to her that a young man sitting in a deck-chair smoking a cigar was Mr.
- Glaston, she certainly did not do anything that might possibly increase in
- Mr. Glaston this dangerous tendency which Mrs. Crawford had assigned to
- young men generally.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you think of him, my dear?” asked Mrs. Crawford, when they had
- strolled up the deck once more.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of whom?” inquired Daireen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good gracious,” cried the lady, “are your thoughts still straying? Why, I
- mean Mr. Glaston, to be sure. What do you think of him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn't look at him,” the girl answered.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford searched the fair face beside her to find out if its
- expression agreed with her words, and the scrutiny being satisfactory she
- gave a little laugh. “How do you ever mean to know what he is like if you
- don't look at him?” she asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen did not stop to explain how she thought it possible that
- contentment might exist aboard the steamer even though she remained in
- ignorance for ever of Mr. Glaston's qualities; but presently she glanced
- along the deck, and saw sitting at graceful ease upon the chair Mrs.
- Crawford had indicated, a tall man of apparently a year or two under
- thirty. He had black hair which he had allowed to grow long behind, and a
- black moustache which gave every indication of having been subjected to
- the most careful youthful training. His face would not have been thought
- expressive but for his eyes, and the expression that these organs gave out
- could hardly be called anything except a neutral one: they indicated
- nothing except that nothing was meant to be indicated by them. No
- suggestion of passion, feeling, or even thoughtfulness, did they give; and
- in fact the only possible result of looking at this face which some people
- called expressive, was a feeling that the man himself was calmly conscious
- of the fact that some people were in the habit of calling his face
- expressive.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what <i>do</i> you think of him now, my dear?” asked Mrs. Crawford,
- after Daireen had gratified her by taking that look.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I really don't think that I think anything,” she answered with a little
- laugh.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is the beauty of his face,” cried Mrs. Crawford. “It sets one
- thinking.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But that is not what I said, Mrs. Crawford.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You said you did not think you were thinking anything, Daireen; and that
- meant, I know, that there was more in his face than you could read at a
- first glance. Never mind; every one is set thinking when one sees Mr.
- Glaston.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen had almost become interested in this Mr. Glaston, even though she
- could not forget that he had watched her when she did not want to be
- watched. She gave another glance towards him, but with no more profitable
- conclusion than her previous look had attained.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will tell you all about him, my child,” said Mrs. Crawford
- confidentially; “but first let us make ourselves comfortable. Dear old
- England, there is the last of it for us for some time. Adieu, adieu, dear
- old country!” There was not much sentimentality in the stout little lady's
- tone, as she looked towards the faint line of mist far astern that marked
- the English coast. She sat down with Daireen to the leeward of the
- deck-house where she had laid her rugs, and until the tea-bell rang
- Daireen had certainly no opportunity for moping.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford told her that this Mr. Glaston was a young man of such
- immense capacities that nothing lay outside his grasp either in art or
- science. He had not thought it necessary to devote his attention to any
- subject in particular; but that, Mrs. Crawford thought, was rather because
- there existed no single subject that he considered worthy of an
- expenditure of all his energies. As things unfortunately existed, there
- was nothing left for him but to get rid of the unbounded resources of his
- mind by applying them to a variety of subjects. He had, in fact, written
- poetry—never an entire volume of course, but exceedingly clever
- pieces that had been published in his college magazine. He was capable of
- painting a great picture if he chose, though he had contented himself with
- giving ideas to other men who had worked them out through the medium of
- pictures. He was one of the most accomplished of musicians; and if he had
- not yet produced an opera or composed even a song, instances were on
- record of his having performed impromptus that would undoubtedly have made
- the fame of a professor. He was the son of a Colonial Bishop, Mrs.
- Crawford told Daireen, and though he lived in England he was still dutiful
- enough to go out to pay a month's visit to his father every year.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But we must not make him conceited, Daireen,” said Mrs. Crawford, ending
- her discourse; “we must not, dear; and if he should look over and see us
- together this way, he would conclude that we were talking of him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen rose with her instructive companion with an uneasy sense of
- feeling that all they could by their combined efforts contribute to the
- conceit of a young man who would, upon grounds so slight, come to such a
- conclusion as Mrs. Crawford feared he might, would be but trifling.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the tea-bell rang, and all the novices who had enjoyed the roast pork
- and dumplings at dinner, descended to make a hearty meal of buttered toast
- and banana jelly. The sea air had given them an appetite, they declared
- with much merriment. The chief steward, however, being an experienced man,
- and knowing that in a few hours the Bay of Biscay would be entered, did
- not, from observing the hearty manner in which the novices were eating,
- feel uneasy on the matter of the endurance of the ship's stores. He knew
- it would be their last meal for some days at least, and he smiled grimly
- as he laid down another plate of buttered toast, and hastened off to send
- up some more brandy and biscuits to Major Crawford and Doctor Campion,
- whose hoarse chuckles called forth by pleasing reminiscences of Cawnpore
- were dimly heard from the deck through the cabin skylight.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VIII.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- An hour of quiet shortly shall we see;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Till then in patience our proceeding be.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- We'll put on those shall praise your excellence
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And set a double varnish on the fame
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine together.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- ... I know love is begun by time.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- I know him well: he is the brooch indeed
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And gem of all the nation.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- He made confession of you,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And gave you such a masterly report
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- For art...'twould be a sight indeed
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- If one could match you.
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- —Hamlet.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>RS. Crawford
- absolutely clung to Daireen all this evening. When the whist parties were
- formed in the cabin she brought the girl on deck and instructed her in
- some of the matters worth knowing aboard a passenger ship.
- </p>
- <p>
- “On no account bind yourself to any whist set before you look about you:
- nothing could be more dangerous,” she said confidentially. “Just think how
- terrible it would be if you were to join a set now, and afterwards to find
- out that it was not the best set. You would simply be ruined. Besides
- that, it is better to stay on deck as much as possible during the first
- day or two at sea. Now let us go over to the major and Campion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So Daireen found herself borne onward with Mrs. Crawford's arm in her own
- to where Major Crawford and Doctor Campion were sitting on their battered
- deck-chairs lighting fresh cheroots from the ashes of the expiring ends.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don't tread on the tumblers, my dear,” said the major as his wife
- advanced. “And how is Miss Gerald now that we have got under weigh? You
- didn't take any of that liquid they insult the Chinese Empire by calling
- tea, aboard ship, I hope?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just a single cup, and very weak,” said Mrs. Crawford apologetically.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear, I thought you were wiser.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will take this chair, Mrs. Crawford?” said Doctor Campion, without
- making the least pretence of moving, however.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don't think of such a thing,” cried the lady's husband; and to do Doctor
- Campion justice, he did not think of such a thing. “Why, you don't fancy
- these are our Junkapore days, do you, when Kate came out to our bungalow,
- and the boys called her the Sylph? It's a fact, Miss Gerald; my wife, as
- your father will tell you, was as slim as a lily. Ah, dear, dear! Time,
- they say, takes a lot away from us, but by Jingo, he's liberal enough in
- some ways. By Jingo, yes,” and the gallant old man kept shaking his head
- and chuckling towards his comrade, whose features could be seen puckered
- into a grin though he uttered no sound.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And stranger still, Miss Gerald,” said the lady, “the major was once
- looked upon as a polite man, and politer to his wife than to anybody else.
- Go and fetch some chairs here, Campion, like a good fellow,” she added to
- the doctor, who rose slowly and obeyed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's how my wife takes command of the entire battalion, Miss Gerald,”
- remarked the major. “Oh, your father will tell you all about her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The constant reference to her father by one who was an old friend, came
- with a cheering influence to the girl. A terrible question as to what
- might be the result of her arrival at the Cape had suggested itself to her
- more than once since she had left Ireland; but now the major did not seem
- to fancy that there could be any question in the matter.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the chairs were brought, and enveloped in karosses, as the old
- campaigners called the furs, there arose a chatter of bungalows, and
- punkahs, and puggarees, and calapashes, and curries, that was quite
- delightful to the girl's ears, especially as from time to time her
- father's name would be mentioned in connection with some elephant-trapping
- expedition, or, perhaps, a mess joke.
- </p>
- <p>
- When at last Daireen found herself alone in the cabin which her
- grandfather had managed to secure for her, she did not feel that
- loneliness which she thought she should have felt aboard this ship full of
- strangers without sympathy for her.
- </p>
- <p>
- She stood for a short time in the darkness, looking out of her cabin port
- over the long waters, and listening to the sound of the waves hurrying
- away from the ship and flapping against its sides, and once more she
- thought of the purple mountain and the green Irish Lough. Then as she
- moved away from the port her thoughts stretched in another direction—southward.
- Her heart was full of hope as she turned in to her bunk and went quietly
- asleep just as the first waves of the Bay of Biscay were making the good
- steamer a little uneasy, and bringing about a bitter remorse to those who
- had made merry over the dumplings and buttered toast.
- </p>
- <p>
- Major Crawford was an officer who had served for a good many years in
- India, and had there become acquainted with Daireen's father and mother.
- When Mr. Gerald was holding his grandchild in his arms aboard the steamer
- saying good-bye, he was surprised by a strange lady coming up to him and
- begging to be informed if it was possible that Daireen was the daughter of
- Colonel Gerald. In another instant Mr. Gerald was overjoyed to know that
- Daireen would be during the entire voyage in the company of an officer and
- his wife who were old friends of her father, and had recognised her from
- her likeness to her mother, whom they had also known when she was little
- older than Daireen. Mr. Gerald left the vessel with a mind at rest; and
- that his belief that the girl would be looked after was well-founded is
- already known. Daireen was, indeed, in the hands of a lady who was noted
- in many parts of the world for her capacities for taking charge of young
- ladies. When she was in India her position at the station was very
- similiar to that of immigration-agent-general. Fond matrons in England,
- who had brought their daughters year after year to Homburg, Kissingen, and
- Nice, in the “open” season, and had yet brought them back in safety—matrons
- who had even sunk to the low level of hydropathic hunting-grounds without
- success, were accustomed to write pathetic letters to Junkapore and
- Arradambad conveying to Mrs. Crawford intelligence of the strange fancy
- that some of the dear girls had conceived to visit those parts of the
- Indian Empire, and begging Mrs. Crawford to give her valuable advice with
- regard to the carrying out of such remarkable freaks. Never in any of
- these cases had the major's wife failed. These forlorn hopes took passage
- to India and found in her a real friend, with tact, perseverance, and
- experience. The subalterns of the station were never allowed to mope in a
- wretched, companionless condition; and thus Mrs. Crawford had achieved for
- herself a certain fame, which it was her study to maintain. Having herself
- had men-children only, she had no personal interests to look after. Her
- boys had been swaddled in puggarees, spoon-fed with curry, and nurtured
- upon chutney, and had so developed into full-grown Indians ready for the
- choicest appointments, and they had succeeded very well indeed. Her
- husband had now received a command from the War Office to proceed to the
- Cape for the purpose of obtaining evidence on the subject of the
- regulation boots to be supplied to troops on active foreign service; a
- commission upon this most important subject having been ordered by a
- Parliamentary vote. Other officers of experience had been sent to various
- of the colonies, and much was expected to result from the prosecution of
- their inquiries, the opponents of the Government being confident that
- gussets would eventually be allowed to non-commissioned officers, and back
- straps to privates.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course Major Crawford could not set out on a mission so important
- without the companionship of his wife. Though just at the instant of
- Daireen's turning in, the major fancied he might have managed to get along
- pretty well even if his partner had been left behind him in England. He
- was inclined to snarl in his cabin at nights when his wife unfolded her
- plans to him and kept him awake to give his opinion as to the possibility
- of the tastes of various young persons becoming assimilated. To-night the
- major expressed his indifference as to whether every single man in the
- ship's company got married to every single woman before the end of the
- voyage, or whether they all went to perdition singly. He concluded by
- wishing fervently that they would disappear, married and single, by a
- supernatural agency.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But think, how gratified poor Gerald would be if the dear girl could
- think as I do on this subject,” said Mrs. Crawford persistently, alluding
- to the matter of certain amalgamation of tastes. At this point, however,
- the major expressed himself in words still more vigorous than he had
- brought to his aid before, and his wife thought it prudent to get into her
- bunk without pursuing any further the question of the possible
- gratification of Colonel Gerald at the unanimity of thought existing
- between his daughter and Mrs. Crawford.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IX.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- How dangerous is it that this man goes loose...
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- He's loved of the distracted multitude,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Who like not in their judgment but their eyes:
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And where 'tis so the offender's scourge is weigh'd,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- But never the offence.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Look here upon this picture, and on this.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Thus has he—and many more of the same breed that I know the drossy
- age dotes on—only got the tune of the time... a kind of yesty
- collection which carries them through and through the most fond and
- winnowed opinions; and do but blow them to their trial, the bubbles are
- out.—<i>Hamlet</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE uneasy bosom of
- the Bay of Biscay was throbbing with its customary emotion beneath the
- good vessel, when Daireen awoke the next morning to the sound of creaking
- timbers and rioting glasses. Above her on the deck the tramp of a healthy
- passenger, who wore a pedometer and walked three miles every morning
- before breakfast, was heard, now dilating and now decreasing, as he passed
- over the cabins. He had almost completed his second mile, and was putting
- on a spurt in order to keep himself up to time; his spurt at the end of
- the first mile had effectually awakened all the passengers beneath, who
- had yet remained undisturbed through the earlier part of his tramp.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford, looking bright and fresh and good-natured, entered
- Daireen's cabin before the girl was ready to leave it. She certainly
- seemed determined that the confidence Mr. Gerald had reposed in her with
- regard to the care of his granddaughter should not prove to have been
- misplaced.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am not going in, my dear,” she said as she entered the cabin. “I only
- stepped round to see that you were all right this morning. I knew you
- would be so, though Robinson the steward tells me that even the little sea
- there is on in the bay has been quite sufficient to make about a dozen
- vacancies at the breakfast-table. People are such fools when they come
- aboard a ship—eating boiled paste and all sorts of things, and so
- the sea is grossly misrepresented. Did that dreadfully healthy Mr.
- Thompson awake you with his tramping on deck? Of course he did; he's a
- dreadful man. If he goes on like this we'll have to petition the captain
- to lay down bark on the deck. Now I'll leave you. Come aloft when you are
- ready; and, by the way, you must take care what dress you put on—very
- great care.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, I thought that aboard ship one might wear anything,” said the girl.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never was there a greater mistake, my child. People say the same about
- going to the seaside: anything will do; but you know how one requires to
- be doubly particular there; and it's just the same in our little world
- aboard ship.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You quite frighten me, Mrs. Crawford,” said Daireen. “What advice can you
- give me on the subject?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford was thoughtful. “If you had only had time to prepare for the
- voyage, and I had been beside you, everything might have been different.
- You must not wear anything pronounced—any distinct colour: you must
- find out something undecided—you understand?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen looked puzzled. “I'm sorry to say I don't.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, you have surely something of pale sage—no, that is a bad tone
- for the first days aboard—too like the complexions of most of the
- passengers—but, chocolate-gray? ah, that should do: have you
- anything in that to do for a morning dress?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen was so extremely fortunate as to be possessed of a garment of the
- required tone, and her kind friend left her arraying herself in its folds.
- </p>
- <p>
- On going aloft Daireen found the deck occupied by a select few of the
- passengers. The healthy gentleman was just increasing his pace for the
- final hundred yards of his morning's walk, and Doctor Campion had got very
- near the end of his second cheroot, while he sat talking to a fair-haired
- and bronze-visaged man with clear gray eyes that had such a way of looking
- at things as caused people to fancy he was making a mental calculation of
- the cubic measure of everything; and it was probably the recollection of
- their peculiarity that made people fancy, when these eyes looked into a
- human face, that the mind of the man was going through a similar
- calculation with reference to the human object: one could not avoid
- feeling that he had a number of formulas for calculating the intellectual
- value of people, and that when he looked at a person he was thinking which
- formula should be employed for arriving at a conclusion regarding that
- person's mental capacity.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford was chatting with the doctor and his companion, but on
- Daireen's appearing, she went over to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perfect, my child,” she said in a whisper—“the tone of the dress, I
- mean; it will work wonders.”
- </p>
- <p>
- While Daireen was reflecting upon the possibility of a suspension of the
- laws of nature being the result of the appearance of the chocolate-toned
- dress, she was led towards the doctor, who immediately went through a
- fiction of rising from his seat as she approached; and one would really
- have fancied that he intended getting upon his feet, and was only
- restrained at the last moment by a remonstrance of the girl's. Daireen
- acknowledged his courtesy, though it was only imaginary, and she was
- conscious that his companion had really risen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You haven't made the acquaintance of Miss Gerald, Mr. Harwood?” said Mrs.
- Crawford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have not had the honour,” said the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me present you, Daireen. Mr. Harwood—Miss Gerald. Now take
- great care what you say to this gentleman, Daireen; he is a dangerous man—the
- most dangerous that any one could meet. He is a detective, dear, and the
- worst of all—a literary detective; the 'special' of the <i>Domnant
- Trumpeter</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen had looked into the man's face while she was being presented to
- him, and she knew it was the face of a man who had seen the people of more
- than one nation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is not your first voyage, Miss Gerald, or you would not be on deck
- so early?” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It certainly is not,” she replied. “I was born in India, so that my first
- voyage was to England; then I have crossed the Irish Channel frequently,
- going to school and returning for the holidays; and I have also had some
- long voyages on Lough Suangorm,” she added with a little smile, for she
- did not think that her companion would be likely to have heard of the
- existence of the Irish fjord.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Suangorm? then you have had some of the most picturesque voyages one can
- make in the course of a day in this world,” he said. “Lough Suangorm is
- the most wonderful fjord in the world, let me tell you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you know it,” she cried with a good deal of surprise. “You must know
- the dear old lough or you would not talk so.” She did not seem to think
- that his assertion should imply that he had seen a good many other fjords
- also.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think I may say I know it. Yes, from those fine headlands that the
- Atlantic beats against, to where the purple slope of that great hill meets
- the little road.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know the hill—old Slieve Docas? How strange! I live just at the
- foot.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have a sketch of a mansion, taken just there,” he said, laughing. “It
- is of a dark brown exterior.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Exactly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It looks towards the sea.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It does indeed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is exceedingly picturesque.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Picturesque?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, yes; the house I allude to is very much so. If I recollect aright,
- the one window of the wall was not glazed, and the smoke certainly found
- its way out through a hole in the roof.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, that is too bad,” said Daireen. “I had no idea that the peculiarities
- of my country people would be known so far away. Please don't say anything
- about that sketch to the passengers aboard.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall never be tempted to allude, even by the 'pronouncing of some
- doubtful phrase,' to the—the—peculiarities of your country
- people, Miss Gerald,” he answered. “It is a lovely country, and contains
- the most hospitable people in the world; but their talent does not develop
- itself architecturally. Ah! there is the second bell. I hope you have an
- appetite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you been guarded enough in your conversation, Daireen?” said Mrs.
- Crawford, coming up with the doctor, whose rising at the summons of the
- breakfast-bell was by no means a fiction.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The secrets of the Home Rule Confederation are safe in the keeping of
- Miss Gerald,” said Mr. Harwood, with a smile which any one could see was
- simply the result of his satisfaction at having produced a well-turned
- sentence.
- </p>
- <p>
- The breakfast-table was very thinly attended, more so even than Robinson
- the steward had anticipated when on the previous evening he had laid down
- that second plate of buttered toast before the novices.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of the young ladies only three appeared at the table, and their
- complexions were of the softest amber shade that was ever worked in satin
- in the upholstery of mock-mediæval furniture. Major Crawford had just come
- out of the steward's pantry, and he greeted Daireen with all courtesy, as
- indeed he did the other young ladies at the table, for the major was
- gallant and gay aboard ship.
- </p>
- <p>
- After every one had been seated for about ten minutes, the curtain that
- screened off one of the cabin entrances from the saloon was moved aside,
- and the figure of the young man to whom Mrs. Crawford had alluded as Mr.
- Glaston appeared. He came slowly forward, nodding to the captain and
- saying good-morning to Mrs. Crawford, while he elevated his eyebrows in
- recognition of Mr. Harwood, taking his seat at the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can't have an appetite coming directly out of your bunk,” said the
- doctor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Indeed?” said Mr. Glaston, without the least expression.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite impossible,” said the doctor. “You should have been up an hour ago
- at least. Here is Mr. Thompson, who has walked more than three miles in
- the open air.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah,” said the other, never moving his eyes to see the modest smile that
- spread itself over the features of the exemplary Mr. Thompson. “Ah, I
- heard some one who seemed to be going in for that irrepressible thousand
- miles in a thousand hours. Yes, bring me a pear and a grape.” The last
- sentence he addressed to the waiter, who, having been drilled by the
- steward on the subject of Mr. Glaston's tastes, did not show any
- astonishment at being asked for fruit instead of fish, but hastened off to
- procure the grape and the pear.
- </p>
- <p>
- While Mr. Glaston was waiting he glanced across the table, and gave a
- visible start as his eyes rested upon one of the young ladies—a
- pleasant-looking girl wearing a pink dress and having a blue ribbon in her
- hair. Mr. Glaston gave a little shudder, and then turned away.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That face—ah, where have I beheld it?” muttered Mr. Harwood to the
- doctor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dam puppy!” said the doctor.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the plate and fruit were laid before Mr. Glaston, who said quickly,
- “Take them away.” The bewildered waiter looked towards his chief and
- obeyed, so that Mr. Glaston remained with an empty plate. Robinson became
- uneasy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can I get you anything, sir?—we have three peaches aboard and a
- pine-apple,” he murmured.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can't touch anything now, Robinson,” Mr. Glaston answered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The doctor is right,” said Mrs. Crawford. “You have no appetite, Mr.
- Glaston.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” he replied; “not <i>now</i>,” and he gave the least glance towards
- the girl in pink, who began to feel that all her school dreams of going
- forth into the world of men to conquer and overcome were being realised
- beyond her wildest anticipations.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then there was a pause at the table, which the good major broke by
- suddenly inquiring something of the captain. Mr. Glaston, however, sat
- silent, and somewhat sad apparently, until the breakfast was over.
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen went into her cabin for a book, and remained arranging some
- volumes on the little shelf for a few minutes. Mr. Glaston was on deck
- when she ascended, and he was engaged in a very serious conversation with
- Mrs. Crawford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Something must be done. Surely she has a guardian aboard who is not so
- utterly lost to everything of truth and right as to allow that to go on
- unchecked.”
- </p>
- <p>
- These words Daireen could make out as she passed the young man and the
- major's wife, and the girl began to fear that something terrible was about
- to happen. But Mr. Harwood, who was standing above the major's chair,
- hastened forward as she appeared.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, Major Crawford has been telling me that your father is Colonel
- Gerald,” he said. “Mrs. Crawford never mentioned that fact, thinking that
- I should be able to guess it for myself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you know papa?” Daireen asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I met him several times when I was out about the Baroda affair,” said the
- “special.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And as you are his daughter, I suppose it will interest you to know that
- he has been selected as the first governor of the Castaways.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen looked puzzled. “The Castaways?” she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Miss Gerald; the lovely Castaway Islands which, you know, have just
- been annexed by England. Colonel Gerald has been chosen by the Colonial
- Secretary as the first governor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I heard nothing of this,” said Daireen, a little astonished to
- receive such information in the Bay of Biscay.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How could you hear anything of it? No one outside the Cabinet has the
- least idea of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you——” said the girl doubtfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, my dear Miss Gerald, the resources of information possessed by the <i>Dominant
- Trumpeter</i> are as unlimited as they are trustworthy. You may depend
- upon what I tell you. It is not generally known that I am now bound for
- the Castaway group, to make the British public aware of the extent of the
- treasure they have acquired in these sunny isles. But I understood that
- Colonel Gerald was on his way from Madras?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen explained how her father came to be at the Cape, and Mr. Harwood
- gave her a few cheering words regarding his sickness. She was greatly
- disappointed when their conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Crawford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The poor fellow!” she said—“Mr. Glaston, I mean. I have induced him
- to go down and eat some grapes and a pear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why couldn't he take them at breakfast and not betray his idiocy?” said
- Mr. Harwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Harwood, you have no sympathy for sufferers from sensitiveness,”
- replied the lady. “Poor Mr. Glaston! he had an excellent appetite, but he
- found it impossible to touch anything the instant he saw that fearful pink
- dress with the blue ribbon hanging over it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor fellow!” said Mr. Harwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dam puppy!” said the doctor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Campion!” cried Mrs. Crawford severely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A thousand pardons! my dear Miss Gerald,” said the transgressor. “But
- what can a man say when he hears of such puppyism? This is my third voyage
- with that young man, and he has been developing into the full-grown puppy
- with the greatest rapidity.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have no fine feeling, Campion,” said Mrs. Crawford. “You have got no
- sympathy for those who are artistically sensitive. But hush! here is the
- offending person herself, and with such a hat! Now admit that to look at
- her sends a cold shudder through you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think her a devilish pretty little thing, by gad,” said the doctor.
- </p>
- <p>
- The young lady with the pink dress and the blue ribbon appeared, wearing
- the additional horror of a hat lined with yellow and encircled with mighty
- flowers.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Something must be done to suppress her,” said Mrs. Crawford decisively.
- “Surely such people must have a better side to their natures that one may
- appeal to.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I doubt it, Mrs. Crawford,” said Mr. Harwood, with only the least tinge
- of sarcasm in his voice. “I admit that one might not have been in utter
- despair though the dress was rather aggressive, but I cannot see anything
- but depravity in that hat with those floral splendours.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But what is to be done?” said the lady. “Mr. Glaston would, no doubt,
- advocate making a Jonah of that young person for the sake of saving the
- rest of the ship's company. But, however just that might be, I do not
- suppose it would be considered strictly legal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Many acts of justice are done that are not legal,” replied Harwood
- gravely. “From a legal standpoint, Cain was no murderer—his accuser
- being witness and also judge. He would leave the court without a stain on
- his character nowadays. Meantime, major, suppose we have a smoke on the
- bridge.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He fancies he has said something clever,” remarked Mrs. Crawford when he
- had walked away; and it must be confessed that Mr. Harwood had a suspicion
- to that effect.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER X.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent20">
- His will is not his own;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- For he himself is subject to his birth:
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- He may not, as unvalued persons do,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Carve for himself; for on his choice depends
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The safety and the health of this whole state,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And therefore must his choice be circumscribed
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Unto the voice and yielding of that body,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Whereof he is the head.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Osric</i>.... Believe me, an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent
- differences, of very soft society and great showing; indeed, to speak
- feelingly of him, he is the card... of gentry.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Hamlet</i>.... His definement suffers no perdition in you... But, in
- the verity of extolment I take him to be a soul of great article.—<i>Hamlet.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE information
- which Daireen had received on the unimpeachable authority of the special
- correspondent of the <i>Dominant Trumpeter</i> was somewhat puzzling to
- her at first; but as she reflected upon the fact hat the position of
- governor of the newly-acquired Castaway group must be one of importance,
- she could not help feeling some happiness; only in the midmost heart of
- her joy her recollection clasped a single grief—-a doubt about her
- father was still clinging to her heart. The letter her grandfather had
- received which caused her to make up her mind to set out for the Cape,
- merely stated that Colonel Gerald had been found too weak to continue the
- homeward voyage in the vessel that had brought him from India. He had a
- bad attack of fever, and was not allowed to be moved from where he lay at
- the Cape. The girl thought over all of this as she reflected upon what Mr.
- Harwood had told her, and looking over the long restless waters of the Bay
- of Biscay from her seat far astern, her eyes became very misty; the
- unhappy author represented by the yellow-covered book which she had been
- reading lay neglected upon her knee. But soon her brave, hopeful heart
- took courage, and she began to paint in her imagination the fairest
- pictures of the future—a future beneath the rich blue sky that was
- alleged by the Ministers who had brought about the annexation, evermore to
- overshadow the Castaway group—a future beneath the purple shadow of
- the giant Slieve Docas when her father would have discharged his duties at
- the Castaways.
- </p>
- <p>
- She could not even pretend to herself to be reading the book she had
- brought up, so that Mrs. Crawford could not have been accused of an
- interruption when she drew her chair alongside the girl's, saying:
- </p>
- <p>
- “We must have a little chat together, now that there is a chance for it.
- It is really terrible how much time one can fritter away aboard ship. I
- have known people take long voyages for the sake of study, and yet never
- open a single book but a novel. By the way, what is this the major has
- been telling me Harwood says about your father?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen repeated all that Harwood had said regarding the new island
- colony, and begged Mrs. Crawford to give an opinion as to the
- trustworthiness of the information.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear child,” said Mrs. Crawford, “you may depend upon its truth if
- Harwood told it to you. The <i>Dominant Trumpeter</i> sends out as many
- arms as an octopus, for news, and, like the octopus too, it has the
- instinct of only making use of what is worth anything. The Government have
- been very good to George—I mean Colonel Gerald—he was always
- 'George' with us when he was lieutenant. The Castaway governorship is one
- of the nice things they sometimes have to dispose of to the deserving. It
- was thought, you know, that George would sell out and get his brevet long
- ago, but what he often said to us after your poor mother died convinced me
- that he would not accept a quiet life. And so it was Mr. Harwood that gave
- you this welcome news,” she continued, adding in a thoughtful tone, “By
- the way, what do you think of Mr. Harwood?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I really have not thought anything about him,” Daireen replied, wondering
- if it was indeed a necessity of life aboard ship to be able at a moment's
- notice to give a summary of her opinion as to the nature of every person
- she might chance to meet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is a very nice man,” said Mrs. Crawford; “only just inclined to be
- conceited, don't you think? This is our third voyage with him, so that we
- know something of him. One knows more of a person at the end of a week at
- sea than after a month ashore. What can be keeping Mr. Glaston over his
- pears, I wonder? I meant to have presented him to you before. Ah, here he
- comes out of the companion. I asked him to return to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But again Mrs. Crawford's expectations were dashed to the ground. Mr.
- Glaston certainly did appear on deck, and showed some sign in a languid
- way of walking over to where Mrs. Crawford was sitting, but unfortunately
- before he had taken half a dozen steps he caught sight of that terrible
- pink dress and the hat with the jaundiced interior. He stopped short, and
- a look of martyrdom passed over his face as he turned and made his way to
- the bridge in the opposite direction to where that horror of pronounced
- tones sat quite unconscious of the agony her appearance was creating in
- the aesthetic soul of the young man.
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen having glanced up and seen the look of dismay upon his face, and
- the flight of Mr. Glaston, could not avoid laughing outright so soon as he
- had disappeared. But Mrs. Crawford did not laugh. On the contrary she
- looked very grave.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is terrible—terrible, Daireen,” she said. “That vile hat has
- driven him away. I knew it must.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Matters are getting serious indeed,” said the girl, with only the least
- touch of mockery in her voice. “If he is not allowed to eat anything at
- breakfast in sight of the dress, and he is driven up to the bridge by a
- glimpse of the hat, I am afraid that his life will not be quite happy
- here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Happy! my dear, you cannot conceive the agonies he endures through his
- sensitiveness. I must make the acquaintance of that young person and try
- to bring her to see the error of her ways. Oh, how fortunate you had this
- chocolate-gray!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must have thought of it in a moment of inspiration,” said Daireen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come, you really mustn't laugh,” said the elder lady reprovingly. “It was
- a happy thought, at any rate, and I only hope that you will be able to
- sustain its effect by something good at dinner. I must look over your
- trunks and tell you what tone is most artistic.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen began to feel rebellious.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear Mrs. Crawford, it is very kind of you to offer to take so much
- trouble; but, you see, I do not feel it to be a necessity to choose the
- shade of my dress solely to please the taste of a gentleman who may not be
- absolutely perfect in his ideas.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford laughed. “Do not get angry, my dear,” she said. “I admire
- your spirit, and I will not attempt to control your own good taste; you
- will never, I am sure, sink to such a depth of depravity as is manifested
- by that hat.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I think you may depend on me so far,” said Daireen.
- </p>
- <p>
- Shortly afterwards Mrs. Crawford descended to arrange some matters in her
- cabin, and Daireen had consequently an opportunity of returning to her
- neglected author.
- </p>
- <p>
- But before she had made much progress in her study she was again
- interrupted, and this time by Doctor Campion, who had been smoking with
- Mr. Harwood on the ship's bridge. Doctor Campion was a small man, with a
- reddish face upon which a perpetual frown was resting. He had a jerky way
- of turning his head as if it was set upon a ratchet wheel only capable of
- shifting a tooth at a time. He had been in the army for a good many years,
- and had only accepted the post aboard the <i>Cardwell Castle</i> for the
- sake of his health.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Young cub!” he muttered, as he came up to Daireen. “Infernal young cub!—I
- beg your pardon, Miss Gerald, but I really must say it. That fellow
- Glaston is getting out of all bounds. Ah, it's his father's fault—his
- father's fault. Keeps him dawdling about England without any employment.
- Why, it would have been better for him to have taken to the Church, as
- they call it, at once, idle though the business is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Surely you have not been wearing an inartistic tie, Doctor Campion?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Inartistic indeed! The puppy has got so much cant on his finger-ends that
- weak-minded people think him a genius. Don't you believe it, my dear; he's
- a dam puppy—excuse me, but there's really no drawing it mild here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen was amused at the doctor's vehemence, however shocked she may have
- been at his manner of getting rid of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What on earth has happened with Mr. Glaston now?” she asked. “It is
- impossible that there could be another obnoxious dress aboard.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He hasn't given himself any airs in that direction since,” said the
- doctor. “But he came up to the bridge where we were smoking, and after he
- had talked for a minute with Harwood, he started when he saw a boy who had
- been sent up to clean out one of the hencoops—asked if we didn't
- think his head marvellously like Carlyle's—was amazed at our want of
- judgment—went up to the boy and cross-questioned him—found out
- that his father sells vegetables to the Victoria Docks—asked if it
- had ever been remarked before that his head was like Carlyle's—boy
- says quickly that if the man he means is the tailor in Wapping, anybody
- that says his head is like that man's is a liar, and then boy goes quietly
- down. 'Wonderful!' says our genius, as he comes over to us; 'wonderful
- head—exactly the same as Carlyle's, and language marvellously
- similar—brief—earnest—emphatic—full of powah!'
- Then he goes on to say he'll take notes of the boy's peculiarities and
- send them to a magazine. I couldn't stand any more of that sort of thing,
- so I left him with Harwood. Harwood can sift him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen laughed at this new story of the young man whose movements seemed
- to be regarded as of so much importance by every one aboard the steamer.
- She began really to feel interested in this Mr. Glaston; and she thought
- that perhaps she might as well be particular about the tone of the dress
- she would select for appearing in before the judicial eyes of this Mr.
- Glaston. She relinquished the design she had formed in her mind while Mrs.
- Crawford was urging on her the necessity for discrimination in this
- respect: she had resolved to show a recklessness in her choice of a dress,
- but now she felt that she had better take Mrs. Crawford's advice, and give
- some care to the artistic combinations of her toilette.
- </p>
- <p>
- The result of her decision was that she appeared in such studious
- carelessness of attire that Mr. Glaston, sitting opposite to her, was
- enabled to eat a hearty dinner utterly regardless of the aggressive
- splendour of the imperial blue dress worn by the other young lady, with a
- pink ribbon flowing over it from her hair. This young lady's imagination
- was unequal to suggesting a more diversified arrangement than she had
- already shown. She thought it gave evidence of considerable strategical
- resources to wear that pink ribbon over the blue dress: it was very nearly
- as effective as the blue ribbon over the pink, of the morning. The
- appreciation of contrast as an important element of effect in art was very
- strongly developed in this young lady.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford did not conceal the satisfaction she felt observing the
- appetite of Mr. Glaston; and after dinner she took his arm as he went
- towards the bridge.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am so glad you were not offended with that dreadful young person's
- hideous colours,” she said, as they strolled along.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I could hardly have believed it possible that such wickedness could
- survive nowadays,” he replied. “But I was, after the first few minutes,
- quite unconscious of its enormity. My dear Mrs. Crawford, your young
- protégée appeared as a spirit of light to charm away that fiend of evil.
- She sat before me—a poem of tones—a delicate symphony of
- Schumann's played at twilight on the brink of a mere of long reeds and
- water-flags, with a single star shining through the well-defined twigs of
- a solitary alder. That was her idea, don't you think?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have no doubt of it,” the lady replied after a little pause. “But if
- you allow me to present you to her you will have an opportunity of finding
- out. Now do let me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not this evening, Mrs. Crawford; I do not feel equal to it,” he answered.
- “She has given me too much to think about—too many ideas to work
- out. That was the most thoughtful and pure-souled toilette I ever
- recollect; but there are a few points about it I do not fully grasp,
- though I have an instinct of their meaning. No, I want a quiet hour alone.
- But you will do me the favour to thank the child for me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wish you would come and do it yourself,” said the lady. “But I suppose
- there is no use attempting to force you. If you change your mind, remember
- that we shall be here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She left the young man preparing a cigarette, and joined Daireen and the
- major, who were sitting far astern: the girl with that fiction of a
- fiction still in her hand; her companion with a cheroot that was anything
- but insubstantial in his fingers.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear child,” whispered Mrs. Crawford, “I am so glad you took your own
- way and would not allow me to choose your dress for you. I could never
- have dreamt of anything so perfect and——yes, it is far beyond
- what I could have composed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford thought it better on the whole not to transfer to Daireen
- the expression of gratitude Mr. Glaston had begged to be conveyed to her.
- She had an uneasy consciousness that such a message coming to one who was
- as yet unacquainted with Mr. Glaston might give her the impression that he
- was inclined to have some of that unhappy conceit, with the possession of
- which Mrs. Crawford herself had accredited the race generally.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Miss Gerald is an angel in whatever dress she may wear,” said the major
- gallantly. “What is dress, after all?” he asked. “By gad, my dear, the
- finest women I ever recollect seeing were in Burmah, and all the dress
- they wore was the merest——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Major, you forget yourself,” cried his wife severely.
- </p>
- <p>
- The major pulled vigorously at the end of his moustache, grinning and
- bobbing his head towards the doctor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By gad, my dear, the recollection of those beauties would make any fellow
- forget not only himself but his own wife, even if she was as fine a woman
- as yourself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The doctor's face relapsed into its accustomed frown after he had given a
- responsive grin and a baritone chuckle to the delicate pleasantry of his
- old comrade.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XI.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent20">
- Look, with what courteous action
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- It waves you to a more removed ground:
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- But do not go with it.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The very place puts toys of desperation,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Without more motive, into every brain.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Horatio.</i> What are they that would speak with me?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Servant</i>. Sea-faring men, sir.—<i>Hamlet</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HO does not know
- the delightful monotony of a voyage southward, broken only at the
- intervals of anchoring beneath the brilliant green slopes of Madeira or
- under the grim shadow of the cliffs of St. Helena?
- </p>
- <p>
- The first week of the voyage for those who are not sensitive of the uneasy
- motion of the ship through the waves of the Bay of Biscay is perhaps the
- most delightful, for then every one is courteous with every one else. The
- passengers have not become friendly enough to be able to quarrel
- satisfactorily. The young ladies have got a great deal of white about
- them, and they have not begun to show that jealousy of each other which
- the next fortnight so powerfully develops. The men, too, are prodigal in
- their distribution of cigars; and one feels in one's own heart nothing but
- the most generous emotions, as one sits filling a meerschaum with Latakia
- in the delicate twilight of time and of thought that succeeds the curried
- lobster and pilau chickens as prepared in the galley of such ships as the
- <i>Cardwell Castle</i>. Certainly for a week of Sabbaths a September
- voyage to Madeira must be looked to.
- </p>
- <p>
- Things had begun to arrange themselves aboard the <i>Cardwell Castle</i>.
- The whist sets and the deck sets had been formed. The far-stretching arm
- of society had at least one finger in the construction of the laws of life
- in this Atlantic ship-town.
- </p>
- <p>
- The young woman with the pronounced tastes in colour and the large
- resources of imagination in the arrangement of blue and pink had become
- less aggressive, as she was compelled to fall back upon the minor glories
- of her trunk, so that there was no likelihood of Mr. Glaston's perishing
- of starvation. Though very fond of taking-up young ladies, Mrs. Crawford
- had no great struggle with her propensity so far as this young lady was
- concerned. But as Mr. Glaston had towards the evening of the third day of
- the voyage found himself in a fit state of mind to be presented to Miss
- Gerald, Mrs. Crawford had nothing to complain of. She knew that the young
- man was invariably fascinating to all of her sex, and she could see no
- reason why Miss Gerald should not have at least the monotony of the voyage
- relieved for her through the improving nature of his conversation. To be
- sure, Mr. Harwood also possessed in his conversation many elements of
- improvement, but then they were of a more commonplace type in Mrs.
- Crawford's eyes, and she thought it as well, now and again when he was
- sitting beside Daireen, to make a third to their party and assist in the
- solution of any question they might be discussing. She rather wished that
- it had not been in Mr. Harwood's power to give Daireen that information
- about her father's appointment; it was a sort of link of friendship
- between him and the girl; but Mrs. Crawford recollected her own
- responsibility with regard to Daireen too well to allow such a frail link
- to become a bond to bind with any degree of force.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was just making a mental resolution to this effect upon the day
- preceding their expected arrival at Madeira, when Mr. Harwood, who had
- before tiffin been showing the girl how to adjust a binocular glass,
- strolled up to where the major's wife sat resolving many things,
- reflecting upon her victories in quarter-deck campaigns of the past and
- laying out her tactics for the future.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is our third voyage together, is it not, Mrs. Crawford?” he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me see,” said the lady. “Yes, it is our third. Dear, dear, how time
- runs past us!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wish it did run past us; unfortunately it seems to remain to work some
- of its vengeance upon each of us. But do you think we ever had a more
- charming voyage so far as this has run, Mrs. Crawford?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lady became thoughtful. “That was a very nice trip in the P. &
- O.'s <i>Turcoman</i>, when Mr. Carpingham of the Gunners proposed to Clara
- Walton before he landed at Aden,” she said. “Curiously enough, I was
- thinking about that very voyage just before you came up now. General
- Walton had placed Clara in my care, and it was I who presented her to
- young Carpingham.” There was a slight tone of triumph in her voice as she
- recalled this victory of the past.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I remember well,” said Mr. Harwood. “How pleased every one was, and also
- how—well, the weather was extremely warm in the Red Sea just before
- he proposed. But I certainly think that this voyage is likely to be quite
- as pleasant. By the way, what a charming protégée you have got this time,
- Mrs. Crawford.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is a dear girl indeed, and I hope that she may find her father all
- right at the Cape. Think of what she must suffer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Harwood glanced round and saw that Mr. Glaston had strolled up to
- Daireen's chair. “Yes, I have no doubt that she suffers,” he said. “But
- she is so gentle, so natural in her thoughts and in her manner, I should
- indeed be sorry that any trouble would come to her.” He was himself
- speaking gently now—so gently, in fact, that Mrs. Crawford drew her
- lips together with a slight pressure. “Perhaps it is because I am so much
- older than she that she talks to me naturally as she would to her father.
- I am old enough to be her father, I suppose,” he added almost mournfully.
- But this only made the lady's lips become more compressed. She had heard
- men talk before now of being old enough to be young ladies' fathers, and
- she could also recollect instances of men who were actually old enough to
- be young ladies' grandfathers marrying those very young ladies.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Mrs. Crawford, “Daireen is a dear natural little thing.” Into
- the paternal potentialities of Mr. Harwood's position towards this dear
- natural little thing Mrs. Crawford did not think it judicious to go just
- then.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is a dear child,” he repeated. “By the way, we shall be at Funchal at
- noon to-morrow, and we do not leave until the evening. You will land, I
- suppose?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't think I shall, I know every spot so well, and those bullock
- sleighs are so tiresome. I am not so young as I was when I first made
- their acquaintance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, really, if that is your only plea, my dear Mrs. Crawford, we may
- count on your being in our party.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Our party!” said the lady.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should not say that until I get your consent,” said Harwood quickly.
- “Miss Gerald has never been at the island, you see, and she is girlishly
- eager to go ashore. Miss Butler and her mother are also landing”—these
- were other passengers—“and in a weak moment I volunteered my
- services as guide. Don't you think you can trust me so far as to agree to
- be one of us?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course I can,” she said. “If Daireen wishes to go ashore you may
- depend upon my keeping her company. But you will have to provide a sleigh
- for myself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may depend upon the sleigh, Mrs. Crawford; and many thanks for your
- trusting to my guidance. Though I sleigh you yet you will trust me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Harwood, that is dreadful. I am afraid that Mrs. Butler will need one
- of them also.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The entire sleigh service shall be impressed if necessary,” said the
- “special,” as he walked away.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford felt that she had not done anything rash. Daireen would, no
- doubt, be delighted with the day among the lovely heights of Madeira, and
- if by some little thoughtfulness it would be possible to hit upon a plan
- that should give over the guidance of some of the walking members of the
- party to Mr. Glaston, surely the matter was worth pursuing.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Glaston was just at this instant looking into, Daireen's face as he
- talked to her. He invariably kept his eyes fixed upon the faces of the
- young women to whom he was fond of talking. It did not argue any
- earnestness on his part, Mrs. Crawford knew. He seemed now, however, to be
- a little in earnest in what he was saying. But then Mrs. Crawford
- reflected that the subjects upon which his discourse was most impassioned
- were mostly those that other people would call trivial, such as the effect
- produced upon the mind of man by seeing a grape-green ribbon lying upon a
- pale amber cushion. “Every colour has got its soul,” she once heard him
- say; “and though any one can appreciate its meaning and the work it has to
- perform in the world, the subtle thoughts breathed by the tones are too
- delicate to be understood except by a few. Colour is language of the
- subtlest nature, and one can praise God through that medium just as one
- can blaspheme through it.” He had said this very earnestly at one time,
- she recollected, and as she now saw Daireen laugh she thought it was not
- impossible that it might be at some phrase of the same nature, the meaning
- of which her uncultured ear did not at once catch, that Daireen had
- laughed. Daireen, at any rate, did laugh in spite of his earnestness of
- visage.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a few moments Mr. Glaston came over to Mrs. Crawford, and now his face
- wore an expression of sadness rather than of any other emotion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear Mrs. Crawford, you surely cannot intend to give your consent to
- that child's going ashore tomorrow. She tells me that that newspaper
- fellow has drawn her into a promise to land with a party—actually a
- party—and go round the place like a Cook's excursion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I hope we shall not be like that, Mr. Glaston,” said Mrs. Crawford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you have not given your consent?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If Daireen would enjoy it I do not see how I could avoid. Mr. Harwood was
- talking to me just now. He seems to think she will enjoy herself, as she
- has never seen the island before. Will you not be one of our party?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Mrs. Crawford, if you have got the least regard for me, do not say
- that word party; it means everything that is popular; it suggests
- unutterable horrors to me. No subsequent pleasure could balance the agony
- I should endure going ashore. Will you not try and induce that child to
- give up the idea? Tell her what dreadful taste it would be to join a party—that
- it would most certainly destroy her perceptions of beauty for months to
- come.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am very sorry I promised Mr. Harwood,” said the lady; “if going ashore
- would do all of this it would certainly be better for Daireen to remain
- aboard. But they will be taking in coals here,” she added, as the sudden
- thought struck her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She can shut herself in her cabin and neither see nor hear anything
- offensive. Who but a newspaper man would think of suggesting to cultured
- people the possibility of enjoyment in a party?”
- </p>
- <p>
- But the newspaper man had strolled up to the place beside Daireen, which
- the aesthetic man had vacated. He knew something of the art of strategical
- defence, this newspaper man, and he was well aware that as he had got the
- promise of the major's wife, all the arguments that might be advanced by
- any one else would not cause him to be defrauded of the happiness of being
- by this girl's side in one of the loveliest spots of the world.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will find out what Daireen thinks,” said Mrs. Crawford, in reply to Mr.
- Glaston; and just then she turned and saw the newspaper man beside the
- girl.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never mind him,” said Mr. Glaston; “tell the poor child that it is
- impossible for her to go.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I really cannot break my promise,” replied the lady. “We must be
- resigned, it will only be for a few hours.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is the saddest thing I ever knew,” said Mr. Glaston. “She will lose
- all the ideas she was getting—all through being of a party. Good
- heavens, a party!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford could see that Mr. Glaston was annoyed at the presence of
- Harwood by the side of the girl, and she smiled, for she was too old a
- tactician not to be well aware of the value of a skeleton enemy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How kind of you to say you would not mind my going ashore,” said Daireen,
- walking up to her. “We shall enjoy ourselves I am sure, and Mr. Harwood
- knows every spot to take us to. I was afraid that Mr. Glaston might be
- talking to you as he was to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, he spoke to me, but of course, my dear, if you think you would like
- to go ashore I shall not say anything but that I will be happy to take
- care of you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are all that is good,” said Mr. Harwood. This was very pretty, the
- lady thought—very pretty indeed; but at the same time she was making
- up her mind that if the gentleman before her had conceived it probable
- that he should be left to exhibit any of the wonders of the island scenery
- to the girl, separate from the companionship of the girl's temporary
- guardian, he would certainly find out that he had reckoned without due
- regard to other contingencies.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sadness was the only expression visible upon the face of Mr. Glaston for
- the remainder of this day; but upon the following morning this aspect had
- changed to one of contempt as he heard nearly all the cabin's company
- talking with expectancy of the joys of a few hours ashore. It was a great
- disappointment to him to observe the brightening of the face of Daireen
- Gerald, as Mr. Harwood came to tell her that the land was in sight.
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen's face, however, did brighten. She went up to the ship's bridge,
- and Mr. Harwood, laying one hand upon her shoulder, pointed out with the
- other where upon the horizon lay a long, low, gray cloud. Mrs. Crawford
- observing his action, and being well aware that the girl's range of vision
- was not increased in the smallest degree by the touch of his fingers upon
- her shoulder, made a resolution that she herself would be the first to
- show Daireen the earliest view of St. Helena when they should be
- approaching that island.
- </p>
- <p>
- But there lay that group of cloud, and onward the good steamer sped. In
- the course of an hour the formless mass had assumed a well-defined outline
- against the soft blue sky. Then a lovely white bird came about the ship
- from the distance like a spirit from those Fortunate Islands. In a short
- time a gleam of sunshine was seen reflected from the flat surface of a
- cliff, and then the dark chasms upon the face of each of the island-rocks
- of the Dezertas could be seen. But when these were passed the long island
- of Madeira appeared gray and massive, and with a white cloud clinging
- about its highest ridges. Onward still, and the thin white thread of foam
- encircling the rocks was perceived. Then the outline of the cliffs stood
- defined against the fainter background of the island; but still all was
- gray and colourless. Not for long, however, for the sunlight smote the
- clouds and broke their gray masses, and then fell around the ridges,
- showing the green heights of vines and slopes of sugar-canes. But it was
- not until the roll of the waves against the cliff-faces was heard that the
- cloud-veil was lifted and all the glad green beauty of the slope flashed
- up to the blue sky, and thrilled all those who stood on the deck of the
- vessel.
- </p>
- <p>
- Along this lovely coast the vessel moved through the sparkling green
- ripples. Not the faintest white fleck of cloud was now in the sky, and the
- sunlight falling downwards upon the island, brought out every brown rock
- of the coast in bold relief against the brilliant green of the slope. So
- close to the shore the vessel passed, the nearer cliffs appeared to glide
- away as the land in their shade was disclosed, and this effect of soft
- motion was entrancing to all who experienced it. Then the low headland
- with the island-rock crowned with a small pillared building was reached
- and passed, and the lovely bay of Funchal came in view.
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen, who had lived among the sombre magnificence of the Irish scenery,
- felt this soft dazzling green as something marvellously strange and
- unexpected. Had not Mr. Glaston descended to his cabin at the earliest
- expression of delight that was forced from the lips of some young lady on
- the deck, he, would have been still more disappointed with Daireen, for
- her face was shining with happiness. But Mr. Harwood found more pleasure
- in watching her face than he did in gazing at the long crescent slope of
- the bay, and at the white houses that peeped from amongst the vines, or at
- the high convent of the hill. He did not speak a word to the girl, but
- only watched her as she drank in everything of beauty that passed before
- her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the Loo rock at the farther point of the bay was neared, and as the
- engine slowed, the head of the steamer was brought round towards the white
- town of Funchal, spread all about the beach where the huge rollers were
- breaking. The tinkle of the engine-room telegraph brought a wonderful
- silence over everything as the propeller ceased. The voice of the captain
- giving orders about the lead line was heard distinctly, and the passengers
- felt inclined to speak in whispers. Suddenly with a harsh roar the great
- chain cable rushes out and the anchor drops into the water.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is the first stage of our voyage,” said Mr. Harwood. “Now, while I
- select a boat, will you kindly get ready for landing? Oh, Mrs. Crawford,
- you will be with us at once, I suppose?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Without the loss of a moment,” said the lady, going down to the cabins
- with Daireen.
- </p>
- <p>
- The various island authorities pushed off from the shore in their boats,
- sitting under canvas awnings and looking unpleasantly like banditti.
- Doctor Campion answered their kind inquiries regarding the health of the
- passengers, for nothing could exceed the attentive courtesy shown by the
- government in this respect.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then a young Scotchman, who had resolved to emulate Mr. Harwood's example
- in taking a party ashore, began making a bargain by signs with one of the
- boatmen, while his friends stood around. The major and the doctor having
- plotted together to go up to pay a visit to an hotel, pushed off in a
- government boat without acquainting any one with their movements. But long
- before the Scotchman had succeeded in reducing the prohibitory sum named
- by the man with whom he was treating for the transit of the party ashore,
- Mr. Harwood had a boat waiting at the rail for his friends, and Mrs.
- Butler and her daughter were in act to descend, chatting with the
- “special” who was to be their guide. Another party had already left for
- the shore, the young lady who had worn the blue and pink appearing in a
- bonnet surrounded with resplendent flowers and beads. But before the
- smiles of Mrs. Butler and Harwood had passed away, Mrs. Crawford and
- Daireen had come on deck again, the former with many apologies for her
- delay.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Harwood ran down the sloping rail to assist the ladies into the boat
- that rose and fell with every throb of the waves against the ship's side.
- Mrs. Crawford followed him and was safely stowed in a place in the stern.
- Then came Mrs. Butler and her daughter, and while Mr. Harwood was handing
- them off the last step Daireen began to descend. But she had not got
- farther down than to where a young sailor was kneeling to shift the line
- of one of the fruit boats, when she stopped suddenly with a great start
- that almost forced a cry from her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “For God's sake go on—give no sign if you don't wish to make me
- wretched,” said the sailor in a whisper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come, Miss Gerald, we are waiting,” cried Harwood up the long rail.
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen remained irresolute for a moment, then walked slowly down, and
- allowed herself to be handed into the boat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Surely you are not timid, Miss Gerald,” said Harwood as the boat pushed
- off.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Timid?” said Daireen mechanically.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, your hand was really trembling as I helped you down.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, I am not—not timid, only—I fear I shall not be very
- good company to-day; I feel——” she looked back to the steamer
- and did not finish her sentence.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Harwood glanced at her for a moment, thinking if it really could be
- possible that she was regretting the absence of Mr. Glaston. Mrs. Crawford
- also looked at her and came to the conclusion that, at the last moment,
- the girl was recalling the aesthetic instructions of the young man who was
- doubtless sitting lonely in his cabin while she was bent on enjoying
- herself with a “party.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Daireen was only thinking how it was she had refrained from crying out
- when she saw the face of that sailor on the rail, and when she heard his
- voice; and it must be confessed that it was rather singular, taking into
- account the fact that she had recognised in the features and voice of that
- sailor the features and voice of Standish Macnamara.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XII.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- Your visitation shall receive such thanks
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- As fits... remembrance.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- ... Thus do we of wisdom and of reach,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- With windlasses and with assays of bias,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- By indirections find directions out.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- More matter with less art.—<i>Hamlet.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE thin white silk
- thread of a moon was hanging in the blue twilight over the darkened
- western slope of the island, and almost within the horns of its crescent a
- planet was burning without the least tremulous motion. The lights of the
- town were glimmering over the waters, and the strange, wildly musical
- cries of the bullock-drivers were borne faintly out to the steamer,
- mingling with the sound of the bell of St. Mary's on the Mount.
- </p>
- <p>
- The vessel had just begun to move away from its anchorage, and Daireen
- Gerald was standing on the deck far astern leaning over the bulwarks
- looking back upon the island slope whose bright green had changed to
- twilight purple. Not of the enjoyment of the day she had spent up among
- the vines was the girl thinking; her memory fled back to the past days
- spent beneath the shadow of a slope that was always purple, with a robe of
- heather clinging to it from base to summit.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope you don't regret having taken my advice about going on shore, Miss
- Gerald,” said Mr. Harwood, who had come beside her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no,” she said; “it was all so lovely—so unlike what I ever saw
- or imagined.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It has always seemed lovely to me,” he said, “but to-day it was very
- lovely. I had got some pleasant recollections of the island before, but
- now the memories I shall retain will be the happiest of my life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Was to-day really so much pleasanter?” asked the girl quickly. “Then I am
- indeed fortunate in my first visit. But you were not at any part of the
- island that you had not seen before,” she added, after a moment's pause.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” he said quietly. “But I saw all to-day under a new aspect.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You had not visited it in September? Ah, I recollect now having heard
- that this was the best month for Madeira. You see I am fortunate.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, you are—fortunate,” he said slowly. “You are fortunate; you
- are a child; I am—a man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen was quite puzzled by his tone; it was one of sadness, and she knew
- that he was not accustomed to be sad. He had not been so at any time
- through the day when they were up among the vineyards looking down upon
- the tiny ships in the harbour beneath them, or wandering through the
- gardens surrounding the villa at which they had lunched after being
- presented by their guide—no, he had certainly not displayed any sign
- of sadness then. But here he was now beside her watching the lights of the
- shore twinkling into dimness, and speaking in this way that puzzled her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't know why, if you say you will have only pleasant recollections of
- to-day, you should speak in a tone like that,” she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, you would not understand it,” he replied. If she had kept silence
- after he had spoken his previous sentence, he would have been tempted to
- say to her what he had on his heart, but her question made him hold back
- his words, for it proved to him what he told her—she would not
- understand him.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is probable, however, that Mrs. Crawford, who by the merest accident,
- of course, chanced to come from the cabin at this moment, would have
- understood even the most enigmatical utterance that might pass from his
- lips on the subject of his future memories of the day they had spent on
- the island; she felt quite equal to the solution of any question of
- psychological analysis that might arise. But she contented herself now by
- calling Daireen's attention to the flashing of the phosphorescent water at
- the base of the cliffs round which the vessel was moving, and the
- observance of this phenomenon drew the girl's thoughts away from the
- possibility of discovering the meaning of the man's words. The major and
- his old comrade Doctor Campion then came near and expressed the greatest
- anxiety to learn how their friends had passed the day. Both major and
- doctor were in the happiest of moods. They had visited the hotel they
- agreed in stating, and no one on the deck undertook to prove anything to
- the contrary—no one, in fact, seemed to doubt in the least the truth
- of what they said.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a short time Mrs. Crawford and Daireen were left alone; not for long,
- however, for Mr. Glaston strolled languidly up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I cannot say I hope you enjoyed yourself,” he said. “I know very well you
- did not. I hope you could not.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen laughed. “Your hopes are misplaced, I fear, Mr. Glaston,” she
- answered. “We had a very happy day—had we not, Mrs. Crawford?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am afraid we had, dear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, Mr. Harwood said distinctly to me just now,” continued Daireen,
- “that it was the pleasantest day he had ever passed upon the island.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, he said so? well, you see, he is a newspaper man, and they all look
- at things from a popular standpoint; whatever is popular is right, is
- their motto; while ours is, whatever is popular is wrong.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He felt himself speaking as the representative of a class, no doubt, when
- he made use of the plural.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; Mr. Harwood seemed even more pleased than we were,” continued the
- girl. “He told me that the recollection of our exploration to-day would be
- the—the—yes, the happiest of his life. He did indeed,” she
- added almost triumphantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did he?” said Mr. Glaston slowly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear child,” cried Mrs. Crawford, quickly interposing, “he has got
- that way of talking. He has, no doubt, said those very words to every
- person he took ashore on his previous visits. He has, I know, said them
- every evening for a fortnight in the Mediterranean.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you don't think he means anything beyond a stupid compliment to us?
- What a wretched thing it is to be a girl, after all. Never mind, I enjoyed
- myself beyond any doubt.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is impossible—quite impossible, child,” said the young man.
- “Enjoyment with a refined organisation such as yours can never be anything
- that is not reflective—it is something that cannot be shared with a
- number of persons. It is quite impossible that you could have any feeling
- in common with such a mind as this Mr. Harwood's or with the other people
- who went ashore. I heard nothing but expressions of enjoyment, and I felt
- really sad to think that there was not a refined soul among them all. They
- enjoyed themselves, therefore you did not.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think I can understand you,” said Mrs. Crawford at once, for she feared
- that Daireen might attempt to question the point he insisted on. Of course
- when the superior intellect of Mr. Glaston demonstrated that they could
- not have enjoyed themselves, it was evident that it was their own
- sensations which were deceiving them. Mrs. Crawford trusted to the
- decision of the young man's intellect more implicitly than she did her own
- senses: just as Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton Heath, came to
- believe the practical jesters.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Should you enjoy the society and scenery of a desert island better than
- an inhabited one?” asked the girl, somewhat rebellious at the concessions
- of Mrs. Crawford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Undoubtedly, if everything was in good taste,” he answered quietly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is, if everything was in accordance with your own taste,” came the
- voice of Mr. Harwood, who, unseen, had rejoined the party.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Glaston made no reply. He had previously become aware of the
- unsatisfactory results of making any answers to such men as wrote for
- newspapers. As he had always considered such men outside the world of art
- in which he lived and to the inhabitants of which he addressed himself, it
- was hardly to be expected that he would put himself on a level of argument
- with them. In fact, Mr. Glaston rarely consented to hold an argument with
- any one. If people maintained opinions different from his own, it was so
- much the worse for those people—that was all he felt. It was to a
- certain circle of young women in good society that he preferred addressing
- himself, for he knew that to each individual in that circle he appeared as
- the prophet and high priest of art. His tone-poems in the college
- magazine, his impromptus—musical <i>aquarellen</i> he called them—performed
- in secret and out of hearing of any earthly audience, his
- colour-harmonies, his statuesque idealisms—all these were his
- priestly ministrations; while the interpretation, not of his own works—this
- he never attempted—but of the works of three poets belonging to what
- he called his school, of one painter, and of one musical composer, was his
- prophetical service.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was obviously impossible that such a man could put himself on that
- mental level which would be implied by his action should he consent to
- make any answer to a person like Mr. Harwood. But apart from these general
- grounds, Mr. Glaston had got concrete reasons for declining to discuss any
- subject with this newspaper man. He knew that it was Mr. Harwood who had
- called the tone-poems of the college magazine alliterative conundrums for
- young ladies; that it was Mr. Harwood who had termed one of the
- colour-harmonies a study in virulent jaundice; that it was Mr. Harwood who
- had, after smiling on being told of the <i>aquarellen</i> impromptus,
- expressed a desire to hear one of these compositions—all this Mr.
- Glaston knew well, and so when Mr. Harwood made that remark about taste
- Mr. Glaston did not reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen, however, did not feel the silence oppressive. She kept her eyes
- fixed upon that thin thread of moon that was now almost touching the dark
- ridge of the island.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harwood looked at her for a few moments, and then he too leaned over the
- side of the ship and gazed at that lovely moon and its burning star.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How curious,” he said gently—“how very curious, is it not, that the
- sight of that hill and that moon should bring back to me memories of Lough
- Suangorm and Slieve Docas?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The girl gave a start. “You are thinking of them too? I am so glad. It
- makes me so happy to know that I am not the only one here who knows all
- about Suangorm.” Suddenly another thought seemed to come to her. She
- turned her eyes away from the island and glanced down the deck anxiously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said Mr. Harwood very gently indeed; “you are not alone in your
- memories of the loveliest spot of the world.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford thought it well to interpose. “My dear Daireen, you must be
- careful not to take a chill now after all the unusual exercise you have
- had during the day. Don't you think you had better go below?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I had much better,” said the girl quickly and in a startled tone;
- and she had actually gone to the door of the companion before she
- recollected that she had not said good-night either to Glaston or Harwood.
- She turned back and redeemed her negligence, and then went down with her
- good guardian.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor child,” thought Mr. Glaston, “she fears that I am hurt by her
- disregard of my advice about going ashore with those people. Poor child!
- perhaps I was hard upon her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor little thing,” thought Mr. Harwood. “She begins to understand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It would never do to let that sort or thing go on,” thought Mrs.
- Crawford, as she saw that Daireen got a cup of tea before retiring. Mrs.
- Crawford fully appreciated Mr. Harwood's cleverness in reading the girl's
- thought and so quickly adapting his speech to the requirements of the
- moment; but she felt her own superiority of cleverness.
- </p>
- <p>
- Each of the three was a careful and experienced observer, but there are
- certain conditional influences to be taken into account in arriving at a
- correct conclusion as to the motives of speech or action of every human
- subject under observation; and the reason that these careful analysts of
- motives were so utterly astray in tracing to its source the remissness of
- Miss Gerald, was probably because none of the three was aware of the
- existence of an important factor necessary for the solution of the
- interesting problem they had worked out so airily; this factor being the
- sudden appearance of Standish Macnamara beside the girl in the morning,
- and her consequent reflections upon the circumstance in the evening.
- </p>
- <p>
- But as she sat alone in her cabin, seeing through the port the effect of
- the silver moonlight upon the ridge of the hill behind which the moon
- itself had now sunk, she was wondering, as she had often wondered during
- the day, if indeed it was Standish whom she had seen and whose voice she
- had heard. All had been so sudden—so impossible, she thought, that
- the sight of him and the hearing of his voice seemed to her but as the
- memories of a dream of her home.
- </p>
- <p>
- But now that she was alone and capable of reflecting upon the matter, she
- felt that she had not been deceived. By some means the young man to whom
- she had written her last letter in Ireland was aboard the steamer. It was
- very wonderful to the girl to reflect upon this; but then she thought if
- he was aboard, why should she not be able to find him and ask him all
- about himself?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIII.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent30">
- Providence
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Should have kept short, restrained, and out of haunt
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- This mad young man...
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- His very madness, like some ore
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Among a mineral of metals base,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Shows itself pure.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- To what I shall unfold.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- It is common for the younger sort
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- To lack discretion.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- <i>Queen</i>.... Whereon do you look?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- <i>Hamlet</i>. On him, on him! look you, how pale he glares.
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- ... It is not madness
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- That I have uttered: bring me to the test.—<i>Hamlet</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE question which
- suggested itself to Daireen as to the possibility of seeing Standish
- aboard the steamer, was not the only one that occupied her thoughts. How
- had he come aboard, and why had he come aboard, were further questions
- whose solution puzzled her. She recollected how he had told her on that
- last day she had seen him, while they walked in the garden after leaving
- The Macnamara in that side room with the excellent specimen of ancient
- furniture ranged with glass vessels, that he was heartily tired of living
- among the ruins of the castle, and that he had made up his mind to go out
- into the world of work. She had then begged of him to take no action of so
- much importance until her father should have returned to give him the
- advice he needed; and in that brief postscript which she had added to the
- farewell letter given into the care of the bard O'Brian, she had expressed
- her regret that this counsel of hers had been rendered impracticable. Was
- it possible, however, that Standish placed so much confidence in the
- likelihood of valuable advice being given to him by her father that he had
- resolved to go out to the Cape and speak with him on the subject face to
- face, she thought; but it struck her that there would be something like an
- inconsistency in the young man's travelling six thousand miles to take an
- opinion as to the propriety of his leaving his home.
- </p>
- <p>
- What was she to do? She felt that she must see Standish and have from his
- own lips an explanation of how he had come aboard the ship; but in that,
- sentence he had spoken to her he had entreated of her to keep silence, so
- that she dared not seek for him under the guidance of Mrs. Crawford or any
- of her friends aboard the vessel. It would be necessary for her to find
- him alone, and she knew that this would be a difficult thing to do,
- situated as she was. But let the worst come, she reflected that it could
- only result in the true position of Standish being-known. This was really
- all that the girl believed could possibly be the result if a secret
- interview between herself and a sailor aboard the steamer should be
- discovered; and, thinking of the worst consequences so lightly, made her
- all the more anxious to hasten on such an interview if she could contrive
- it.
- </p>
- <p>
- She seated herself upon her little sofa and tried to think by what means
- she could meet with Standish, and yet fulfil his entreaty for secrecy. Her
- imagination, so far as inventing plans was concerned, did not seem to be
- inexhaustible. After half an hour's pondering over the matter, no more
- subtle device was suggested to her than going on deck and walking alone
- towards the fore-part of the ship between the deck-house and the bulwarks,
- where it might possibly chance that Standish would be found. This was her
- plan, and she did not presume to think to herself that its intricacy was
- the chief element of its possible success. Had she been aware of the fact
- that Standish was at that instant standing in the shadow of that
- deck-house looking anxiously astern in the hope of catching a glimpse of
- her—had she known that since the steamer had left the English port
- he had every evening stood with the same object in the same place, she
- would have been more hopeful of her simple plan succeeding.
- </p>
- <p>
- At any rate she stole out of her cabin and went up the companion and out
- upon the deck, with all the caution that a novice in the art of
- dissembling could bring to her aid.
- </p>
- <p>
- The night was full of softness—softness of gray reflected light from
- the waters that were rippling along before the vessel—softness of
- air that seemed saturated with the balm of odorous trees growing upon the
- slopes of those Fortunate Islands. The deck was deserted by passengers;
- only Major Crawford, the doctor, and the special correspondent were
- sitting in a group in their cane chairs, smoking their cheroots and
- discussing some action of a certain colonel that had not yet been fully
- explained, though it had taken place fifteen years previously. The group
- could not see her, she knew; but even if they had espied her and demanded
- an explanation, she felt that she had progressed sufficiently far in the
- crooked ways of deception to be able to lull their suspicions by her
- answers. She could tell them that she had a headache, or put them off with
- some equally artful excuse.
- </p>
- <p>
- She walked gently along until she was at the rear of the deck-house where
- the stock of the mainmast was standing with all its gear. She looked down
- the dark tunnel passage between the side of the house and the bulwarks,
- but she felt her courage fail her: she dared do all that might become a
- woman, but the gloom of that covered place, and the consciousness that
- beyond it lay the mysterious fore-cabin space, caused her to pause. What
- was she to do?
- </p>
- <p>
- Suddenly there came the sound of a low voice at her ear.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Daireen, Daireen, why did you come here?” She started and looked around
- trembling, for it was the voice of Standish, though she could not see the
- form of the speaker. It was some moments before she found that he was
- under the broad rail leading to the ship's bridge.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then it is you, Standish, indeed?” she said. “How on earth did you come
- aboard?—Why have you come?—Are you really a sailor?—Where
- is your father?—Does he know?—Why don't you shake hands with
- me, Standish?”
- </p>
- <p>
- These few questions she put to him in a breath, looking between the steps
- of the rail.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Daireen, hush, for Heaven's sake!” he said anxiously. “You don't know
- what you are doing in coming to speak with me here—I am only a
- sailor, and if you were seen near me it would be terrible. Do go back to
- your cabin and leave me to my wretchedness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall not go back,” she said resolutely. “I am your friend, Standish,
- and why should I not speak to you for an hour if I wish? You are not the
- quartermaster at the wheel. What a start you gave me this morning! Why did
- you not tell me you were coming in this steamer?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did not leave Suangorm until the next morning after I heard you had
- gone,” he answered in a whisper. “I should have died—I should
- indeed, Daireen, if I had remained at home while you were gone away
- without any one to take care of you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Standish, Standish, what will your father say?—What will he
- think?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't care,” said Standish. “I told him on that day when we returned
- from Suanmara that I would go away. I was a fool that I did not make up my
- mind long ago. It was, indeed, only when you left that I carried out my
- resolution. I learned what ship you were going in; I had as much money as
- brought me to England—I had heard of people working their passage
- abroad; so I found out the captain of the steamer, and telling him all
- about myself that I could—not of course breathing your name, Daireen—I
- begged him to allow me to work my way as a sailor, and he agreed to give
- me the passage. He wanted me to become a waiter in the cabin, but I
- couldn't do that; I didn't mind facing all the hardships that might come,
- so long as I was near you—and—able to get your father's
- advice. Now do go back, Daireen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No one will see us,” said the girl, after a pause, in which she reflected
- on the story he had told her. “But all is so strange, Standish,” she
- continued—“all is so unlike anything I ever imagined possible. Oh,
- Standish, it is too dreadful to think of your being a sailor—just a
- sailor—aboard the ship.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There's nothing so very bad in it,” he replied. “I can work, thank God;
- and I mean to work. The thought of being near you—that is, near the
- time when I can get the advice I want from your father—makes all my
- labour seem light.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But if I ask the captain, he will, I am sure, let you become a
- passenger,” said the girl suddenly. “Do let me ask him, Standish. It is so—so
- hard for you to have to work as a sailor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is no harder than I expected it would be,” he said; “I am not afraid
- to work hard: and I feel that I am doing something—I feel it. I
- should be more wretched in the cabin. Now do not think of speaking to me
- for the rest of the voyage, Daireen; only, do not forget that you have a
- friend aboard the ship—a friend who will be willing to die for you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His voice was very tremulous, and she could see his tearful eyes
- glistening in the gray light as he put out one of his hands to her. She
- put her own hand into it and felt his strong earnest grasp as he
- whispered, “God bless you, Daireen! God bless you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Make it six bells, quartermaster,” came the voice of the officer on watch
- from the bridge. In fear and trembling Daireen waited until the man came
- aft and gave the six strokes upon the ship's bell that hung quite near
- where she was standing—Standish thinking it prudent to remain close
- in the shade of the rail. The quartermaster saw her, but did not, of
- course, conceive it to be within the range of his duties to give any
- thought to the circumstance of a passenger being on deck at that hour.
- When the girl turned round after the bell had been struck, she found that
- Standish had disappeared. All she could do was to hasten back to her cabin
- with as much caution as it was possible for her to preserve, for she could
- still hear the hoarse tones of the major's voice coming from the centre of
- the group far astern, who were regaled with a very pointed chronicle of a
- certain station in the empire of Hindustan.
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen reached her cabin and sat once more upon her sofa, breathing a
- sigh of relief, for she had never in her life had such a call upon her
- courage as this to which she had just responded.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her face was flushed and hot, and her hands were trembling, so she threw
- open the pane of the cabin port-hole and let the soft breeze enter. It
- moved about her hair as she stood there, and she seemed to feel the
- fingers of a dear friend caressing her forehead. Then she sat down once
- more and thought over all that had happened since the morning when she had
- gone on deck to see that gray cloud-land brighten into the lovely green
- slope of Madeira.
- </p>
- <p>
- She thought of all that Standish had told her about himself, and she felt
- her heart overflowing, as were her eyes, with sympathy for him who had
- cast aside his old life and was endeavouring to enter upon the new.
- </p>
- <p>
- As she sat there in her dreaming mood all the days of the past came back
- to her, with a clearness she had never before known. All the pleasant
- hours returned to her with even a more intense happiness than she had felt
- at first. For out of the distance of these Fortunate Islands the ghosts of
- the blessed departed hours came and moved before her, looking into her
- face with their own sweet pale faces; thus she passed from a waking dream
- into a dream of sleep as she lay upon her sofa, and the ghost shapes
- continued to float before her. The fatigue of the day, the darkness of the
- cabin, and the monotonous washing of the ripples against the side of the
- ship, had brought on her sleep before she had got into her berth.
- </p>
- <p>
- With a sudden start she awoke and sprang to her feet in instantaneous
- consciousness, for the monotony of the washing waves was broken by a sound
- that was strange and startling to her ears—the sound of something
- hard tapping at irregular intervals upon the side of the ship just at her
- ear.
- </p>
- <p>
- She ran over to the cabin port and looked out fearfully—looked out
- and gave a cry of terror, for beneath her—out from those gray waters
- there glanced up to her in speechless agony the white face of a man; she
- saw it but for a moment, then it seemed to be swept away from her and
- swallowed up in the darkness of the deep waters.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIV.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent30">
- ... Rashly,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And praised be rashness for it....
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Up from my cabin,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Groped I to find out them... making so bold,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- My fears forgetting manners.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Give me leave: here lies the water; good: here stands the man; good.
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- Let us know
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- ... and that should learn us
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- There's a divinity that shapes our ends
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Rough-hew them how we will.—<i>Hamlet.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> SINGLE cry of
- terror was all that Daireen uttered as she fell back upon her berth. An
- instant more and she was standing with white lips, and hands that were
- untrembling as the rigid hand of a dead person. She knew what was to be
- done as plainly as if she saw everything in a picture. She rushed into the
- saloon and mounted the companion to the deck. There sat the little group
- astern just as she had seen them an hour before, only that the doctor had
- fallen asleep under the influence of one of the less pointed of the
- major's stories.
- </p>
- <p>
- “God bless my soul!” cried the major, as the girl clutched the back of his
- chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good heavens, Miss Gerald, what is the matter?” said Harwood, leaping to
- his feet.
- </p>
- <p>
- She pointed to the white wake of the ship.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There—there,” she whispered—“a man—drowning—clinging
- to something—a wreck—I saw him!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Dear me! dear me!” said the major, in a tone of relief, and with a breath
- of a smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the special correspondent had looked into the girl's face. It was his
- business to understand the difference between dreaming and waking. He was
- by the side of the officer on watch in a moment. A few words were enough
- to startle the officer into acquiescence with the demands of the
- “special.” The unwonted sound of the engine-room telegraph was heard, its
- tinkle shaking the slumbers of the chief engineer as effectively as if it
- had been the thunder of an alarum peal.
- </p>
- <p>
- The stopping of the engine, the blowing off of the steam, and the arrival
- of the captain upon the deck, were simultaneous occurrences. The officer's
- reply to his chief as he hurried aft did not seem to be very satisfactory,
- judging from the manner in which it was received.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Harwood had left the officer to explain the stoppage of the vessel,
- and was now kneeling by the side of the chair, back upon which lay the
- unconscious form of Daireen, while the doctor was forcing some brandy—all
- that remained in the major's tumbler—between her lips, and a young
- sailor—the one who had been at the rail in the morning—chafed
- her pallid hand. The major was scanning the expanse of water by aid of his
- pilot glass, and the quartermaster who had been steering went to the line
- of the patent log to haul it in—his first duty at any time on the
- stopping of the vessel, to prevent the line—the strain being taken
- off it—fouling with the propeller.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the steamer is under weigh it is the work of two sailors to take in
- the eighty fathoms of log-line, otherwise, however, the line is of course
- quite slack; it was thus rather inexplicable to the quartermaster to find
- much more resistance to his first haul than if the vessel were going full
- speed ahead.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The darned thing's fouled already,” he murmured for his own satisfaction.
- He could not take in a fathom, so great was the resistance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hang it all, major,” said the captain, “isn't this too bad? Bringing the
- ship to like this, and—ah, here they come! All the ship's company
- will be aft in a minute.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rum, my boy, very rum,” muttered the sympathetic major.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What's the matter, captain?” said one voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is there any danger?” asked a tremulous second.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If it's a collision or a leak, don't keep it from us, sir,” came a stern
- contralto. For in various stages of toilet incompleteness the passengers
- were crowding out of the cabin.
- </p>
- <p>
- But before the “unhappy master” could utter a word of reply, the sailor
- had touched his cap and reported to the third mate:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Log-line fouled on wreck, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By gad!” shouted the major, who was twisting the log-line about, and
- peering into the water. “By gad, the girl was right! The line has fouled
- on some wreck, and there is a body made fast to it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The captain gave just a single glance in the direction indicated. .
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stand by gig davits and lower away,” he shouted to the watch, who had of
- course come aft.
- </p>
- <p>
- The men ran to where the boat was hanging, and loosened the lines.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Heaven preserve us! they are taking to the boats!” cried a female
- passenger.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don't be a fool, my good woman,” said Mrs. Crawford tartly. The major's
- wife had come on deck in a most marvellous costume, and she was already
- holding a sal-volatile bottle to Daireen's nose, having made a number of
- inquiries of Mr. Harwood and the doctor.
- </p>
- <p>
- All the other passengers had crowded to the ship's side, and were watching
- the men in the boat cutting at something which had been reached at the end
- of the log-line. They could see the broken stump of a mast and the
- cross-trees, but nothing further.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They have got it into the boat,” said the major, giving the result of his
- observation through the binocular.
- </p>
- <p>
- “For Heaven's sake, ladies, go below!” cried the captain. But no one
- moved.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you don't want to see the ghastly corpse of a drowned man gnawed by
- fishes for weeks maybe, you had better go down, ladies,” said the chief
- officer. Still no one stirred.
- </p>
- <p>
- The major, who was an observer of nature, smiled and winked sagaciously at
- the exasperated captain before he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why should the ladies go down at all? it's a pleasant night, and begad,
- sir, a group of nightcaps like this isn't to be got together more than
- once in a lifetime.” Before the gallant officer had finished his sentence
- the deck was cleared of women; but, of course, the luxury of seeing a dead
- body lifted from the boat being too great to be missed, the starboard
- cabin ports had many faces opposite them.
- </p>
- <p>
- The doctor left Daireen to the care of Mrs. Crawford, saying that she
- would recover consciousness in a few minutes, and he hastened with a
- kaross to the top of the boiler, where he had shouted to the men in the
- boat to carry the body.
- </p>
- <p>
- The companion-rail having been lowered, it was an easy matter for the four
- men to take the body on deck and to lay it upon the tiger-skin before the
- doctor, who rubbed his hands—an expression which the seamen
- interpreted as meaning satisfaction.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gently, my men, raise his head—so—throw the light on his
- face. By George, he doesn't seem to have suffered from the oysters;
- there's hope for him yet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And the compassionate surgeon began cutting the clothing from the limbs of
- the body.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, don't take the pieces away,” he said to one of the men; “let them
- remain here Now dry his arms carefully, and we'll try and get some air
- into his lungs, if they're not already past work.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But before the doctor had commenced his operations the ship's gig had been
- hauled up once more to the davits, and the steamer was going ahead at slow
- speed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Keep her at slow until the dawn,” said the captain to the officer on
- watch. “And let there be a good lookout; there may be others floating upon
- the wreck. Call me if the doctor brings the body to life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The captain did not think it necessary to view the body that had been
- snatched from the deep. The captain was a compassionate man and full of
- tender feeling; he was exceedingly glad that he had had it in his power to
- pick up that body, even with the small probability there was of being able
- to restore life to its frozen blood; but he would have been much more
- grateful to Providence had it been so willed that it should have been
- picked up without the necessity of stopping the engines of the steamer for
- nearly a quarter of an hour. It was explained to him that Miss Gerald had
- been the first to see the face of the man upon the wreck, but he could
- scarcely understand how it was possible for her to have seen it from her
- cabin. He was also puzzled to know how it was that the log-line had not
- been carried away so soon as it was entangled in such a large mass of
- wreck when the steamer was going at full speed. He, however, thought it as
- well to resume his broken slumbers without waiting to solve either of
- these puzzling questions.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the chief officer who was now on watch, when the deck was once more
- deserted—Daireen having been taken down to her cabin—made the
- attempt to account for both of these occurrences. He found that the girl's
- cabin was not far astern of the companion-rail that had been lowered
- during the day, and he saw that, in the confusion of weighing anchor in
- the dimness, a large block with its gear which was used in the hauling of
- the vegetable baskets aboard, had been allowed to hang down the side of
- the ship between the steps of the rail; and upon the hook of the block,
- almost touching the water, he found some broken cordage. He knew then that
- the hook had caught fast in the cordage of the wreck as the steamer went
- past, and the wreck had swung round until it was just opposite the girl's
- cabin, when the cordage had given way; not, however, until some of the
- motion of the ship had been communicated to the wreck so that there was no
- abrupt strain put on the log-line when it had become entangled. It was all
- plain to the chief officer, as no doubt it would have been to the captain
- had he waited to search out the matter.
- </p>
- <p>
- So soon as the body had been brought aboard the ship all the interest of
- the passengers seemed to subside, and the doctor was allowed to pursue his
- experiments of resuscitation without inquiry. The chief officer being
- engaged at his own business of working out the question of the endurance
- of the log-line, and keeping a careful lookout for any other portions of
- wreck, had almost forgotten that the doctor and two of the sailors were
- applying a series of restoratives to the body of the man who had been
- detached from the wreck. It was nearly two hours after he had come on
- watch that one of the sailors—the one who had been kneeling by the
- side of Daireen—came up to the chief officer presenting Doctor
- Campion's compliments, with the information that the man was breathing.
- </p>
- <p>
- In accordance with the captain's instructions, the chief officer knocked
- at the cabin door and repeated the message.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Breathing is he?” said the captain rather sleepily. “Very good, Mr.
- Holden; I'm glad to hear it. Just call me again in case he should
- relapse.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The captain had hitherto, in alluding to the man, made use of the neuter
- pronoun, but now that breath was restored he acknowledged his right to a
- gender.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very good, sir,” replied the officer, closing the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XV.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Be thy intents wicked or charitable,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Thou com'st in such a questionable shape.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- What may this mean
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- That thou, dead corse, again...
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Revisit'st thus...?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- I hope your virtues
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Will bring him to his wonted way again.—<i>Hamlet.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was the general
- opinion in the cabin that Miss Gerald—the young lady who was in such
- an exclusive set—had shown very doubtful taste in being the first to
- discover the man upon the wreck. Every one had, of course, heard the
- particulars of the matter from the steward's assistants, who had in turn
- been in communication with the watch on deck. At any rate, it was felt by
- the ladies that it showed exceedingly bad taste in Miss Gerald to take
- such steps as eventually led to the ladies appearing on deck in incomplete
- toilettes. There was, indeed, a very pronounced feeling against Miss
- Gerald; several representatives of the other sections of the cabin society
- declaring that they could not conscientiously admit Miss Gerald into their
- intimacy. That dreadful designing old woman, the major's wife, might do as
- she pleased, they declared, and so might Mrs. Butler and her daughter, who
- were only the near relatives of some Colonial Governor, but such
- precedents should be by no means followed, the ladies of this section
- announced to each other. But as Daireen had never hitherto found it
- necessary to fall back upon any of the passengers outside her own set, the
- resolution of the others, even if it had come to her ears, would not have
- caused her any great despondency.
- </p>
- <p>
- The captain made some inquiries of the doctor in the morning, and learned
- that the rescued man was breathing, though still unconscious. Mr. Harwood
- showed even a greater anxiety to hear from Mrs. Crawford about Daireen,
- after the terrible night she had gone through, and he felt no doubt
- proportionately happy when he was told that she was now sleeping, having
- passed some hours in feverish excitement. Daireen had described to Mrs.
- Crawford how she had seen the face looking up to her from the water, and
- Mr. Harwood, hearing this, and making a careful examination of the outside
- of the ship in the neighbourhood of Daireen's cabin, came to the same
- conclusion as that at which the chief officer had arrived.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford tried to make Mr. Glaston equally interested in her
- protégée, but she was scarcely successful.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How brave it was in the dear child, was it not, Mr. Glaston?” she asked.
- “Just imagine her glancing casually out of the port—thinking, it
- maybe, of her father, who is perhaps dying at the Cape”—the good
- lady felt that this bit of poetical pathos might work wonders with Mr.
- Glaston—“and then,” she continued, “fancy her seeing that terrible,
- ghastly thing in the water beneath her! What must her feelings have been
- as she rushed on deck and gave the alarm that caused that poor wretch to
- be saved! Wonderful, is it not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Mr. Glaston's face was quite devoid of expression on hearing this
- powerful narrative. The introduction of the pathos even did not make him
- wince; and there was a considerable pause before he said the few words
- that he did.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor child,” he murmured. “Poor child. It was very melodramatic—terribly
- melodramatic; but she is still young, her taste is—ah—plastic.
- At least I hope so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford began to feel that, after all, it was something to have
- gained this expression of hope from Mr. Glaston, though her warmth of
- feeling did undoubtedly receive a chill from his manner. She did not
- reflect that there is a certain etiquette to be observed in the saving of
- the bodies as well as the souls of people, and that the aesthetic element,
- in the opinion of some people, should enter largely into every scheme of
- salvation, corporeal as well as spiritual.
- </p>
- <p>
- The doctor was sitting with Major Crawford when the lady joined them a few
- minutes after her conversation with Mr. Glaston, and never had Mrs.
- Crawford fancied that her husband's old friend could talk in such an
- affectionate way as he now did about the rescued man. She could almost
- bring herself to believe that she saw the tears of emotion in his eyes as
- he detailed the circumstances of the man's resuscitation. The doctor felt
- personally obliged to him for his handsome behaviour in bearing such
- testimony to the skill of his resuscitator.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the lady spoke of the possibilities of a relapse, the doctor's eyes
- glistened at first, but under the influence of maturer thought, he sighed
- and shook his head. No, he knew that there are limits to the generosity of
- even a half-strangled man—a relapse was too much to hope for; but
- the doctor felt at that instant that if this “case” should see its way to
- a relapse, and subsequently to submit to be restored, it would place
- itself under a lasting obligation to its physician.
- </p>
- <p>
- Surely, thought Mrs. Crawford, when the doctor talks of the stranger with
- such enthusiasm he will go into raptures about Daireen; so she quietly
- alluded to the girl's achievement. But the doctor could see no reason for
- becoming ecstatic about Miss Gerald. Five minutes with the smelling-bottle
- had restored her to consciousness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite a trifle—overstrung nerves, you know,” he said, as he lit
- another cheroot.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But think of her bravery in keeping strong until she had told you all
- that she had seen!” said the lady. “I never heard of anything so brave!
- Just fancy her looking out of the port—thinking of her father
- perhaps”—the lady went on to the end of that pathetic sentence of
- hers, but it had no effect upon the doctor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “True, very true!” he muttered, looking at his watch.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the major was secretly convulsed for some moments after his wife had
- spoken her choice piece of pathos, and though he did not betray himself,
- she knew well all that was in his mind, and so turned away without a
- further word. So soon as she was out of hearing, the major exchanged
- confidential chuckles with his old comrade.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is not what you'd call a handsome man as he lies at present, Campion,”
- remarked Mr. Harwood, strolling up later in the day. “But you did well not
- to send him to the forecastle, I think; he has not been a sailor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know it, my boy,” said the doctor. “He is not a handsome man, you say,
- and I agree with you that he is not seen to advantage just now; but I made
- up my mind an hour after I saw him that he was not for the forecastle, or
- even the forecabin.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I dare say you are right,” said Harwood. “Yes; there is a something in
- his look that half drowning could not kill. That was the sort of thing you
- felt, eh?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing like it,” said the mild physician. “It was this,” he took out of
- his pocket an envelope, from which he extracted a document that he handed
- to Harwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was an order for four hundred pounds, payable by a certain bank in
- England, and granted by the Sydney branch of the Australasian Banking
- Company to one Mr. Oswin Markham.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, I see; he is a gentleman,” said Harwood, returning the order. It had
- evidently suffered a sea-change, but it had been carefully dried by the
- doctor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, he is a gentleman,” said the doctor. “That is what I remarked when I
- found this in a flask in one of his pockets. Sharp thing to do, to keep a
- paper free from damp and yet to have it in a buoyant case. Devilish sharp
- thing!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the man's name is this—Oswin Markham?” said the major.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No doubt about it,” said the doctor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “None whatever; unless he stole the order from the rightful owner, and
- meant to get it cashed at his leisure,” remarked Harwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then he must have stolen the shirt, the collar, and the socks of Oswin
- Markham,” snarled the doctor. “All these things of his are marked as plain
- as red silk can do it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Any man who would steal an order for four hundred pounds would not
- hesitate about a few toilet necessaries.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Maybe you'll suggest to the skipper the need to put him in irons as soon
- as he is sufficiently recovered to be conscious of an insult,” cried the
- doctor in an acrid way that received a sympathetic chuckle from the major.
- “Young man, you've got your brain too full of fancies—a devilish
- deal, sir; they do well enough retailed for the readers of the <i>Dominant
- Trumpeter</i>, but sensible people don't want to hear them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I won't force them upon you and Crawford, my dear Campion,” said
- Harwood, walking away, for he knew that upon some occasions the doctor
- should be conciliated, and in the matter of a patient every allowance
- should be made for his warmth of feeling. So long as one of his “cases”
- paid his skill the compliment of surviving any danger, he spoke well of
- the patient; but when one behaved so unhandsomely as to die, it was with
- the doctor <i>De mortuis nil nisi malum</i>. Harwood knew this, and so he
- walked away.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now that he found himself—or rather made himself—alone, he
- thought over all the events of the previous eventful day; but somehow
- there did not seem to be any event worth remembering that was not
- associated with Daireen Gerald. He recollected how he had watched her when
- they had been together among the lovely gardens of the island slope. As
- she turned her eyes seaward with an earnest, sad, <i>questioning</i> gaze,
- he felt that he had never seen a picture so full of beauty.
- </p>
- <p>
- The words he had spoken to her, telling her that the day he had spent on
- the island was the happiest of his life, were true indeed; he had never
- felt so happy; and now as he reflected upon his after-words his conscience
- smote him for having pretended to her that he was thinking of the place
- where he knew her thoughts had carried her: he had seen from her face that
- she was dreaming about her Irish home, and he had made her feel that the
- recollection of the lough and the mountains was upon his mind also. He
- felt now how coarse had been his deception.
- </p>
- <p>
- He then recalled the final scene of the night, when, as he was trying to
- pursue his own course of thought, and at the same time pretend to be
- listening to the major's thrice-told tale of a certain colonel's conduct
- at the Arradambad station, the girl had appeared before them like a
- vision. Yes, it was altogether a remarkable day even for a special
- correspondent. The reflection upon its events made him very thoughtful
- during the entire of this afternoon. Nor was he at all disturbed by the
- information Doctor Campion brought vo him just when he was going for his
- usual smoke upon the bridge, while the shore of Palma was yet in view not
- far astern.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good fellow he is,” murmured the doctor. “Capital fellow! opened his eyes
- just now when I was in his cabin—recovered consciousness in a
- moment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, in a moment?” said Harwood dubiously. “I thought it always needed the
- existence of some link of consciousness between the past and the present
- to bring about a restoration like this—some familiar sight—some
- well-known sound.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And, by George, you are right, my boy, this time, though you are a
- 'special,'” said the doctor, grinning. “Yes, I was standing by the
- fellow's bunk when I heard Crawford call for another bottle of soda.
- Robinson got it for him, and bang went the cork, of course; a faint smile
- stole over the haggard features, my boy, the glassy eyes opened full of
- intelligence and with a mine of pleasant recollections. That familiar
- sound of the popping of the cork acted as the link you talk of. He saw all
- in a moment, and tried to put out his hand to me. 'My boy,' I said,
- 'you've behaved most handsomely, and I'll get you a glass of brandy out of
- another bottle, but don't you try to speak for another day.' And I got him
- a glass from Crawford, though, by George, sir, Crawford grudged it; he
- didn't see the sentiment of the thing, sir, and when I tried to explain
- it, he said I was welcome to the cork.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Capital tale for an advertisement of the brandy,” said Harwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the doctor with many smiles hastened to spread abroad the story of
- the considerate behaviour of his patient, and Harwood was left to continue
- his twilight meditations alone once more. He was sitting in his deck-chair
- on the ship's bridge, and he could but dimly hear the laughter and the
- chat of the passengers far astern. He did not remain for long in this
- dreamy mood of his, for Mrs. Crawford and Daireen Gerald were seen coming
- up the rail, and he hastened to meet them. The girl was very pale but
- smiling, and in the soft twilight she seemed very lovely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am so glad to see you,” he said, as he settled a chair for her. “I
- feared a great many things when you did not appear to-day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We must not talk too much,” said Mrs. Crawford, who had not expected to
- find Mr. Harwood alone in this place. “I brought Miss Gerard up here in
- order that she might not be subjected to the gaze of those colonists on
- the deck; a little quiet is what she needs to restore her completely from
- her shock.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was very foolish, I am afraid you think—very foolish of me to
- behave as I did,” said Daireen, with a faint little smile. “But I had been
- asleep in my cabin, and I—I was not so strong as I should have been.
- The next time I hope I shall not be so very stupid.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear Miss Gerald,” said Harwood, “you behaved as a heroine. There is
- no woman aboard the ship—Mrs. Crawford of course excepted—who
- would have had courage to do what you did.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And he,” said the girl somewhat eagerly—“he—is he really
- safe?—has he recovered? Tell me all, Mr. Harwood.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no!” cried Mrs. Crawford, interposing. “You must not speak a word
- about him. Do you want to be thrown into a fresh state of excitement, my
- dear, now that you are getting on so nicely?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I am more excited remaining as I am in doubt about that poor man. Was
- he a sailor, Mr. Harwood?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It appears-not,” said Harwood. “The doctor, however, is returning; he
- will tell all that is safe to be told.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I really must protest,” said Mrs. Crawford. “Well, I will be a good girl
- and not ask for any information whatever,” said Daireen.
- </p>
- <p>
- But she was not destined to remain in complete ignorance on the subject
- which might reasonably be expected to interest her, for the doctor on
- seeing her hastened up, and, of course, Mrs. Crawford's protest was weak
- against his judgment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear young lady,” he cried, shaking Daireen warmly by the hand. “You
- are anxious to know the sequel of the romance of last night, I am sure?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, Doctor Campion,” said Daireen almost mischievously; “Mrs.
- Crawford says I must hear nothing, and think about nothing, all this
- evening. Did you not say so, Mrs. Crawford?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear child, Doctor Campion is supposed to know much better than myself
- how you should be treated in your present nervous condition. If he chooses
- to talk to you for an hour or two hours about drowning wretches, he may do
- so on his own responsibility.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Drowning wretches!” said the doctor. “My dear madam, you have not been
- told all, or you would not talk in this way. He is no drowning wretch, but
- a gentleman; look at this—ah, I forgot it's not light enough for you
- to see the document, but Harwood there will tell you all that it
- contains.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what does that wonderful document contain, Mr. Harwood?” asked Mrs.
- Crawford. “Tell us, please, and we shall drop the subject.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That document,” said Harwood, with affected solemnity; “it is a guarantee
- of the respectability of the possessor; it is a bank order for four
- hundred pounds, payable to one Oswin Markham, and it was, I understand,
- found upon the person of the man who has just been resuscitated through
- the skill of our good friend Doctor Campion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now you will not call him a poor wretch, I am sure,” said the doctor. “He
- has now fully recovered consciousness, and, you see, he is a gentleman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You see that, no doubt, Mrs. Crawford,” said Harwood, in a tone that made
- the good physician long to have him for a few weeks on the sick list—the
- way the doctor had of paying off old scores.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don't be sarcastic, Mr. Harwood,” said Daireen. Then she added, “What did
- you say the name was?—Oswin Markham? I like it—I like it very
- much.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hush,” said Mrs. Crawford. “Here is Mr. Glaston.” And it was indeed Mr.
- Glaston who ascended the rail with a languor of motion in keeping with the
- hour of twilight. With a few muttered words the doctor walked away.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hear,” said Mr. Glaston, after he had shaken hands with Daireen—“I
- hear that there was some wreck or other picked up last night with a man
- clinging to it—a dreadfully vulgar fellow he must be to carry about
- with him a lot of money—a man with a name like what one would find
- attached to the hero of an East End melodrama.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a rather lengthened silence in that little group before Harwood
- spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” he said; “it struck me that it showed very questionable taste in
- the man to go about flaunting his money in the face of every one he met.
- As for his name—well, perhaps we had better not say anything about
- his name. You recollect what Tennyson makes Sir Tristram say to his Isolt—I
- don't mean you, Glaston, I know you only read the pre-Raphaelites—
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let be thy Mark, seeing he is not thine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But no one seemed to remember the quotation, or, at any rate, to see the
- happiness of its present application.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVI.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- It beckons you to go away with it,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- As if it some impartment did desire
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- To you alone.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- ... Weigh what loss
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- If with too credent ear you list his songs
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Or lose your heart...
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Fear it, Ophelia, fear it.—<i>Hamlet.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T could hardly be
- expected that there should be in the mind of Daireen Gerald a total
- absence of interest in the man who by her aid had been rescued from the
- deep. To be sure, her friend Mrs. Crawford had given her to understand
- that people of taste might pronounce the episode melodramatic, and as this
- word sounded very terrible to Daireen, as, indeed, it did to Mrs. Crawford
- herself, whose apprehension of its meaning was about as vague as the
- girl's, she never betrayed the anxiety she felt for the recovery of this
- man, who was, she thought, equally accountable for the dubious taste
- displayed in the circumstances of his rescue. She began to feel, as Mr.
- Glaston in his delicacy carefully refrained from alluding to this night of
- terror, and as Mrs. Crawford assumed a solemn expression of countenance
- upon the least reference to the girl's participation in the recovery of
- the man with the melodramatic name, that there was a certain bond of
- sympathy between herself and this Oswin Markham; and now and again when
- she found the doctor alone, she ventured to make some inquiries regarding
- him. In the course of a few days she learned a good deal.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is behaving handsomely—most handsomely, my dear,” said the
- doctor, one afternoon about a week after the occurrence. “He eats
- everything that is given to him and drinks in a like proportion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The girl felt that this was truly noble on the part of the man, but it was
- scarcely the exact type of information she would have liked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And he—is he able to speak yet?” she asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Speak? yes, to be sure. He asked me how he came to be picked up, and I
- told him,” continued the doctor, with a smile of gallantry of which
- Daireen did not believe him capable, “that he was seen by the most
- charming young lady in the world,—yes, yes, I told him that, though
- I ran a chance of retarding his recovery by doing so.” This was, of
- course, quite delightful to hear, but Daireen wanted to know even more
- about the stranger than the doctor's speech had conveyed to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The poor fellow was a long time in the water, I suppose?” she said
- artfully, trying to find out all that the doctor had learned.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was four days upon that piece of wreck,” said the doctor.
- </p>
- <p>
- The girl gave a start that seemed very like a shudder, as she repeated the
- words, “Four days.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; he was on his way home from Australia, where he had been living for
- some years, and the vessel he was in was commanded by some incompetent and
- drunken idiot who allowed it to be struck by a tornado of no extraordinary
- violence, and to founder in mid-ocean. As our friend was a passenger, he
- says, the crew did not think it necessary to invite him to have a seat in
- one of the boats, a fact that accounts for his being alive to-day, for
- both boats were swamped and every soul sent to the bottom in his view. He
- tells me he managed to lash a broken topmast to the stump of the mainmast
- that had gone by the board, and to cut the rigging so that he was left
- drifting when the hull went down. That's all the story, my dear, only we
- know what a hard time of it he must have had during the four days.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A hard time—a hard time,” Daireen repeated musingly, and without a
- further word she turned away.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Glaston, who had been pleased to take a merciful view of her recent
- action of so pronounced a type, found that his gracious attempts to reform
- her plastic taste did not, during this evening, meet with that
- appreciation of which they were undoubtedly deserving. Had he been aware
- that all the time his eloquent speech was flowing on the subject of the
- consciousness of hues—a theme attractive on account of its delicacy—the
- girl had before her eyes only a vision of heavy blue skies overhanging
- dark green seas terrible in loneliness—the monotony of endless waves
- broken only by the appearance in the centre of the waste of a broken mast
- and a ghastly face and clinging lean hands upon it, he would probably have
- withdrawn the concession he had made to Mrs. Crawford regarding the taste
- of her protégée.
- </p>
- <p>
- And indeed, Daireen was not during any of these days thinking about much
- besides this Oswin Markham, though she never mentioned his name even to
- the doctor. At nights when she would look out over the flashing
- phosphorescent waters, she would evermore seem to see that white face
- looking up at her; but now she neither started nor shuddered as she was
- used to do for a few nights after she had seen the real face there. It
- seemed to her now as a face that she knew—the face of a friend
- looking into her face from the dim uncertain surface of the sea of a
- dream.
- </p>
- <p>
- One morning a few days after her most interesting chat with Doctor
- Campion, she got up even earlier than usual—before, in fact, the
- healthy pedestrian gentleman had completed his first mile, and went on
- deck. She had, however, just stepped out of the companion when she heard
- voices and a laugh or two coming from the stern. She glanced in the
- direction of the sounds and remained motionless at the cabin door. A group
- consisting of the major, the doctor, and the captain of the steamer were
- standing in the neighbourhood of the wheel; but upon a deck-chair, amongst
- a heap of cushions, a stranger was lying back—a man with a thin
- brown face and large, somewhat sunken eyes, and a short brown beard and
- moustache; he was holding a cigar in the fingers of his left hand that
- drooped over the arm of the chair—a long, white hand—and he
- was looking up to the face of the major, who was telling one of his usual
- stories with his accustomed power. None of the other passengers were on
- deck, with the exception of the pedestrian, who came into view every few
- minutes as he reached the after part of the ship.
- </p>
- <p>
- She stood there at the door of the companion without any motion, looking
- at that haggard face of the stranger. She saw a faint smile light up his
- deep eyes and pass over his features as the major brought out the full
- piquancy of his little anecdote, which was certainly not <i>virginibus
- puerisque</i>. Then she turned and went down again to her cabin without
- seeing how a young sailor was standing gazing at her from the passage of
- the ship's bridge. She sat down in her cabin and waited until the ringing
- of the second bell for breakfast.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are getting dreadfully lazy, my dear,” said Mrs. Crawford, as she
- took her seat by the girl's side. “Why were you not up as usual to get an
- appetite for breakfast?” Then without waiting for an answer, she
- whispered, “Do you see the stranger at the other side of the table? That
- is our friend Mr. Oswin Markham; his name does not sound so queer when you
- come to know him. The doctor was right, Daireen: he is a gentleman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you have——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I have made his acquaintance this morning already. I hope Mr.
- Glaston may not think that it was my fault.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Glaston?” said Daireen. .
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; you know he is so sensitive in matters like this; he might fancy
- that it would be better to leave this stranger by himself; but considering
- that he will be parting from the ship in a week, I don't think I was wrong
- to let my husband present me. At any rate he is a gentleman—that is
- one satisfaction.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen felt that there was every reason to be glad that she was not
- placed in the unhappy position of having taken steps for the rescue of a
- person not accustomed to mix in good society. But she did not even once
- glance down towards the man whose standing had been by a competent judge
- pronounced satisfactory. She herself talked so little, however, that she
- could hear him speak in answer to the questions some good-natured people
- at the bottom of the table put to him, regarding the name of his ship and
- the circumstances of the catastrophe that had come upon it. She also heard
- the young lady who had the peculiar fancy for blue and pink beg of him to
- do her the favour of writing his name in her birthday book.
- </p>
- <p>
- During the hours that elapsed before tiffin Daireen sat with a novel in
- her hand, and she knew that the stranger was on the ship's bridge with
- Major Crawford. The major found his company exceedingly agreeable, for the
- old officer had unfortunately been prodigal of his stories through the
- first week of the voyage, and lately he had been reminded that he was
- repeating himself when he had begun a really choice anecdote. This Mr.
- Markham, however, had never been in India, so that the major found in him
- an appreciative audience, and for the satisfactory narration of a
- chronicle of Hindustan an appreciative audience is an important
- consideration. The major, however, appeared alone at tiffin, for Mr.
- Markham, he said, preferred lying in the sun on the bridge to eating salad
- in the cabin. The young lady with the birthday book seemed a little
- disappointed, for she had just taken the bold step of adding to her
- personal decorations a large artificial moss-rose with glass beads sewed
- all about it in marvellous similitude to early dew, and it would not bear
- being trifled with in the matter of detaching from her dress.
- </p>
- <p>
- Whether or not Mrs. Crawford had conferred with Mr. Glaston on the subject
- of the isolation of Mr. Markham, Daireen, on coming to sit down to the
- dinner-table, found Mrs. Crawford and Mr. Markham standing in the saloon
- just at the entrance to her cabin. She could feel herself flushing as she
- looked up to the man's haggard face while Mrs. Crawford pronounced their
- names, and she knew that the hand she put in his thin fingers was
- trembling. Neither spoke a single word: they only looked at each other.
- Then the doctor came forward with some remark that Daireen did not seem to
- hear, and soon the table was surrounded with the passengers.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He says he feels nearly as strong as he ever did,” whispered Mrs.
- Crawford to the girl as they sat down together. “He will be able to leave
- us at St. Helena next week without doubt.”
- </p>
- <p>
- On the same evening Daireen was sitting in her usual place far astern. The
- sun had set some time, and the latitude being only a few degrees south of
- the equator, the darkness had already almost come down upon the waters. It
- was dimmer than twilight, but not the solid darkness of a tropical night.
- The groups of passengers had all dispersed or gone forward, and the only
- sounds were the whisperings of the water in the wake of the steamer, and
- the splashing of the flying fish.
- </p>
- <p>
- Suddenly from the cabin there came the music of the piano, and a low voice
- singing to its accompaniment—so faint it came that Daireen knew no
- one on deck except herself could hear the voice, for she was sitting just
- beside the open fanlight of the saloon; but she heard every word that was
- sung:
- </p>
- <h3>
- I.
- </h3>
- <p class="indent15">
- When the vesper gold has waned:
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- When the passion-hues of eve
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Breathe themselves away and leave
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Blue the heaven their crimson stained,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- But one hour the world doth grieve,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- For the shadowy skies receive
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Stars so gracious-sweet that they
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Make night more beloved than day.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <h3>
- II
- </h3>
- <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 las gone.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Of all joys has one remained?
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Stays one gladness I have known?
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- 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 /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T ended so faintly
- that Daireen Gerald could not tell when the last note had come. She felt
- that she was in a dream and the sounds she had heard were but a part of
- her dream—sounds? were these sounds, or merely the effect of
- breathing the lovely shadowy light that swathed the waters? The sounds
- seemed to her the twilight expressed in music.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then in the silence she heard a voice speaking her name. She turned and
- saw Oswin Markham standing beside her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Miss Gerald,” he said, “I owe my life to you. I thank you for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He could hardly have expressed himself more simply if he had been thanking
- her for passing him a fig at dinner, and yet his words thrilled her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no; do not say that,” she said, in a startled voice. “I did nothing—nothing
- that any one else might not have done. Oh, do not talk of it, please.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will not,” he said slowly, after a pause. “I will never talk of it
- again. I was a fool to speak of it to you. I know now that you understand—that
- there is no need for me to open my lips to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do indeed,” she said, turning her eyes upon his face. “I do
- understand.” She put out her hand, and he took it in his own—not
- fervently, not with the least expression of emotion, his fingers closed
- over it. A long time passed before she saw his face in front of her own,
- and felt his eyes looking into her eyes as his words came in a whisper,
- “Child—child, there is a bond between us—a bond whose token is
- silence.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She kept her eyes fixed upon his as he spoke, and long after his words had
- come. She knew he had spoken the truth: there was a bond between them. She
- understood it.
- </p>
- <p>
- She saw the gaunt face with its large eyes close to her own; her own eyes
- filled with tears, and then came the first token of their bond—silence.
- She felt his grasp unloosed, she heard him moving away, and she knew that
- she was alone in the silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVII.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent20">
- Give him heedful note;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- For I mine eyes will rivet to his face,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And after we will both our judgments join.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart: but it is no
- matter.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- You must needs have heard, how I am punish'd
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- With sore distraction. What I have done
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- I here proclaim was madness.—<i>Hamlet.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was very
- generally thought that it was a fortunate circumstance for Mr. Oswin
- Markham that there chanced to be in the fore-cabin of the steamer an
- enterprising American speculator who was taking out some hundred dozens of
- ready-made garments for disposal to the diamond miners—and an equal
- quantity of less durable clothing, in which he had been induced to invest
- some money with a view to the ultimate adoption of clothing by the Kafir
- nation. He explained how he had secured the services of a hard-working
- missionary whom he had sent as agent in advance to endeavour to convince
- the natives that if they ever wished to gain a footing among great
- nations, the auxiliary of clothing towards the effecting of their object
- was worth taking into consideration. When the market for these garments
- would thus be created, the speculator hoped to arrive on the scene and
- make a tolerable sum of money. In rear of his missionary, he had scoured
- most of the islands of the Pacific with very satisfactory results; and he
- said he felt that, if he could but prevail upon his missionary in advance
- to keep steady, a large work of evangelisation could be done in South
- Africa.
- </p>
- <p>
- By the aid of this enterprising person, Mr. Markham was able to clothe
- himself without borrowing from any of the passengers. But about the
- payment for his purchases there seemed likely to be some difficulty. The
- bank order for four hundred pounds was once again in the possession of Mr.
- Markham, but it was payable in England, and how then could he effect the
- transfer of the few pounds he owed the American speculator, when he was to
- leave the vessel at St. Helena? There was no agency of the bank at this
- island, though there was one at the Cape, and thus the question of payment
- became somewhat difficult to solve.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you want to leave the craft at St. Helena, mister?” asked the
- American, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do,” said Mr. Markham. “I must leave at the island and take the first
- ship to England.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It's the awkwardest place on God's footstool, this St. Helena, isn't it?”
- said the American.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't see that it is; why do you say so?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only that I don't see why you want so partickler to land thar, mister.
- Maybe you'll change yer mind, eh?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have said that I must part from this ship there,” exclaimed Mr. Markham
- almost impatiently. “I must get this order reduced to money somehow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wal, I reckon that's about the point, mister.” said the speculator. “But
- you see if you want to fly it as you say, you'll not breeze about that
- it's needful for you to cut the craft before you come to the Cape. I'd
- half a mind to try and trade with you for that bit of paper ten minutes
- ago, but I reckon that's not what's the matter with me now. No, <i>sir</i>;
- if you want to get rid of that paper without much trouble, just you give
- out that you don't care if you do go on to the Cape; maybe a nibble will
- come from that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't know what you mean, my good fellow,” said Markham; “but I can
- only repeat that I will not go on to the Cape. I shall get the money
- somehow and pay you before I leave, for surely the order is as good as
- money to any one living in the midst of civilisation. I don't suppose a
- savage would understand it, but I can't see what objection any one in
- business could make to receiving it at its full value.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The American screwed up his mouth in a peculiar fashion, and smiled in a
- still more peculiar fashion. He rather fancied he had a small piece of
- tobacco in his waistcoat pocket, nor did the result of a search show that
- he was mistaken; he extracted the succulent morsel and put it into his
- mouth. Then he winked at Mr. Markham, put his hands in his pockets, and
- walked slowly away without a word.
- </p>
- <p>
- Markham looked after him with a puzzled expression. He did not know what
- the man meant to convey by his nods and his becks and his wreathed smiles.
- But just at this moment Mr. Harwood came up; he had of course previously
- made the acquaintance of Markham.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I suppose we shall soon be losing you?” said Harwood, offering him a
- cigar. “You said, I think, that you would be leaving us at St. Helena?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I leave at St. Helena, and we shall be there in a few days. You see,
- I am now nearly as strong as ever, thanks to Campion, and it is important
- for me to get to England at once.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No doubt,” said Harwood; “your relatives will be very anxious if they
- hear of the loss of the vessel you were in.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Markham gave a little laugh, as he said, “I have no relatives; and as for
- friends—well, I suppose I shall have a number now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; the fact is I was on my way home from Australia to take up a certain
- property which my father left to me in England. He died six months ago,
- and the solicitors for the estate sent me out a considerable sum of money
- in case I should need it in Australia—this order for four hundred
- pounds is what remains of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can now easily understand your desire to be at home and settled down,”
- said Harwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't mean to settle down,” replied Markham. “There are a good many
- places to be seen in the world, small as it is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A man who has knocked about in the Colonies is generally glad to settle
- down at home,” remarked Harwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No doubt that is the rule, but I fear I am all awry so far as rules are
- concerned. I haven't allowed my life to be subject to many rules,
- hitherto. Would to God I had! It is not a pleasant recollection for a son
- to go through life with, Harwood, that his father has died without
- becoming reconciled to him—especially when he knows that his father
- has died leaving him a couple of thousands a year.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am such a son,” said Markham, turning round suddenly. “I did all that I
- could to make my father's life miserable till—a climax came, and I
- found myself in Australia three years ago with an allowance sufficient to
- keep me from ever being in want. But I forget, I'm not a modern Ancient
- Mariner, wandering about boring people with my sad story.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said Harwood, “you are not, I should hope. Nor am I so pressed for
- time just now as the wedding guest. You did not go in for a sheep-run in
- Australia?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing of the sort,” laughed the other. “The only thing I went in for
- was getting through my allowance, until that letter came that sobered me—that
- letter telling me that my father was dead, and that every penny he had
- possessed was mine. Harwood, you have heard of people's hair turning white
- in a few hours, but you have not often heard of natures changing from
- black to white in a short space; believe me it was so with me. The idea
- that theologians used to have long ago about souls passing from earth to
- heaven in a moment might well be believed by me, knowing as I do how my
- soul was transformed by that letter. I cast my old life behind me, though
- I did not tell any one about me what had happened. I left my companions
- and said to them that I was going up country. I did go up country, but I
- returned in a few days and got aboard the first ship that was sailing for
- England, and—here I am.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you mean to renew your life of wandering when you reach England?”
- said Harwood, after a pause.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is all that there is left for me,” said the man bitterly, though a
- change in his tone would have made his words seem very pitiful. “I am not
- such a fool as to fancy that a man can sow tares and reap wheat. The
- spring of my life is over, and also the summer, the seed-time and the
- ripening; shall the harvest be delayed then? No, I am not such a fool.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I cannot see that you might not rest at home,” said Harwood. “Surely you
- have some associations in England.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not one that is not wretched.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But a man of good family with some money is always certain to make new
- associations for himself, no matter what his life has been. Marriage, for
- instance; it is, I think, an exceedingly sure way of squaring a fellow up
- in life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A very sure way indeed,” laughed Markham. “Never mind; in another week I
- shall be away from this society which has already become so pleasant to
- me. Perhaps I shall knock up against you in some of the strange places of
- the earth, Harwood.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I heartily hope so,” said the other. “But I still cannot see why you
- should not come on with us to the Cape. The voyage will completely restore
- you, you can get your money changed there, and a steamer of this company's
- will take you away two days after you land.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I cannot remain aboard this steamer,” said Markham quickly. “I must leave
- at St. Helena.” Then he walked away with that shortness of ceremony which
- steamer voyagers get into a habit of showing to each other without giving
- offence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor beggar!” muttered Harwood. “Wrecked in sight of the haven—a
- pleasant haven—yes, if he is not an uncommonly good actor.” He
- turned round from where he was leaning over the ship's side smoking, and
- saw the man with whom he had been talking seated in his chair by the side
- of Daireen Gerald. He watched them for some time—for a long time—until
- his cigar was smoked to the very end. He looked over the side thoughtfully
- as he dropped the remnant and heard its little hiss in the water; then he
- repeated his words, “a wreck.” Once more he glanced astern, and then he
- added thoughtfully, “Yes, he is right; he had much better part at St.
- Helena—very much better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Markham seemed quite naturally to have found his place in Mrs.
- Crawford's set, exclusive though it was; for somehow aboard ship a man
- amalgamates only with that society for which he is suited; a man is seldom
- to be found out of place on account of certain considerations such as one
- meets on shore. Not even Mr. Glaston could raise any protest against Mr.
- Markham's right to take a place in the midst of the elect of the cabin.
- But the young lady in whose birthday book Mr. Markham had inscribed his
- name upon the first day of his appearance at the table, thought it very
- unkind of him to join the band who had failed to appreciate her toilet
- splendours.
- </p>
- <p>
- During the day on which he gave Harwood his brief autobiographical
- outline, Mr. Oswin Markham was frequently by the side of Miss Gerald and
- Mrs. Crawford. But towards night the major felt that it would be unjust to
- allow him to be defrauded of the due amount of narratory entertainment so
- necessary for his comfort; and with these excellent intentions drew him
- away from the others of the set, and, sitting on the secluded bridge,
- brought forth from the abundant resources of his memory a few well-defined
- anecdotes of that lively Arradambad station. But all the while the major
- was narrating the stories he could see that Markham's soul was otherwhere,
- and he began to be disappointed in Mr. Markham.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I mustn't bore you, Markham, my boy,” he said as he rose, after having
- whiled away about two hours of the night in this agreeable occupation.
- “No, I mustn't bore you, and you look, upon my soul, as if you had been
- suffering.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, I assure you, I never enjoyed anything more than that story of—of—the
- Surgeon-General and the wife of—of—the Commissary.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Adjutant-General, you mean,” interrupted the major.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course, yes, the Adjutant; a deucedly good story!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, not bad, is it? But there goes six bells; I must think about turning
- in. Come and join me in a glass of brandy-and-water.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no; not to-night—not to-night. The fact is I feel—I feel
- queer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You're not quite set on your feet yet, my boy,” said the major
- critically. “Take care of yourself.” And he walked away, wondering if it
- was possible that he had been deceived in his estimate of the nature of
- Mr. Markham.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Mr. Markham continued sitting alone in the silence of the deserted
- deck. His thoughts were truly otherwhere. He lay back upon his seat and
- kept his eyes fixed upon the sky—the sky of stars towards which he
- had looked in agony for those four nights when nothing ever broke in upon
- the dread loneliness of the barren sea but those starlights. The terrible
- recollection of every moment he had passed returned to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he thought how he had heard of men becoming, through sufferings such
- as his, oblivious of everything of their past life—men who were thus
- enabled to begin life anew without being racked by any dread memories, the
- agony that they had endured being acknowledged by Heaven as expiation of
- their past deeds. That was justice, he felt, and if this justice had been
- done to these men, why had it been withheld from him?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Could God Himself have added to what I endured?” he said, in passionate
- bitterness. “God! did I not suffer until my agony had overshot its mark by
- destroying in me the power of feeling agony—my agony consumed
- itself; I was dead—dead; and yet I am denied the power of beginning
- my new life under the conditions which are my due. What more can God want
- of man than his life? have I not paid that debt daily for four days?” He
- rose from his chair and stood upright upon the deck with clenched hands
- and lips. “It is past,” he said, after a long pause. “From this hour I
- throw the past beneath my feet. It is my right to forget all, and—I
- have forgotten all—all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Harwood had truly reason to feel surprised when, on the following day,
- Oswin Markham came up to him, and said quietly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe you are right, Harwood: after all, it would be foolish for me
- to part from the ship at St. Helena. I have decided to take your advice
- and run on to the Cape.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Harwood looked at him for a few moments before he answered slowly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, you have decided.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes; you see I am amenable to reason: I acknowledge the wisdom of my
- counsellors.” But Harwood made no answer, only continued with his eyes
- fixed upon his face. “Hang it all,” exclaimed Markham, “can't you
- congratulate me upon my return to the side of reason? Can't you
- acknowledge that you have been mistaken in me—that you find I am not
- so pig-headed as you supposed?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Harwood; “you are not pig-headed.” And, taking all things into
- consideration, it can hardly be denied that Mr. Oswin Markham's claim to
- be exempted from the class of persons called pig-headed was well founded.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVIII.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- 'Tis told me he hath very oft of late
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Given private time to you: and you yourself
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Have of your audience been most free and bounteous.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?—<i>Hamlet</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>RS. Crawford felt
- that she was being unkindly dealt with by Fate in many matters. She had
- formed certain plans on coming aboard the steamer and on taking in at a
- glance the position of every one about her—it was her habit to do so
- on the occasion of her arrival at any new station in the Indian Empire—and
- hitherto she had generally had the satisfaction of witnessing the success
- of her plans; but now she began to fear that if things continued to
- diverge so widely from the paths which it was natural to expect them to
- have kept, her skilful devices would be completely overthrown.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford had within the first few hours of the voyage communicated to
- her husband her intention of surprising Colonel Gerald on the arrival of
- his daughter at the Cape; for he could scarcely fail to be surprised and,
- of course, gratified, if he were made aware of the fact that his daughter
- had conceived an attachment for a young man so distinguished in many ways
- as the son of the Bishop of the Calapash Islands and Metropolitan of the
- Salamander Archipelago—the style and titles of the father of Mr.
- Glaston.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Daireen, instead of showing herself a docile subject and ready to act
- according to the least suggestion of one who was so much wiser and more
- experienced than herself, had begun to think and to act most waywardly.
- Though she had gone ashore at Madeira contrary to Mr. Glaston's advice,
- and had even ventured to assert, in the face of Mr. Glaston's
- demonstration to the contrary, that she had spent a pleasant day, yet Mrs.
- Crawford saw that it would be quite possible, by care and thoughtfulness
- in the future, to overcome all the unhappy influences her childishness
- would have upon the mind of Mr. Glaston.
- </p>
- <p>
- Being well aware of this, she had for some days great hope of her
- protégée; but then Daireen had apparently cast to the winds all her sense
- of duty to those who were qualified to instruct her, for she had not only
- disagreed from Mr. Glaston upon a theory he had expressed regarding the
- symbolism of a certain design having for its chief elements sections of
- pomegranates and conventionalised daisies—Innocence allured by
- Ungovernable Passion was the parable preached through the union of some
- tones of sage green and saffron, Mr. Glaston assured the circle whom he
- had favoured with his views on this subject—but she had also laughed
- when Mr. Harwood made some whispered remark about the distressing
- diffusion of jaundice through the floral creation.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was very sad to Mrs. Crawford. She was nearly angry with Daireen, and
- if she could have afforded it, she would have been angry with Mr. Harwood;
- she was, however, mindful of the influence of the letters she hoped the
- special correspondent of the <i>Dominant Trumpeter</i> would be writing
- regarding the general satisfaction that was felt throughout the colonies
- of South Africa that the Home Government had selected so efficient and
- trustworthy an officer to discharge the duties in connection with the Army
- Boot Commission, so she could not be anything but most friendly towards
- Mr. Harwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then it was a great grief to Mrs. Crawford to see the man who, though
- undoubtedly well educated and even cultured, was still a sort of
- adventurer, seating himself more than once by the side of Daireen on the
- deck, and to notice that the girl talked with him even when Mr. Glaston
- was near—Mr. Glaston, who had referred to his sudden arrival aboard
- the ship as being melodramatic. But on the day preceding the expected
- arrival of the steamer at St. Helena, the well-meaning lady began to feel
- almost happy once more, for she recollected how fixed had been Mr.
- Markham's determination to leave the steamer at the island. Being almost
- happy, she thought she might go so far as to express to the man the grief
- which reflecting upon his departure excited.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We shall miss you from our little circle, I can assure you, Mr. Markham,”
- she said. “Your coming was so—so”—she thought of a substitute
- for melodramatic—“so unexpected, and so—well, almost romantic,
- that indeed it has left an impression upon all of us. Try and get into a
- room in the hotel at James Town that the white ants haven't devoured; I
- really envy you the delicious water-cress you will have every day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You will be spared the chance of committing that sin, Mrs. Crawford,
- though I fear the penance which will be imposed upon you for having even
- imagined it will be unjustly great. The fact is, I have been so weak as to
- allow myself to be persuaded by Doctor Campion and Harwood to go on to the
- Cape.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To go on to the Cape!” exclaimed the lady.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To go on to the Cape, Mrs. Crawford; so you see you will be bored with me
- for another week.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford looked utterly bewildered, as, indeed, she was. Her smile
- was very faint as she said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, how nice; you have been persuaded. Ah, very pleasant it will be; but
- how one may be deceived in judging of another's character! I really formed
- the impression that you were firmness itself, Mr. Markham!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So I am, Mrs. Crawford, except when my inclination tends in the opposite
- direction to my resolution; then, I assure you, I can be led with a strand
- of floss.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was, of course, very pleasant chat, and with the clink of compliment
- about it, but it was anything but satisfactory to the lady to whom it was
- addressed. She by no means felt in the mood for listening to mere
- colloquialisms, even though they might be of the most brilliant nature,
- which Mr. Markham's certainly were not.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I fancied that you were firmness itself,” she repeated. “But you
- allowed your mind to be changed by—by the doctor and Mr. Harwood.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, not wholly, to say the truth, Mrs. Crawford,” he interposed. “It is
- pitiful to have to confess that I am capable of being influenced by a
- monetary matter; but so it is: the fact is, if I were to land now at St.
- Helena, I should be not only penniless myself, but I should be obliged
- also to run in debt for these garments that my friend Phineas F. Fulton of
- Denver City supplied me with, not to speak of what I feel I owe to the
- steamer itself; so I think it is better for me to get my paper money
- turned into cash at the Cape, and then hurry homewards.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No doubt you understand your own business,” said the lady, smiling
- faintly as she walked away.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Oswin Markham watched her for some moments in a thoughtful way. He had
- known for a considerable time that the major's wife understood her
- business, at any rate, and that she was also quite capable of
- comprehending—nay, of directing as well—the business of every
- member of her social circle. But how was it possible, he asked himself,
- that she should have come to look upon his remaining for another week
- aboard the steamer as a matter of concern? He was a close enough observer
- to be able to see from her manner that she did so; but he could not
- understand how she should regard him as of any importance in the
- arrangement of her plans for the next week, whatever they might be.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Mrs. Crawford, so soon as she found herself by the side of Daireen in
- the evening, resolved to satisfy herself upon the subject of the
- influences which had been brought to bear upon Mr. Oswin Markham, causing
- his character for determination to be lost for ever.
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen was sitting alone far astern, and had just finished directing some
- envelopes for letters to be sent home the next day from St. Helena.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What a capital habit to get into of writing on that little case on your
- knee!” said Mrs. Crawford. “You have been on deck all day, you see, while
- the other correspondents are shut down in the saloon. You have had a good
- deal to tell the old people at that wonderful Irish lake of yours since
- you wrote at Madeira.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen thought of all she had written regarding Standish, to prevent his
- father becoming uneasy about him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, yes, I have had a good deal of news that will interest them,” she
- said. “I have told them that the Atlantic is not such a terrible place
- after all. Why, we have not had even a breeze yet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, <i>we</i> have not, but you should not forget, Daireen, the tornado
- that at least one ship perished in.” She looked gravely at the girl,
- though she felt very pleased indeed to know that her protégée had not
- remembered this particular storm. “You have mentioned in your letters, I
- hope, how Mr. Markham was saved?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe I devoted an entire page to Mr. Markham,” Daireen replied with
- a smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is right, my dear. You have also said, I am sure, how we all hope he
- is—a—a gentleman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Hope?</i>” said Daireen quickly. Then she added after a pause, “No,
- Mrs. Crawford, I don't think I said that. I only said that he would be
- leaving us to-morrow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford's nicely sensitive ear detected, she fancied, a tinge of
- regret in the girl's last tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, he told you that he had made up his mind to leave the ship at St.
- Helena, did he not?” she asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course he is to leave us there, Mrs. Crawford. Did you not understand
- so?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did indeed; but I am disappointed in Mr. Markham. I thought that he was
- everything that is firm. Yes, I am disappointed in him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How?” said Daireen, with a little flush and an anxious movement of her
- eyes. “How do you mean he has disappointed you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He is not going to leave us at St. Helena, Daireen; he is coming on with
- us to the Cape.”
- </p>
- <p>
- With sorrow and dismay Mrs. Crawford noticed Daireen's face undergo a
- change from anxiety to pleasure; nor did she allow the little flush that
- came to the girl's forehead to escape her observation. These changes of
- countenance were almost terrifying to the lady. “It is the first time I
- have had my confidence in him shaken,” she added. “In spite of what Mr.
- Harwood said of him I had not the least suspicion of this Mr. Markham, but
- now——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What did! Mr. Harwood say of him?” asked Daireen, with a touch of scorn
- in her voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You need not get angry, Daireen, my child,” replied Mrs. Crawford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Angry, Mrs. Crawford? How could you fancy I was angry? Only what right
- had this Mr. Harwood to say anything about Mr. Markham? Perhaps Mr.
- Glaston was saying something too. I thought that as Mr. Markham was a
- stranger every one here would treat him with consideration, and yet, you
- see——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good gracious, Daireen, what can you possibly mean?” cried Mrs. Crawford.
- “Not a soul has ever treated Mr. Markham except in good taste from the day
- he came aboard this vessel. Of course young men will talk, especially
- young newspaper men, and more especially young <i>Dominant. Trumpeter</i>
- men. For myself, you saw how readily I admitted Mr. Markham into our set,
- though you will allow that, all things considered, I need not have done so
- at all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was a stranger,” said Daireen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But he is not therefore an angel unawares, my dear,” said Mrs. Crawford,
- smiling as she patted the girl's hand in token of amity. “So long as he
- meant, to be a stranger of course we were justified in making him as
- pleasant as possible; but now, you see, he is not going to be a stranger.
- But why should we talk upon so unprofitable a subject? Tell me all the
- rest that you have been writing about.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen made an attempt to recollect what were the topics of her letters,
- but she was not very successful in recalling them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I told them about the—the albatross, how it has followed us so
- faithfully,” she said; “and how the Cape pigeons came to us yesterday.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, indeed. Very nice it will be for the dear old people at home. Ah,
- Daireen, how happy you are to have some place you can look back upon and
- think of as your home. Here am I in my old age still a vagabond upon the
- face of the earth. I have no home, dear.” The lady felt that this piece of
- pathos should touch the girl deeply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no, don't say that, my dear Mrs. Crawford,” Daireen said gently. “Say
- that your dear kind goodnature makes you feel at home in every part of the
- world.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This was very nice Mrs. Crawford felt, as she kissed the face beside her,
- but she did not therefore come to the conclusion that it would be well to
- forget that little expression of pleasure which had flashed over this same
- face a few minutes before.
- </p>
- <p>
- At this very hour upon the evening following the anchors were being
- weighed, and the good steamer was already backing slowly out from the
- place it had occupied in the midst of the little fleet of whale-ships and
- East Indiamen beneath the grim shadow of that black ocean rock, St.
- Helena. The church spire of James Town was just coming into view as the
- motion of the ship disclosed a larger space of the gorge where the little
- town is built. The flag was being hauled down from the spar at the top of
- Ladder Hill, and the man was standing by the sunset gun aboard H.M.S. <i>Cobra</i>.
- The last of the shore-boats was cast off from the rail, and then, the
- anchor being reported in sight, the steamer put on full speed ahead, the
- helm was made hard-a-starboard, and the vessel swept round out of the
- harbour.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Harwood and Major Crawford were in anxious conversation with an
- engineer officer who had been summoned to the Cape to assist in a certain
- council which was to be held regarding the attitude of a Kafir chief who
- was inclined to be defiant of the lawful possessors of the country. But
- Daireen was standing at the ship's side looking at that wonderful line of
- mountain-wall connecting the batteries round the island. Her thoughts were
- not, however, wholly of the days when there was a reason why this little
- island should be the most strongly fortified in the ocean. As the steamer
- moved gently round the dark cliffs she was not reflecting upon what must
- have been the feelings of the great emperor-general who had been
- accustomed to stand upon these cliffs and to look seaward. Her thoughts
- were indeed undefined in their course, and she knew this when she heard
- the voice of Oswin Markham beside her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can you fancy what would be my thoughts at this time if I had kept to my
- resolution—and if I were now up there among those big rocks?” he
- asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- She shook her head, but did not utter a word in answer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder what would yours have been now if I had kept to my resolution,”
- he then said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I cannot tell you, indeed,” she answered. “I cannot fancy what I should
- be thinking.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nor can I tell you what my thought would be,” he said after a pause. He
- was leaning with one arm upon the moulding of the bulwarks, and she had
- her eyes still fixed upon the ridges of the island. He touched her and
- pointed out over the water. The sun like a shield of sparkling gold had
- already buried half its disc beneath the horizon. They watched the
- remainder become gradually less and less until only a thread of gold was
- on the water; in another instant this had dwindled away. “I know now how I
- should have felt,” he said, with his eyes fixed upon the blank horizon.
- </p>
- <p>
- The girl looked out to that blank horizon also.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then from each fort on the cliffs there leaped a little flash of light,
- and the roar of the sunset guns made thunder all along the hollow shore;
- before the echoes had given back the sound, faint bugle-calls were borne
- out to the ocean as fort answered fort all along that line of
- mountain-wall. The girl listened until the faintest farthest thin sound
- dwindled away just as the last touch of sunlight had waned into blankness
- upon the horizon.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIX.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- <i>Polonius</i>. What treasure had he, my lord?
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- <i>Hamlet</i>. Why,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- “One fair daughter and no more,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- The which he loved passing well.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- O my old friend, thy face is valanced since I saw thee last.... What, my
- young lady and mistress! By'r lady, your ladyship is nearer to heaven than
- when I saw you last.... You are all welcome.—<i>Hamlet.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>OWEVER varying,
- indefinite, and objectless the thoughts of Daireen Gerald may have been—and
- they certainly were—during the earlier days of the voyage, they were
- undoubtedly fixed and steadfast during the last week. She knew that she
- could not hear anything of her father until she would arrive at the Cape,
- and so she had allowed herself to be buoyed up by the hopeful conversation
- of the major and Mrs. Crawford, who seemed to think of her meeting with
- her father as a matter of certainty, and by the various little excitements
- of every day. But now when she knew that upon what the next few days would
- bring forth all the happiness of her future life depended, what thought—what
- prayer but one, could she have?
- </p>
- <p>
- She was certainly not good company during these final days. Mr. Harwood
- never got a word from her. Mr. Glaston did not make the attempt, though he
- attributed her silence to remorse at having neglected his artistic
- instructions. Major Crawford's gallantries received no smiling recognition
- from her; and Mrs. Crawford's most motherly pieces of pathos went by
- unheeded so far as Daireen was concerned.
- </p>
- <p>
- What on earth was the matter, Mrs. Crawford thought; could it be possible
- that her worst fears were realised? she asked herself; and she made a vow
- that even if Mr. Harwood had spoken a single word on the subject of
- affection to Daireen, he should forfeit her own friendship for ever.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear Daireen,” she said, two days after leaving St. Helena, “you know
- I love you as a daughter, and I have come to feel for you as a mother
- might. I know something is the matter—what is it? you may confide in
- me; indeed you may.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How good you are!” said the child of this adoption; “how very good! You
- know all that is the matter, though you have in your kindness prevented me
- from feeling it hitherto.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good gracious, Daireen, you frighten me! No one can have been speaking to
- you surely, while I am your guardian——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know what a wretched doubt there is in my mind now that I know a few
- days will tell me all that can be told—you know the terrible
- question that comes to me every day—every hour—shall I see
- him?—shall he be—alive?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Even the young men, with no touches of motherly pathos about them, had
- appreciated the girl's feelings in those days more readily than Mrs.
- Crawford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My poor dear little thing,” she now said, fondling her in a way whose
- soothing effect the combined efforts of all the young men could never have
- approached. “Don't let the doubt enter your mind for an instant—it
- positively must not. Your father is as well as I am to-day, I can assure
- you. Can you disbelieve me? I know him a great deal better than you do;
- and I know the Cape climate better than you do. Nonsense, my dear, no one
- ever dies at the Cape—at least not when they go there to recover.
- Now make your mind easy for the next three days.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But for just this interval poor Daireen's mind was in a state of anything
- but repose.
- </p>
- <p>
- During the last night the steamer would be on the voyage she found it
- utterly impossible to go to sleep. She heard all of the bells struck from
- watch to watch. Her cabin became stifling to her though a cool breeze was
- passing through the opened port. She rose, dressed herself, and went on
- deck though it was about two o'clock in the morning. It was a terrible
- thing for a girl to do, but nothing could have prevented Daireen's taking
- that step. She stood just outside the door of the companion, and in the
- moonlight and soft air of the sea more ease of mind came to her than she
- had yet felt on this voyage.
- </p>
- <p>
- While she stood there in the moonlight listening to the even whisperings
- of the water as it parted away before the ship, and to the fitful flights
- of the winged fish, she seemed to hear some order as she thought, given
- from the forward part of the vessel. In another minute the officer on
- watch hastened past her. She heard him knock at the captain's cabin which
- was just aft of the deck-house, and make the report.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fixed light right ahead, sir.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She knew then that the first glimpse of the land which they were
- approaching had been obtained, and her anxiety gave place to peace. That
- message of the light seemed to be ominous of good to her. She returned to
- her cabin, and found it cool and tranquil, so that she fell asleep at
- once; and when she next opened her eyes she saw a tall man standing with
- folded arms beside her, gazing at her. She gave but one little cry, and
- then that long drooping moustache of his was down upon her face and her
- bare arms were about his neck.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you, thank you, Dolly; that is a sufficiently close escape from
- strangulation to make me respect your powers,” said the man; and at the
- sound of his voice Daireen turned her face to her pillow, while the man
- shook out with spasmodic fingers his handkerchief from its folds and
- endeavoured to repair the injury done to his moustache by the girl's
- embrace.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, now, my Dolly,” he said, after some convulsive mutterings which
- Daireen could, of course, not hear; “now, now, don't you think it might be
- as well to think of making some apology for your laziness instead of
- trying to go asleep again?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then she looked up with wondering eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don't understand anything at all,” she cried. “How could I go asleep
- when we were within four hours of the Cape? How could any one be so cruel
- as to let me sleep so dreadfully? It was wicked of me: it was quite
- wicked.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There's not the least question about the enormity of the crime, I'm
- afraid,” he answered; “only I think that Mrs. Crawford may be responsible
- for a good deal of it, if her confession to me is to be depended upon. She
- told me how you were—but never mind, I am the ill-treated one in the
- matter, and I forgive you all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And we have actually been brought into the dock?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For the past half-hour, my love; and I have been waiting for much longer.
- I got the telegram you sent to me, by the last mail from Madeira, so that
- I have been on the lookout for the <i>Cardwell Castle</i> for a week. Now
- don't be too hard on an old boy, Dolly, with all of those questions I see
- on your lips. Here, I'll take them in the lump, and think over them as I
- get through a glass of brandy-and-water with Jack Crawford and the Sylph—by
- George, to think of your meeting with the poor old hearty Sylph—ah,
- I forgot you never heard that we used to call Mrs. Crawford the Sylph at
- our station before you were born. There, now I have got all your
- questions, my darling—my own darling little Dolly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She only gave him a little hug this time, and he hastened up to the deck,
- where Mrs. Crawford and her husband were waiting for him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, did I say anything more of her than was the truth, George?” cried
- Mrs. Crawford, so soon as Colonel Gerald got on deck.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Colonel Gerald smiled at her abstractedly and pulled fiercely at the
- ends of his moustache. Then seeing Mr. Harwood at the other side of the
- skylight, he ran and shook hands with him warmly; and Harwood, who fancied
- he understood something of the theory of the expression of emotion in
- mankind, refrained from hinting to the colonel that they had already had a
- chat together since the steamer had come into dock.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford, however, was not particularly well pleased to find that her
- old friend George Gerald had only answered her with that vague smile,
- which implied nothing; she knew that he had been speaking for half an hour
- before with Harwood, from whom he had heard the first intelligence of his
- appointment to the Castaway group. When Colonel Gerald, however, went the
- length of rushing up to Doctor Campion and violently shaking hands with
- him also, though they had been in conversation together before, the lady
- began to fear that the attack of fever from which it was reported
- Daireen's father had been suffering had left its traces upon him still.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Rather rum, by gad,” said the major, when his attention was called to his
- old comrade's behaviour. “Just like the way a boy would behave visiting
- his grandmother, isn't it? Looks as if he were working off his feelings,
- doesn't it? By gad, he's going back to Harwood!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought he would,” said Mrs. Crawford. “Harwood can tell him all about
- his appointment. That's what George, like all the rest of them nowadays,
- is anxious about. He forgets his child—he has no interest in her, I
- see.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That's devilish bad, Kate, devilish bad! by Jingo! But upon my soul, I
- was under the impression that his wildness just now was the effect of
- having been below with the kid.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If he had the least concern about her, would he not come to me, when he
- knows very well that I could tell him all about the voyage? But no, he
- prefers to remain by the side of the special correspondent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, he doesn't; here he comes, and hang me if he isn't going to shake
- hands with both of us!” cried the major, as Colonel Gerald, recognising
- him, apparently for the first time, left Harwood's side and hastened
- across the deck with extended hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “George, dear old George,” said Mrs. Crawford, reflecting upon the
- advantages usually attributed to the conciliatory method of treatment.
- “Isn't it like the old time come back again? Here we stand together—Jack,
- Campion, yourself and myself, just as we used to be in—ah, it cannot
- have been '58!—yes, it was, good gracious, '58! It seems like a
- dream.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Exactly like a dream, by Jingo, my dear,” said the major pensively, for
- he was thinking what an auxiliary to the realistic effect of the scene a
- glass of brandy-and-water, or some other Indian cooling drink, would be.
- “Just like a vision, you know, George, isn't it? So if you'll come to the
- smoking-room, we'll have that light breakfast we were talking about.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He won't go, major,” said the lady severely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He wishes to have a talk with me about the dear child. Don't you,
- George?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And about your dear self, Kate,” replied Colonel Gerald, in the Irish way
- that brought back to the lady still more vividly all the old memories of
- the happy station on the Himalayas.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, how like George that, isn't it?” she whispered to her husband.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear girl, don't be a tool,” was the parting request of the major as
- he strolled off to where the doctor was, he knew, waiting for some sign
- that the brandy and water were amalgamating.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm glad that we are alone, George,” said Mrs. Crawford, taking Colonel
- Gerald's arm. “We can talk together freely about the child—about
- Daireen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what have we to say about her, Kate? Can you give me any hints about
- her temper, eh? How she needs to be managed, and that sort of thing? You
- used to be capital at that long ago.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I flatter myself that I can still tell all about a girl after a
- single glance; but, my dear George, I never indeed knew what a truly
- perfect nature was until I came to understand Daireen. She is an angel,
- George.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said the colonel gently; “not Daireen—she is not the angel;
- but her face, when I saw it just now upon its pillow, sent back all my
- soul in thought of one—one who is—who always was an angel—my
- good angel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That was my first thought too,” said Mrs. Crawford. “And her nature is
- the same. Only poor Daireen errs on the side of good nature. She is a
- child in her simplicity of thought about every one she meets. She wants
- some one near her who will be able to guide her tastes in—in—well,
- in different matters. By the way, you remember Austin Glaston, who was
- chaplain for a while on the <i>Telemachus</i>, and who got made Bishop of
- the Salamanders; well, that is his son, that tall handsome youngman—I
- must present you. He is one of the most distinguished men I ever met.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, indeed? Does he write for a newspaper?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, George, I am ashamed of you. No, Mr. Glaston is a—a—an
- artist and a poet, and—well, he does nearly everything much better
- than any one else, and if you take my advice you will give him an
- invitation to dinner, and then you will find out all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Before Colonel Gerald could utter a word he was brought face to face with
- Mr. Glaston, and felt his grasp responded to by a gentle pressure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Glaston; your father and I were old
- friends. If you are staying at Cape Town, I hope you will not neglect to
- call upon my daughter and myself,” said the colonel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are extremely kind,” returned the young man: “I shall be delighted.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Thus Daireen on coming on deck found her father in conversation with Mr.
- Glaston, and already acquainted with every member of Mrs. Crawford's
- circle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Glaston has just promised to pay you a visit on shore, my dear,” said
- the major's wife, as she came up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How very kind,” said Daireen. “But can he tell me where I live ashore,
- for no one has thought fit to let me know anything about myself. I will
- never forgive you, Mrs. Crawford, for ordering that I was not to be
- awakened this morning. It was too cruel.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only to be kind, dear; I knew what a state of nervousness you were in.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now of course,” continued the girl, “when I come on deck all the news
- will have been told—even that secret about the Castaway Islands.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Heavens':” said the colonel, “what about the Castaway Islands? Have they
- been submerged, or have they thrown off the British yoke already?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I see you know all,” she said mournfully, “and I had treasured up all
- that Mr. Harwood said no one in the world but himself knew, to be the
- first to tell you. And now, too, you know every one aboard except—ah,
- I have my secret to tell at last. There he stands, and even you don't
- remember him, papa. Come here, Standish, and let me present you. This,
- papa, is Standish Macnamara, and he is coming out with us now to wherever
- we are to live.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good gracious, Daireen!” cried Mrs. Crawford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What, Standish, Prince of Innishdermot!” said the colonel. “My dear boy,
- I am delighted to welcome you to this strange place. I remember you when
- your curls were a good deal longer, my boy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Poor Standish, who was no longer in his sailor's jacket, but in the best
- attire his Dublin tailor could provide, blushed most painfully as every
- one gazed at him—every one with the exception of Daireen, who was
- gazing anxiously around the deck as though she expected to see some one
- still.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is certainly a secret,” murmured Mrs. Crawford.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, Daireen, to the shore,” said Colonel Gerald. “You need not say
- good-bye to any one here. Mrs. Crawford will be out to dine with us
- to-morrow. She will bring the major and Doctor Campion, and Mr. Harwood
- says he will ride one of my horses till he gets his own. So there need be
- no tears. My man will look after the luggage while I drive you out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I must get my bag from my cabin,” Daireen said, going slowly towards the
- companion. In a few moments she reappeared with her dressing-bag, and gave
- another searching glance around the deck.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now,” she said, “I am ready.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XX.
- </h2>
- <p>
- (Transcriber's Note: The following four chapters 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.)
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Something have you heard
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Of Hamlet's transformation; so call it—
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- ... What it should be...
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- I cannot dream or
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- ... gather
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- So much as from occasion you may glean
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Whether aught to us unknown afflicts him.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- At night we'll feast together:
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Most welcome home!
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Most fair return of greetings.<i>Hamlet.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HAT an
- extraordinary affair!' said Mrs. Crawford, turning from where she had been
- watching the departure of the colonel and his daughter and that tall
- handsome young friend of theirs whom they had called Standish MacDermot.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I would not have believed it of Daireen. Standish MacDermot—what a
- dreadful Irish name! But where can he have been aboard the ship? He cannot
- have been one of those terrible fore-cabin passengers. Ah, I would not
- have believed her capable of such disingenuousness. Who is this young man,
- Jack?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'My dear girl, never mind the young man or the young woman just now. We
- must look after the traps and get them through the Custom-house.' replied
- the major.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Mr. Harwood, who is this young man with the terrible Irish name?' she
- asked in desperation of the special correspondent. She felt indeed in an
- extremity when she sought Harwood for an ally.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I never was so much astonished in all my life,' he whispered in answer.
- 'I never heard of him. She never breathed a word about him to me.'
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Crawford did not think this at all improbable, seeing that Daireen
- had never breathed a word about him to herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'My dear Mr. Harwood, these Irish are too romantic for us. It is
- impossible for us ever to understand them.' And she hastened away to look
- after her luggage. It was not until she was quite alone that she raised
- her hands, exclaiming devoutly, 'Thank goodness Mr. Glaston had gone
- before this second piece of romance was disclosed! What on earth would he
- have thought!'
- </p>
- <p>
- The reflection made the lady shudder. Mr. Glaston's thoughts, if he had
- been present while Daireen was bringing forward this child of mystery,
- Standish MacDermot, would, she knew, have been too terrible to be
- contemplated.
- </p>
- <p>
- As for Mr. Harwood, though he professed to be affected by nothing that
- occurred about him, still he felt himself uncomfortably surprised by the
- sudden appearance of the young Irishman with whom Miss Gerald and her
- father appeared to be on such familiar terms; and as he stood looking up
- to that marvellous hill in whose shadow Cape Town lies, he came to the
- conclusion that it would be as well for him to find out all that could be
- known about this Standish MacDermot. He had promised Daireen's father to
- make use of one of his horses so long as he would remain at the Cape, and
- it appeared from all he could gather that the affairs in the colony were
- becoming sufficiently complicated to compel his remaining here instead of
- hastening out to make his report of the Castaway group. The British nation
- were of course burning to hear all that could be told about the new island
- colony, but Mr. Harwood knew very well that the heading which would be
- given in the columns of the '<i>Dominant Trumpeter</i>' to any information
- regarding the attitude of the defiant Kafir chief would be in very much
- larger type than that of the most flowery paragraph descriptive of the
- charms of the Castaway group; and so he had almost made up his mind that
- it would be to the advantage of the newspaper that he should stay at the
- Cape. Of course he felt that he had at heart no further interests, and so
- long as it was not conflicting with those interests he would ride Colonel
- Gerald's horse, and, perhaps, walk with Colonel Gerald's daughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- But all the time that he was reflecting in this consistent manner the
- colonel and his daughter and Standish were driving along the base of Table
- Mountain, while on the other side the blue waters of the lovely bay were
- sparkling between the low shores of pure white sand, and far away the dim
- mountain ridges were seen.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Shall I ever come to know that mountain and all about it as well as I
- know our own dear Slieve Docas?' cried the girl, looking around her. 'Will
- you, do you think, Standish?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Nothing here can compare with our Irish land,' cried Standish.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'You are right my boy,' said Daireen's father. 'I have knocked about a
- good deal, and I have seen a good many places, and, after all, I have come
- to the conclusion that our own Suangorm is worth all that I have seen for
- beauty.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'We can all sympathise with each other here,' said the girl laughing. 'We
- will join hands and say that there is no place in the world like our
- Ireland, and then, maybe, the strangers here will believe us.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Yes,' said her father, 'we will think of ourselves in the midst of a
- strange country as three representatives of the greatest nation in, the
- world. Eh, Standish, that would please your father.'
- </p>
- <p>
- But Standish could not make any answer to this allusion to his father. He
- was in fact just now wondering what Colonel Gerald would say when he would
- hear that Standish had travelled six thousand miles for the sake of
- obtaining his advice as to the prudence of entertaining the thought of
- leaving home. Standish was beginning to fear that there was a flaw
- somewhere in the consistency of the step he had taken, complimentary
- though it undoubtedly was to the judgment of Colonel Gerald. He could
- hardly define the inconsistency of which he was conscious, but as the
- phaeton drove rapidly along the red road beside the high peak of the
- mountain he became more deeply impressed with the fact that it existed
- somewhere.
- </p>
- <p>
- Passing along great hedges of cactus and prickly-pear, and by the side of
- some well-wooded grounds with acres of trim green vineyards, the phaeton
- proceeded for a few miles. The scene was strange to Daireen and Standish;
- only for the consciousness of that towering peak they were grateful. Even
- though its slope was not swathed in heather, it still resembled in its
- outline the great Slieve Docas, and this was enough to make them feel
- while passing beneath it that it was a landmark breathing of other days.
- Half way up the ascent they could see in a ravine a large grove of the
- silver-leaf fir, and the sun-glints among the exquisite white foliage were
- very lovely. Further down the mighty aloes threw forth their thick green
- branches in graceful divergence, and then along the road were numerous
- bullock waggons with Malay drivers—eighteen or twenty animals
- running in a team. Nothing could have added to the strangeness of the
- scene to the girl and her companion, and yet the shadow of that great hill
- made the land seem no longer weary.
- </p>
- <p>
- At last, just at the foot of the hill, Colonel Gerald turned his horses to
- where there was a broad rough avenue made through a grove of pines, and
- after following its curves for some distance, a broad cleared space was
- reached, beyond which stood a number of magnificent Australian oaks and
- fruit trees surrounding a long low Dutch-built house with an overhanging
- roof and the usual stoëp—the raised stone border—in front.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'This is our house, my darling,' said the girl's father as he pulled up at
- the door. 'I had only a week to get it in order for you, but I hope you
- will like it.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Like it?' she cried; 'it is lovelier than any we had in India, and then
- the hill—the hill—oh, papa, this is home indeed.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'And for me, my own little Dolly, don't you think it is home too?' he said
- when he had his arms about her in the hall. 'With this face in my hands at
- last I feel all the joy of home that has been denied to me for years. How
- often have I seen your face, Dolly, as I sat with my coffee in the evening
- in my lonely bungalow under the palms? The sight of it used to cheer me
- night after night, darling,' but now that I have it here—here——'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Keep it there,' she cried. 'Oh, papa, papa, why should we be miserable
- apart ever again? I will stay with you now wherever you go for ever.'
- </p>
- <p>
- Colonel Gerald looked at her for a minute, he kissed her once again upon
- the face, and then burst into a laugh.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'And this is the only result of a voyage made under the protection of Mrs.
- Crawford!' he said. 'My dear, you must have used some charm to have
- resisted her power; or has she lost her ancient cunning? Why, after a
- voyage with Mrs. Crawford I have seen the most devoted daughters desert
- their parents. When I heard that you were coming out with her I feared you
- would allow yourself to be schooled by her into a sense of your duty, but
- it seems you have been stubborn.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'She was everything that is kind to me, and I don't know what I should
- have done without her,' said the girl. 'Only, I'll never forgive her for
- not having awakened me to meet you this morning. But last night I suppose
- she thought I was too nervous. I was afraid, you know, lest—lest—but
- never mind, here we are together at home—for there is the hill—yes,
- at home.'
- </p>
- <p>
- But when Daireen found herself in the room to which she had been shown by
- the neat little handmaiden provided by Colonel Gerald, and had seated
- herself in sight of a bright green cactus that occupied the centre of the
- garden outside, she had much to think about. She just at this moment
- realised that all her pleasant life aboard the steamer was at an end. More
- than a touch of sadness was in her reflection, for she had come to think
- of the good steamer as something more than a mere machine; it had been a
- home to her for twenty-five days, and it had contained her happiness and
- sorrow during that time as a home would have done. Then how could she have
- parted from it an hour before with so little concern? she asked herself.
- How could she have left it without shaking hands with—with all those
- who had been by her side for many days on the good old ship? Some she had
- said goodbye to, others she would see again on the following day, but
- still there were some whom she had left the ship without seeing—some
- who had been associated with her happiness during part of the voyage, at
- any rate, and she might never see them again. The reflection made her very
- sad, nor did the feeling pass off during the rest of the day spent by her
- father's side.
- </p>
- <p>
- The day was very warm, and, as Daireens father was still weak, he did not
- stray away from the house beyond the avenue of shady oaks leading down to
- a little stream that moved sluggishly on its way a couple of hundred yards
- from the garden. They had, of course, plenty to talk about; for Colonel
- Gerald was somewhat anxious to hear how his friend Standish had come out.
- He had expressed the happiness he felt on meeting with the young man as
- soon as his daughter had said that he would go out to wherever they were
- to live, but he thought it would increase his satisfaction if his daughter
- would tell him how it came to pass that this young man was unacquainted
- with any of the passengers.
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen now gave him the entire history of Standish's quarrel with his
- father, and declared that it was solely to obtain the advice of Colonel
- Gerald he had made the voyage from Ireland.
- </p>
- <p>
- The girl's father laughed when he heard of this characteristic action on
- the part of the young man; but he declared that it proved he meant to work
- for himself in the world, and not be content to live upon the traditions
- of The Mac-Dermots; and then he promised the girl that something should be
- done for the son of the hereditary prince.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXI.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- The nights are wholesome;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- So hallowed and so gracious is the time.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- What, has this thing appeared again to-night?—Hamlet.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN evening came
- Daireen and her father sat out upon their chairs on the stoëp in front of
- the house. The sun had for long been hidden by the great peak, though to
- the rest of the world not under its shadow he had only just sunk. The
- twilight was very different from the last she had seen on land, when the
- mighty Slieve Docas had appeared in his purple robe. Here the twilight was
- brief and darkly blue as it overhung the arched aloes and those large palm
- plants whose broad leaves waved not in the least breeze. Far in the mellow
- distance a large star was glittering, and the only sound in the air was
- the shrill whistle of one of the Cape field crickets.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then began the struggle between moonlight and darkness. The leaves of the
- boughs that were clasped above the little river began to be softly
- silvered as the influence of the rising light made itself apparent, and
- then the highest ridges of the hill gave back a flash as the beams shot
- through the air.
- </p>
- <p>
- These changes were felt by the girl sitting silently beside her father—the
- changes of the twilight and of the moonlight, before the full round shield
- of the orb appeared above the trees, and the white beams fell around the
- broad floating leaves beneath her feet.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Are you tired, Dolly?' asked her father.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Not in the least, papa; it seems months since I was at sea.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Then you will ride with me for my usual hour? I find it suits me better
- to take an hour's exercise in the cool of the evening.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Nothing could be lovelier on such an evening,' she cried. 'It will
- complete our day's happiness.'
- </p>
- <p>
- She hastened to put on her habit while her father went round to the
- stables to give directions to the groom regarding the saddling of a
- certain little Arab which had been bought within the week. In a short time
- Standish was left to gaze in admiration at the fine seat of the old
- officer in his saddle, and in rapture at the delicately shaped figure of
- the girl, as they trotted down the avenue between those strange trees.
- </p>
- <p>
- They disappeared among the great leaves; and when the sound of their
- horses' hoofs had died away, Standish, sitting there upon the raised
- ground in front of the house, had his own hour of thought. He felt that he
- had hitherto not accomplished much in his career of labour. He had had an
- idea that there were a good many of the elements of heroism in joining as
- he did the vessel in which the girl was going abroad. Visions of wrecks,
- of fires, of fallings overboard, nay of pirates even, had floated before
- his mind, with himself as the only one near to save the girl from each
- threatening calamity. He had heard of such things taking place daily, and
- he was prepared to risk himself for her sake, and to account himself happy
- if the chance of protecting her should occur.
- </p>
- <p>
- But so soon as he had been a few days at sea, and had found that such a
- thing as danger was not even hinted at any more than it would be in a
- drawing-room on shore—when in fact he saw how like a drawing-room on
- shore was the quarter-deck of the steamer, he began to be disappointed.
- Daireen was surrounded by friends who would, if there might chance to be
- the least appearance of danger, resent his undertaking to save the girl
- whom he loved with every thought of his soul. He would not, in fact, be
- permitted to play the part of the hero that his imagination had marked out
- for himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yes, he felt that the heroic elements in his position aboard the steamer
- had somehow dwindled down to a minimum; and now here he had been so weak
- as to allow himself to be induced to come out to live, even though only
- for a short time, at this house. He felt that his acceptance of the
- sisterly friendship of the girl was making it daily more impossible for
- him to kneel at her feet, as he meant one day to do, and beg of her to
- accept of some heroic work done on her behalf.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'She is worthy of all that a man could do with all his soul,' Standish
- cried as he stood there in the moonlight. But what can I do for her? What
- can I do for her? Oh, I am the most miserable wretch in the whole world!'
- </p>
- <p>
- This was not a very satisfactory conclusion for him to come to; but on the
- whole it did not cause him much despondency. In his Irish nature there
- were almost unlimited resources of hope, and it would have required a
- large number of reverses of fortune to cast him down utterly.
- </p>
- <p>
- While he was trying in vain to make himself feel as miserable as he knew
- his situation demanded him to be, Daireen and her father were riding along
- the road that leads from Cape Town to the districts of Wynberg and
- Constantia. They went along through the moonlight beneath the splendid
- avenue of Australian oaks at the old Dutch district of Bondebosch, and
- then they turned aside into a narrow lane of cactus and prickly pear which
- brought them to that great sandy plain densely overgrown with blossoming
- heath and gorse called The Mats, along which they galloped for some miles.
- Turning their horses into the road once more, they then walked them back
- towards their house at Mowbray.
- </p>
- <p>
- Daireen felt that she had never before so enjoyed a ride. All was so
- strange. That hill whose peak was once again towering above them; that
- long dark avenue with the myriads of fire-flies sparkling amongst the
- branches; the moonlight that was flooding the world outside; and then her
- companion, her father, whose face she had been dreaming over daily and
- nightly. She had never before so enjoyed a ride.
- </p>
- <p>
- They had gone some distance through the oak avenue when they turned their
- horses aside at the entrance to one of the large vineyards that are
- planted in such neat lines up the sloping ground.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Well, Dolly, are you satisfied at last?' said Colonel Gerald, looking
- into the girl's face that the moonlight was glorifying, though here and
- there the shadow of a leaf fell upon her.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Satisfied! Oh, it is all like a dream,' she said. 'A strange dream of a
- strange place. When I think that a month ago I was so different, I feel
- inclined to—to—ask you to kiss me again, to make sure I am not
- dreaming.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'If you are under the impression that you are a sleeping beauty, dear, and
- that you can only be roused by that means, I have no objection.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Now I am sure it is all reality,' she said with a little laugh. 'Oh,
- papa, I am so happy. Could anything disturb our happiness?'
- </p>
- <p>
- Suddenly upon the dark avenue behind them there came the faint sound of a
- horses hoof, and then of a song sung carelessly through the darkness—one
- she had heard before.
- </p>
- <p>
- The singer was evidently approaching on horseback, for the last notes were
- uttered just opposite where the girl and her father were standing their
- horses behind the trees at the entrance to the vineyard. The singer too
- seemed to have reined in at this point, though of course he could not see
- either of the others, the branches were so close. Daireen was mute while
- that air was being sung, and in another instant she became aware of a
- horse being pushed between the trees a few yards from her. There was only
- a small space to pass, so she and her father backed their horses round and
- the motion made the stranger start, for he had not perceived them before.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I beg you will not move on my account. I did not know there was anyone
- here, or I should not have——'
- </p>
- <p>
- The light fell upon the girl's face, and her father saw the stranger give
- another little start.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'You need not make an apology to us, Mr. Markham,' said Daireen. 'We had
- hidden ourselves, I know. Papa, this is Mr. Oswin Markham. How odd it is
- that we should meet here upon the first evening of landing! The Cape is a
- good deal larger than the quarterdeck of the “Cardwell Castle.”'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'You were a passenger, no doubt, aboard the steamer my daughter came out
- in, Mr. Markham?' said Colonel Gerald.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Markham laughed.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Upon my word I hardly know that I am entitled to call myself a
- passenger,' he said. 'Can you define my position, Miss Gerald? it was
- something very uncertain. I am a castaway—a waif that was picked up
- in a half-drowned condition from a broken mast in the Atlantic, and
- sheltered aboard the hospitable vessel.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'It is very rarely that a steamer is so fortunate as to save a life in
- that way,' said Colonel Gerald. 'Sailing vessels have a much better
- chance.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'To me it seems almost a miracle—a long chain of coincidences was
- necessary for my rescue, and yet every link was perfect to the end.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'It is upon threads our lives are constantly hanging,' said the colonel,
- backing his horse upon the avenue. 'Do you remain long in the colony, Mr.
- Markham?' he asked when they were standing in a group at a place where the
- moonlight broke through the branches.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I think I shall have to remain for some weeks,' he answered. 'Campion
- tells me I must not think of going to England until the violence of the
- winter there is past.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Then we shall doubtless have the pleasure of meeting you frequently. We
- have a cottage at Mowbray, where we would be delighted to see you. By the
- way, Mrs. Crawford and a few of my other old friends are coming out to
- dine with us to-morrow, my daughter and myself would be greatly pleased if
- you could join us.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'You are exceedingly kind,' said Mr. Markham. 'I need scarcely say how
- happy I will be.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Our little circle on board the good old ship is not yet to be dispersed,
- you see, Mr. Markham,' said Daireen with a laugh. 'For once again, at any
- rate, we will be all together.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'For once again,' he repeated as he raised his hat, the girl's horse and
- her father's having turned. 'For once again, till when goodbye, Miss
- Gerald.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Goodbye, Mr. Markham,' said the colonel. 'By the way, we dine early I
- should have told you—half past six.'
- </p>
- <p>
- Markham watched them ride along the avenue and reappear in the moonlight
- space beyond. Then he dropped the bridle on his horse's neck and
- listlessly let the animal nibble at the leaves on the side of the road for
- a long time. At last he seemed to start into consciousness of everything.
- He gathered up the bridle and brought the horse back to the avenue.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'It is Fate or Providence or God this time,' he muttered as if for his own
- satisfaction. 'I have had no part in the matter; I have not so much as
- raised my hand for this, and yet it has come.'
- </p>
- <p>
- He walked his horse back to Cape Town in the moonlight.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I don't think you mentioned this Mr. Markham's name to me, Dolly,' said
- Colonel Gerald as they returned to Mowbray.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I don't think I did, papa; but you see he had gone ashore when I came on
- deck to you this morning, and I did not suppose we should ever meet
- again.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I hope you do not object to my asking him to dinner, dear?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I object, papa? Oh, no, no; I never felt so glad at anything. He does not
- talk affectedly like Mr. Glaston, nor cleverly like Mr. Harwood, so I
- prefer him to either of them. And then, think of his being for a week
- tossing about the Atlantic upon that wreck.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'All very good reasons for asking him to dine to-morrow,' said her father.
- 'Now suppose we try a trot.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I would rather walk if it is the same to you, papa,' she said. 'I don't
- feel equal to another trot now.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Why, surely, you have not allowed yourself to become tired, Daireen? Yes,
- my dear, you look it. I should have remembered that you are just off the
- sea. We will go gently home, and you will get a good sleep.'
- </p>
- <p>
- They did go very gently, and silently too, and in a short time Daireen was
- lying on her bed, thinking not of the strange moonlight wonders of her
- ride, but of that five minutes spent upon the avenue of Australian oaks
- down which had echoed that song.
- </p>
- <p>
- It seemed that poor Mrs. Crawford was destined to have enigmas of the most
- various sorts thrust upon her for her solution; at any rate she regarded
- the presence of Mr. Oswin Markham at Colonel Crawford's little dinner the
- next, evening as a question as puzzling as the mysterious appearance of
- the young man called Standish MacDermot. She, however, chatted with Mr.
- Markham as usual, and learned that he also was going to a certain garden
- party which was to be held at Government House in a few days.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'And you will come too, Daireen?' she said. 'You must come, for Mr.
- Glaston has been so good as to promise to exhibit in one of the rooms a
- few of his pictures he spoke to us about. How kind of him, isn't it, to
- try and educate the taste of the colony?' The bishop has not yet arrived
- at the Cape, but Mr. Glaston says he will wait for him for a fortnight.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'For a fortnight? Such filial devotion will no doubt bring its own
- reward,' said Mr. Harwood.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXII.
- </h2>
- <p class="indent30">
- Being remiss,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Most generous and free from all contriving.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- A heart unfortified,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- An understanding simple and unschooled.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- A violet in the youth of primy nature.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- O'tis most sweet
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- When in one line two crafts directly meet.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Soft,—let me see:—
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings.—<i>Hamlet.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE band of the
- gallant Bayonetteers was making the calm air of Government House gardens
- melodious with the strains of an entrancing German valse not more than a
- year old, which had convulsed society at Cape Town when introduced a few
- weeks previously; for society at Cape Town, like society everywhere else,
- professes to understand everything artistic, even to the delicacies of
- German dance music. The evening was soft and sunny, while the effect of a
- very warm day drawing near its close was to be seen everywhere around. The
- broad leaves of the feathery plants were hanging dry and languid across
- the walks, and the grass was becoming tawny as that on the Lion's Head—that
- strangely curved hill beside Table Mountain. The giant aloes and plantains
- were, however, defiant of the heat and spread their leaves out mightily as
- ever.
- </p>
- <p>
- The gardens are always charming in the southern spring, but never so
- charming as when their avenues are crowded with coolly dressed girls of
- moderate degrees of prettiness whose voices are dancing to the melody of a
- German valse not more than a year old. How charming it is to discuss all
- the absorbing colonial questions—such as how the beautiful Van der
- Veldt is looking this evening; and if Miss Van Schmidt, whose papa belongs
- to the Legislative Council and is consequently a voice in the British
- Empire, has really carried out his threat of writing home to the War
- Office to demand the dismissal of that young Mr. Westbury from the corps
- of Royal Engineers on account of his conduct towards Miss Van Schmidt; or
- perhaps a question of art, such as how the general's daughters contrive to
- have Paris bonnets several days previous to the arrival of the mail with
- the patterns; or a question of diplomacy, such as whether His Excellency's
- private secretary will see his way to making that proposal to the second
- eldest daughter of one of the Supreme Court judges. There is no colony in
- the world so devoted to discussions of this nature as the Cape, and in no
- part of the colony may a discussion be carried out with more spirit than
- in the gardens around Government House.
- </p>
- <p>
- But upon the afternoon of this garden party there was an unusual display
- of colonial beauty and colonial young men—the two are never found in
- conjunction—and English delicacy and Dutch <i>gaucherie</i>, for the
- spring had been unusually damp, and this was the first garden party day
- that was declared perfect. There were, of course, numbers of officers, the
- military with their wives—such as had wives, and the naval with
- other people's wives, each branch of the service grumbling at the other's
- luck in this respect. And then there were sundry civil servants of exalted
- rank—commissioners of newly founded districts, their wives and
- daughters, and a brace of good colonial bishops also, with their partners
- in their mission labours, none of whom objected to Waldteufel or Gung'l.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the large lawn in front of the balcony at the Residence there was a
- good deal of tennis being played, and upon the tables laid out on the
- balcony there were a good many transactions in the way of brandy and soda
- carried on by special commissioners and field officers, whose prerogative
- it was to discuss the attitude of the belligerent Kafir chief who, it was
- supposed, intended to give as much trouble as he could without
- inconvenience to himself. And then from shady places all around the
- avenues came the sounds of girlish laughter and the glimmer of muslin.
- Behind this scene the great flat-faced, flat-roofed mountain stood dark
- and bold, and through it all the band of the Bayonetteers brayed out that
- inspiriting valse.
- </p>
- <p>
- Major Crawford was, in consequence of the importance of his mission to the
- colony, pointed out to the semi-Dutch legislators, each of whom had much
- to tell him on the burning boot question; and Mr. Harwood was naturally
- enough, regarded with interest, for the sounds of the 'Dominant Trumpeter'
- go forth into all the ends of the earth. Mr. Glaston, too, as son of the
- Metropolitan of the Salamander Archipelago, was entitled to every token of
- respectful admiration, even if he had not in the fulness of his heart
- allowed a few of his pictures to be hung in one of the reception rooms.
- But perhaps Daireen Gerald had more eyes fixed upon her than anyone in the
- gardens.
- </p>
- <p>
- Everyone knew that she was the daughter of Colonel Gerald who had just
- been gazetted Governor-General of the new colony of the Castaway Islands,
- but why she had come out to the Cape no one seemed to know exactly. Many
- romances were related to account for her appearance, the Cape Town people
- possessing almost unlimited resources in the way of romance making; but as
- no pains were taken to bring about a coincidence of stories, it was
- impossible to say who was in the right.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was dressed so perfectly according to Mr. Glaston's theories of
- harmony that he could not refrain from congratulating her—or rather
- commending her—upon her good taste, though it struck Daireen that
- there was not much good taste in his commendation. He remained by her side
- for some time lamenting the degradation of the colony in being shut out
- from Art—the only world worth living in, as he said; then Daireen
- found herself with some other people to whom she had been presented, and
- who were anxious to present her to some relations.
- </p>
- <p>
- The girl's dress was looked at by most of the colonial young ladies, and
- her figure was gazed at by all of the men, until it was generally
- understood that to have made the acquaintance of Miss Gerald was a
- happiness gained.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'My dear George,' said Mrs. Crawford to Colonel Gerald when she had
- contrived to draw him to her side at a secluded part of the gardens,—'My
- dear George, she is far more of a success than even I myself anticipated.
- Why, the darling child is the centre of all attraction.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Poor little Dolly! that is not a very dizzy point to reach at the Cape,
- is it, Kate?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Now don't be provoking, George. We all know well enough, of course, that
- it is here the same as at any place else: the latest arrival has the charm
- of novelty. But it is not so in Daireen's case. I can see at once—and
- I am sure you will give me credit for some power of perception in these
- things—that she has created a genuine impression. George, you may
- depend on her receiving particular attention on all sides.' The lady's
- voice lowered confidentially until her last sentence had in it something
- of the tone of a revelation.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'That will make the time pass in a rather lively way for Dolly,' said
- George, pulling his long iron-grey moustache as he smiled thoughtfully,
- looking into Mrs. Crawford's face.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Now, George, you must fully recognise the great responsibility resting
- with you—I certainly feel how much devolves upon myself, being as I
- am, her father's oldest friend in the colony, and having had the dear
- child in my care during the voyage.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Nothing could be stronger than your claims.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Then is it not natural that I should feel anxious about her, George? This
- is not India, you must remember.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'No, no,' said the colonel thoughtfully; 'it's not India.' He was trying
- to grasp the exact thread of reasoning his old friend was using in her
- argument. He could not at once see why the fact of Cape Town not being
- situated in the Empire of Hindustan should cause one's responsible duties
- to increase in severity.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'You know what I mean, George. In India marriage is marriage, and a
- certain good, no matter who is concerned in it. It is one's duty there to
- get a girl married, and there is no blame to be attached to one if
- everything doesn't turn out exactly as one could have wished.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Ah, yes, exactly,' said the colonel, beginning to comprehend. 'But I
- think you have not much to reproach yourself with, Kate; almost every mail
- brought you out an instalment of the youth and beauty of home, and I don't
- think that one ever missed fire—failed to go off, you know.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Well, yes, I may say I was fortunate, George,' she replied, with a smile
- of reflective satisfaction. 'But this is not India, George; we must be
- very careful. I observed Daireen carefully on the voyage, and I can safely
- say that the dear child has yet formed no attachment.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Formed an attachment? You mean—oh Kate, the idea is too absurd,'
- said Colonel Gerald. 'Why, she is a child—a baby.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Of course all fathers think such things about their girls,' said the lady
- with a pitying smile. 'They understand their boys well enough, and take
- good care to make them begin to work not a day too late, but their girls
- are all babies. Why, George, Daireen must be nearly twenty.'
- </p>
- <p>
- Colonel Gerald was thoughtful for some moments. 'So she is,' he said; 'but
- she is still quite a baby.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Even so,' said the lady, 'a baby's tastes should be turned in the right
- direction. By the way, I have been asked frequently who is this young Mr.
- MacDermot who came out to you in such a peculiar fashion. People are
- beginning to talk curiously about him.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'As people at the Cape do about everyone,' said the colonel. 'Poor
- Standish might at least have escaped criticism.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I scarcely think so, George, considering how he came out.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Well, it was rather what people who do not understand us call an Irish
- idea. Poor boy!'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Who is he, George?' 'The son of one of our oldest friends. The friendship
- has existed between his family and mine for some hundreds of years.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Why did he come out to the Cape in that way?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'My dear Kate, how can I tell you everything?' said the puzzled colonel.
- 'You would not understand if I were to try and explain to you how this
- Standish MacDermot's father is a genuine king, whose civil list
- unfortunately does not provide for the travelling expenses of the members
- of his family, so that the young man thought it well to set out as he
- did.' 'I hope you are not imposing on me, George. Well, I must be
- satisfied, I suppose. By the way, you have not yet been to the room where
- Mr. Glaston's pictures are hung; we must not neglect to see them. Mr.
- Glaston told me just now he thought Daireen's taste perfect.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'That was very kind of Mr. Glaston.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'If you knew him as I do, George—in fact as he is known in the most
- exclusive drawing-rooms in London—you would understand how much his
- commendation is worth,' said Mrs. Crawford.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I have no doubt of it. He must come out to us some evening to dinner. For
- his father's sake I owe him some attention, if not for his remark to you
- just now.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I hope you may not forget to ask him,' said Mrs. Crawford. 'He is a most
- remarkable young man. Of course he is envied by the less accomplished, and
- you may hear contradictory reports about him. But, believe me, he is
- looked upon in London as the leader of the most fashionable—that is—the
- most—not most learned—no, the most artistic set in town. Very
- exclusive they are, but they have done ever so much good—designing
- dados, you know, and writing up the new pomegranate cottage wall-paper.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I am afraid that Mr. Glaston will find my Hutch cottage deficient in
- these elements of decoration,' remarked the colonel.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I wanted to talk to you about him for a long time,' said Mrs. Crawford.
- 'Not knowing how you might regard the subject, I did not think it well to
- give him too much encouragement on the voyage, George, so that perhaps he
- may have thought me inclined to repel him, Daireen being in my care; but I
- am sure that all may yet be well. Hush! who is it that is laughing so
- loud? they are coming this way. Ah, Mr. Markham and that little Lottie
- Vincent. Good gracious, how long that girl is in the field, and how well
- she wears her age! Doesn't she look quite juvenile?'
- </p>
- <p>
- Colonel Gerald could not venture an answer before the young lady, who was
- the eldest daughter of the deputy surgeon-general, tripped up to Mrs.
- Crawford, and cried, clasping her four-button strawberry-ice-coloured
- gloves over the elder lady's plump arm, 'Dear good Mrs. Crawford, I have
- come to you in despair to beg your assistance. Promise me that you will do
- all you can to help me.' 'If your case is so bad, Lottie, I suppose I
- must. But what am I to do?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'You are to make Mr. Markham promise that he will take part in our
- theatricals next month. He can act—I know he can act like Irving or
- Salvini or Terry or Mr. Bancroft or some of the others, and yet he will
- not promise to take any part. Could anything be more cruel?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Nothing, unless I were to take some part,' said Mr. Markham, laughing.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Hush, sir,' cried the young lady, stamping her Pinet shoe upon the
- ground, and taking care in the action to show what a remarkably
- well-formed foot she possessed.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'It is cruel of you to refuse a request so offered, Mr. Markham,' said
- Mrs. Crawford. 'Pray allow yourself to be made amenable to reason, and
- make Miss Vincent happy for one evening.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Since you put it as a matter of reason, Mrs. Crawford, there is, I fear,
- no escape for me,' said Mr. Markham.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Didn't I talk to you about reason, sir?' cried the young lady in very
- pretty mock anger.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'You talked <i>about</i> it,' said Markham, 'just as we walked about that
- centre bed of cactus, we didn't once touch upon it, you know. You talk
- very well about a subject, Miss Vincent.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Was there ever such impertinence? Mrs. Crawford, isn't it dreadful? But
- we have secured him for our cast, and that is enough. You will take a
- dozen tickets of course, Colonel Gerald?'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'I can confidently say the object is most worthy,' said Markham.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'And he doesn't know what it is yet,' said Lottie.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'That's why I can confidently recommend it.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'Now do give me five minutes with Colonel Gerald, like a good dear,' cried
- the young lady to Mrs. Crawford! 'I must persuade him.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'We are going to see Mr. Glaston's pictures,' replied Mrs. Crawford.
- </p>
- <p>
- 'How delightful! That is what I have been so anxious to do all the
- afternoon: one feels so delightfully artistic, you know, talking about
- pictures; and people think one knows all about them. Do let us go with
- you, Mrs. Crawford. I can talk to Colonel Gerald while you go on with Mr.
- Markham.'
- </p>
- <p>
- 'You are a sad little puss,' said Mrs. Crawford, shaking her finger at the
- artless and ingenuous maiden; and as she walked on with Mr. Markham she
- could not help remembering how this little puss had caused herself to be
- pretty hardly spoken about some ten years before at the Arradambad station
- in the Himalayahs.
- </p>
- <p>
- How well she was wearing her age to be sure, Mrs. Crawford thought. It is
- not many young ladies who, after ten years' campaigning, can be called sad
- little pusses; but Miss Vincent still looked quite juvenile—in fact,
- <i>plus Arabe qu'en Arabie</i>—more juvenile than a juvenile.
- Everyone knew her and talked of her in various degrees of familiarity; it
- was generally understood that an acquaintanceship of twenty-four hours'
- duration was sufficient to entitle any field officer to call her by the
- abbreviated form of her first name, while a week was the space allowed to
- subalterns.
- </p>
- <h3>
- END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
- </h3>
- <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>
-
-
-
-
-
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