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diff --git a/old/51938-h/51938-h.htm b/old/51938-h/51938-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 0e04f4d..0000000 --- a/old/51938-h/51938-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,16023 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html - PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> - <title> - Daireen, complete by Frank Frankfort Moore - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} - .x-small {font-size: 75%;} - .small {font-size: 85%;} - .large {font-size: 115%;} - .x-large {font-size: 130%;} - .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} - .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} - .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} - .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} - .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} - .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; - font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; - text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; - border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} - .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} - span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -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 - - - - - - -</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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