Part 32 (1/2)

”No, not in any way,” she repeated at last.

”And all shall be as it has been?”

”Yes.” Then after a pause: ”We must really go in.”

He released her, and they moved away, but her steps were unsteady. The strain had told upon her, and she felt weak and faint. Quickly he pa.s.sed his arm round her. ”No, not that,” she said, gently, but firmly.

”I will take your arm, if I may.” And in silence they retraced the bush path and entered the little gate, then through the orange garden over the runnel of water where they had stood that night when accidentally watched by Ethel. A light was burning in the room as they entered, and in an arm-chair eat Mrs Brathwaite, fast asleep, her lord having retired half an hour ago.

”Why, Lilian!” she exclaimed, starting up. ”You have been out a long time! I hope you haven't caught cold, child!”

”Oh, no; it's such a warm night. We have been astronomising,” replied she, with an attempt at a laugh which fell mournfully flat; but the old lady was too sleepy to detect its hollowness.

”Well, better get to bed. I suppose you'll do the same, Arthur, now you haven't got any one to sit up and smoke all night with.” For Hicks was away, as afore stated.

”No, I don't feel restful. Good-night. Would that to-morrow were here now!” he added, in a low, tender voice as he held Lilian's hand in a lingering clasp. A responsive pressure, and she was gone.

He withdrew to his quarters--to bed, but not to sleep--and hour followed hour as he lay with his gaze fixed upon the square patch of golden stars bounded by the framework of his open window. Well, the die had been thrown at last. He knew where he was now, at any rate. But it was too soon to despair, for had he not close upon two months wherein to make the most of his opportunities? Determination should win, as it always had in his case. Ah, but this was outside all previous experience.

Well, they had still nearly two months together. Then he began to wonder whether he was actually undergoing this feeling, or if it were not a dream from which he would presently awaken.

He started up from a fitful and disturbed doze before dawn, and resolved to go for a ride. He would go down to the vij-kraal and count out Umgiswe's flock.

During the night the sky had become overcast, and now, as he rode along in the grey dawn, dark clouds were lowering to the very earth, and the mist swept in powdery flakes through the sprays of the bush. It was a thoroughly depressing morning, and the horseman's reflections were coloured thereby. And through the chill drizzle seemed to echo the far-off tones of a sweet, low voice: ”I can give you no comfort. You have given me the best of yourself, and I can give you--nothing.”

We allow that to sheep from disappointed love is something of a transition. Nevertheless, the incident which occurred at the shepherd's kraal that morning must be narrated, because it is not without its bearing on the future events of our story.

”Now, Umgiswe, turn out, and let's count,” said Claverton, making a slash with his whip at a couple of lean, ill-looking curs, which sneaked sniffing round his horse's heels. ”Eh--what's that you've got there?”

as the Kafir, having saluted him, began fumbling about with something on the kraal fence.

”Two dead sheep,” answered the old fellow, producing a couple of skins, with the air of a man who has triumphantly vindicated his character against all aspersions.

Claverton examined the skins narrowly. Having satisfied himself that their sometime wearers had died of disease, and had not been slain to appease the insatiable appet.i.tes of Umgiswe and a few boon companions, he proceeded to count out the flock. The score was correct.

”All right, Umgiswe; here's some smoke for you,” he said, throwing the old herd a bit of tobacco. ”But I say, though--whose dogs are those?”

The Kafir glanced uneasily at the curs aforesaid.

”A man who slept here last night left them. They are sure to go after him. He has not been long gone.”

”No,” replied Claverton, carelessly, ”he has not been long gone, or rather _they_ have not been long gone, for they are still here. Turn them out, Umgiswe.” For his ear had detected the sound of several male voices in the hut as he pa.s.sed its door.

”Whouw!” exclaimed the old man, turning half aside to conceal an embarra.s.sed smile. ”They are my brothers, _'Nkos_. They just came to visit me.”

”Of course they are. If the half of Kafirland were to turn up here they would all be your brothers, just come to visit you. It won't do. So turn them out, you old shuffler, and let's have a look at them.”

Then the intruders, to the number of three, who had been attentive listeners to the above confabulation, turned out and saluted Claverton.

All three were finely-made fellows, but the elder was a man of almost herculean build. His powerful frame, which was scantily clad, was smeared from head to foot with red ochre; above his left elbow he wore an armlet of solid ivory, and from his appearance he was evidently a man of rank. In his hand he held a couple of kerries made of heavy iron-wood; one of his companions was similarly armed, while the third carried a bundle of a.s.segais.