'Tween Snow and Fire by Bertram Mitford (world best books to read txt) đ
- Author: Bertram Mitford
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She had only once before visited the placeâshortly after her marriageâand then had spent but three or four days there. Its beauties had failed at that time to strike her imagination. Now it was different. All the world was a Paradise. It seemed that there was nothing left in life for her to desire.
The house was a fair size, almost too large for the overseer and his family. That worthy had asked Eustace whether Mrs Carhayes would prefer that they should vacate it. There was a substantial outbuilding, usedâor rather only half of it was usedâas a store, and a saddle and harness room. They could make themselves perfectly snug in that, if Mrs Carhayes wished to have the house to herself.
âI can answer for it: Mrs Carhayes wishes nothing of the sort,â he had replied. âIn fact, we were talking over that very thing on the way down.â
âSure the children wonât disturb her, Mr Milne?â
âWell, it hasnât looked like it up till now. Those youngsters of yours donât seem particularly obstreperous, Bentley, and Mrs Carhayes appears rather to have taken a fancy to them than otherwise.â
âIf thereâs a kind sweet lady in this world, Mr Milne, itâs Mrs Carhayes,â said the overseer earnestly. âI know the wifeâll make her right comfortable while sheâs here. Sheâll save her all bother over housekeeping or anything of that sort. Excuse the question, but is she likely to be making a long stay?â
âI shouldnât wonder. You see, thereâs nowhere else for her to go, and the quiet of this place suits her after all she has gone through. And she has gone through some pretty lively times, I need hardly tell you.â
âI should think so. Why, what a narrow escape she had that time you were bringing her away from Antaâs Kloof, when the trap broke down. That was a frightful position for any lady to be in, in all conscience.â
âOh, you heard of that, did you? Ah, I forgot. It was in every paper in the Colonyâmore or less inaccurately reported, of course,â added Eustace drily, and then the two men lit their pipes and chatted for an hour or so about the war and its events.
âBy the way, Bentley,â said Eustace presently. âTalking about that outbuilding. Iâve decided to knock out the partitionâitâs only a wooden oneâbetween the two rooms next to the storeroom, turn them into one, and use it as a bedroom for myself. The house is rather congested with the lot of us in it, after all. We might go to work at it this afternoon.â
âCertainly, Mr Milne, certainly,â replied the overseer. And forthwith the tool-chest was laid under requisition, and in a couple of hours the necessary alterations were effected.
This move did not altogether meet with Eanswythâs approval, and she expostulated accordingly.
âWhy should you be the one turned out in the cold,â she said. âThereâs no earthly necessity for it. You will be horribly uncomfortable over there, Eustace, and in winter the nights will be quite bitter. Then again, the roof is a thatched one, and the first rain we get will start it leaking like a sieve. Besides, thereâs plenty of room in the house.â
âIt isnât that, you dear, thoughtful, considerate guardian angel,â he answered. âIt isnât quite that, though I put it that way for Bentleyâs behoof. It is something of a concession to Mother Grundy, for even here that arch-hag can make her upas power felt, and I donât want to have all the tongues in the district wagging like the tails of a pack of foxhounds just unkennelled. We had enough of that at Komgha. So Iâve arranged that at any rate we shanât be under the same roof. See?â
âYes; but itâs ridiculous all the same. As if we werenât relations, too.â
âAnd will be closer relations soonâin fact, the closest. I suppose we must wait a yearâbut that rests with you.â
âI donât know. Itâs an awfully long time,â and she sighed. Then rather hesitatingly: âDarling, you have never yet shown me the little silver box. We are alone now, andââ
âAnd you are dying to see it. Well, Eanswyth, it is really a most remarkable coincidenceâin fact, almost makes a man feel superstitious.â
It was near sundown. A soft, golden light rested upon the great slopes, and the cooing of doves floated melodiously from the mealie lands in the valley. The mountain stream roared through its rocky bed at their feet, and among the crannies and ledges of a profusion of piled up boulders forming miniature cliffs around, a whole colony of bright eyed little dasjes (The ârock rabbitââreally a species of marmot) were disporting themselves, scampering in and out with a boldness which augured volumes in favour of the peaceable aspect of the two human intruders upon their sequestered haunt.
âAs you say, the time and place are indeed fitting,â said Eustace, sitting down upon a boulder and taking the box from its place of concealment. âNow, my darling, look at this. The assegai point is broken short off, driven with such force that it has remained embedded in the lid.â
It was even as he said. Had the blade been driven with a powerful hammer it could not have been more firmly wedged within the metal.
âThat was the blow I received during the fight,â he went on. âThe dent at the side of it was done when I stood up to the witch-doctress. It did not penetrate much that time; not that the blow wasnât hard enough, for it nearly knocked me down, but the assegai was a rotten one and made of soft iron, and the point flattened out like a Snider bullet. Heavens! but that was an ordealâsomething of a nerve-tickler!â he added, with a grave and meditative look in his eyes, as if he were mentally re-enacting that trying and critical scene.
Eanswyth shuddered, but said nothing. She nestled rather closer to his side, as he continued:
âNow to open the boxâa thing I havenât done since, partly from superstitious motivesâpartly that I intended we should do so togetherâif we ever were to be again together, that is.â
He pressed the spring, but it was out of order. It needed the wrench of a strong knife blade before the lid flew open.
âLook at that. The assegai point is so firmly wedged that it would take a hammer to drive it outâbut I propose to leave it inâuse it as a âcharmâ next war perhaps. Now for the letter. It has gone through and through itâthrough the photograph tooâand has just dinted the bottom of the box.â
He spread out the letter. Those last tender, loving words, direct from her overflowing heart, were pierced and lacerated by the point of the murderous weapon.
âIf this is not an oracle, there never was such a thing,â he went on. âLook at thisââreadingâââI dare not say âGod bless you.â Coming from me it would entail a curse, rather than a blessing...â The point has cut clean through the words âa curseââMfuliniâs assegai has made short work of that malediction. Is not that the voice of an oracle?â
She made no reply. She was watching the development of the investigation with rapt, eager attention.
âHere againââWere anything to befall youâwere you never to come back to me my heart would be broken...â As the paper is folded it has cut through the word âheartââAndâby Jove, this is more than a coincidence! Here again, it has gone clean through the same word. Look at the end. âI want you in all your dangers and hardships to have, with you, these poor little lines, coming, as they are, warm from my hand and heartâ... And now for the photograph. It is a sweetly lifelike representation of you, my dearestââ
A cry from her interrupted him. The portrait was a three parts length cabinet one, cut round to enable it to fit the box, which it did exactly. Right through the breast of the portrait, the assegai point had pierced.
âO Eustaceâthis is an oracle, indeed!â she cried. âDo you not see? The spear point has gone right through my âheartâ again for the third time. My dearest love, thrice has my âheartâ stood between you and deathâonce in the portrait, twice in the letter. At the same time it has obliterated the word âcurse.â It is, indeed, an âoracleâ andâWhat if I had never given you that box at all?â
âI should be a lot of dry bones scattered about the veldt in Bomvanaland at this moment,â he rejoined. âNow you see how your love has twice stood between me and death; has preserved my life for itself. My sweet guardian angel, does not that look as if some Fate had always intended us for each other from the very first!â
Several months had gone by.
The war was nearly over now. Struck on all sidesâdecimated by the terrible breech-loading weapons of the whitesâharried even in their wildest strongholds, their supplies running low, their crops destroyed, and winter upon themâthe insurgent tribes recognised that they were irretrievably worsted. They had no heart for further fightingâtheir principal thought now was to make the best terms they could for themselves. So all along the frontier the disheartened savages were flocking in to lay down their arms and surrender. Those who belonged to independent tribes in the Transkei were treated as belligerentsâand after being disarmed were located at such places as the Government thought fit. Those who were British subjects, and whose locations were within the colonial boundaries, such as the Gaikas, Hlambis, and a section of the Tembus, were treated as rebels and lodged in gaol until such time as it should please the authorities to put them on their trial for high treason, treason, felony, or sedition, according to their rank, responsibilities, or deeds. Still the unfortunate barbarians preferred to discount the chances of the future against present starvationâand continued to come in, in swarms. The gaols were soon crammed to overflowing; so, too, were the supplementary buildings hired for the emergency.
Not all, however, had preferred imprisonment with plenty to liberty with starvation. There were still armed bands lurking in the forest recesses of the Amatola, and in the rugged and bushy fastnesses beyond the Kei. While most of the chiefs of the colonial tribes had either surrendered or been slain, the head and Paramount Chief of all was still at large. âKreli must be captured or killed,â was the general cry. âUntil this is done the war can never be considered at an end.â But the old chief had no intention of submitting to either process if he could possibly help it. He continued to make himself remarkably scarce.
Another character who was very particularly wanted was Hlangani, and for this shrewd and daring leader the search was almost as keen as for Kreli himself. Common report had killed him over and over again, but somehow there was no satisfactory evidence of his identification. Then a wild rumour got about that he had been sent by his chief on a mission to invoke the aid of the Zulu King, who at that time was, rightly or wrongly, credited with keeping South Africa in general, and the colony of Natal in particular, in a state of uneasiness and alarm. But, wherever he was, like his chief, and the âbold gendarmesâ of the burlesque song, he continued to be âwhen wanted never there.â
All these reports and many more reached Eustace Milne, who had taken no active part in frontier affairs since we saw him last. He had even been sounded as to his willingness to undertake a post on behalf of the Government which should involve establishing diplomatic relations with the yet combatant bands, but this he had declined. He intended to do what he could for certain of the rebels later on,
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