Note 2.

"Our freedom's flag Give now its praise, 'Four colours' hold in renown; It waves above the Republic. No force, intrigue, no politics Of Kafir, Briton, Jingo clique, Shall e'er that flag again haul down."

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

LOVE--AND SOME SPORT.

"You are in no hurry to go on, are you, Colvin?" said Stepha.n.u.s De la Rey, while they were at breakfast. "Because, if not, we might take guns and go down to the _hoek_. It's swarming with duiker and blekbok."

"Haven't got my gun along, Stepha.n.u.s, and Aasvogel won't stand fire."

The speaker deemed he had grim reason to know that, and exchanged a glance with Aletta, who had looked up quickly, at the allusion.

"Oh, that is soon got over. You can have your pick of four horses that will, and you can either take my shot-gun or one of the rifles. There will be four of us--you and I and Cornelis and Adrian--and we can drive out that _hoek_ thoroughly."

"I don't care to hunt to-day, Oom Stepha.n.u.s," said Adrian. "I must get back. I have many things to do at home."

Stepha.n.u.s looked narrowly at his nephew, whose manner struck him as strange. He had replied in Dutch, whereas the conversation hitherto had been in English, but that might be due to his new-born and exuberant patriotism.

"Of course, then, you must see to them, nephew," he said. "The reason why so many of us don't get on is, that we are too fond of sitting on the stoep and smoking our pipes." He himself and his son had been at work in the "lands" and at the goatkraals ever since sunrise. At the same time he was rather surprised at the refusal of his nephew, who was a keen sportsman, and would have had a chance of testing his new rifle, which had already been inspected and its points critically discussed.

But Adrian had an object in his refusal, and the name of that object was Aletta. Hardly had the other three men got out of sight than he tried to persuade the girl to take a turn in the garden with him. Ordinarily she would have needed no persuasion, but to-day a sort of instinct rendered the idea distasteful to her. But he waxed eloquent upon their common topic--The Cause--and she yielded.

He told her about the delegate from Pretoria--"the Patriot," as he reverentially termed him, and how that Olympian Jupiter had talked with him--had it been the President himself he could hardly have felt more proud. He told her how the seed had been sown on well-watered and well-prepared ground, and she listened with real interest, for they had an ideal in common, these two young people, and were both burning with a lofty enthusiasm. Besides, the girl was really very fond of Adrian, who was a fine, manly fellow. Now she predicted great things for him. He would rise to be one of the most prominent men in the new Dutch South Africa. There was no limit to the dazzling honours she beheld in store for him.

Yes, the conspiracy was nearly complete. There was not a Dutchman within a radius of fifty miles, he told her, who was not ready to rise, who would not muster at the appointed time and place, rifle in hand, to throw off the English yoke. Those cursed English! He trusted that their future rulers would not allow one single Englishman to remain in the country--no, not one. He hated them all.

This brought a meaning smile to Aletta's face. She remembered Adrian's manner when he had first come upon her--and the Englishman--but an hour or two before.

"But, Adrian," she said, "why are you so bitter against the English now?

You used not to be. Of course we must get the land back from them, but we need not drive them all out. Some of the better ones might remain."

"There are no 'better ones,'" he replied, vehemently.

"I would not say that. Our English neighbours round here, what few there are, seem nice enough. There is Mrs Wenlock, for instance, and Frank--I haven't seen the daughter yet. And then there is that Mr Kershaw--he seems a particularly pleasant sort of man."

At this the resentful scowl on Adrian's face deepened. His strong hand opened and shut once or twice as though gripping at somebody's throat.

"So you seemed to think when I came upon you this morning," he answered in a sort of growl. Aletta started, and gazed at him in wide-eyed astonishment.

"Why, Adrian, I never saw the man until last evening," she said, gently, but conscious that the colour was flowing over her face in waves. For the blunt retort had, as it were, in a flash opened her mind to herself, and what she saw therein had frightened her.

"So? Then you have turned your time to very quick use," he answered.

Then, seeing her start away from him with a cold, yet hurt, look, his tone changed entirely. "Forgive me, Aletta, darling. I am jealous, I suppose, and, of course, a fool. But I love you. I always have since we were children together. And I have been longing and longing for you to come back, and have been counting the weeks to it. Ask Andrina if I have not. Then when you do come back, and I see you for the first time, it is with this Englishman. Forgive me if I have said anything to offend you, Aletta, and say you will marry me. I love you so."

His tone was deep and soft and pleading, and the listener, stealing a look at his face, could not but feel much moved. He was so intensely in earnest. And he was a really fine-looking young fellow was this young Dutchman, a lover of whom any girl might feel the reverse of ashamed.

As a matter of fact this one did so feel, and her voice was very soft as she answered:

"Oh, Adrian, why did you ask me? I don't see how I can."

It was a pretty lame answer, and she felt it to be. He, for his part, proceeded to improve the occasion and to urge his cause again and again with all the arguments he could find. She, for hers, was dangerously tempted to temporise, but by some merciful instinct rejected that refuge for the weak. She answered him to the same effect as before, but this time more clearly, more decidedly.

Then he began to press her for reasons. Why did she persist in refusing him? He was well off, and could make her thoroughly comfortable. He defied anyone to say a word against his character or life. He was sure his uncle would approve, and so on. Then, waxing bitter, he hinted that since she had been away at Cape Town she had forgotten her own people.

Only the English were good enough now.

Adrian had better have let that side alone. It spoiled the good effect he was already producing in that it was first of all somewhat childish-- in the second place unjust.

"That is not true, Adrian," she answered gravely, but without anger, "and you ought not to say it. I am of my own people as much as ever. I have seen English people, too, whom I like and admire. Those of good blood are second to no race in the world--for good blood is good blood all the world over. But you ought not to say some of the things you have been saying. You wound me and--insult me."

"So? I wound you and insult you? Forgive me, Aletta. I would not do that for all the world. But look! As you say, you have only known this Englishman since last evening. That is good. But the man who comes between you and me--Englishman or who ever he is--had better take care, great care, for it will mean life or death to him or to me. The time is coming when every man's rifle will be his law--the avenger of his own wrongs."

The tone was quiet now. There was that in it which was so earnest, so free from vehemence as to redeem it from mere bounce or melodramatics.

Aletta, listening, was secretly impressed, and secretly more than respected him.

"You would not do murder, surely, Adrian?" she said, the narrative she had heard only that morning rising luridly before her mind.

"No, not murder, only justice. The time is coming when we can call upon those who have wronged us to face us, man to man. That is not murder."

"N-no. But does it not strike you, Adrian, that you may be doing your best to kill all the liking and regard I have always felt for you? And are you not taking a great deal too much upon yourself?" Then, with a considerable flash of spirit, "Who gave you any right to take possession of me in this cool and calm manner? What right have you to tell me whom I am not to be friendly with--yes, and even more, if I choose that it shall be so? I think you are taking a great deal too much upon yourself, and I tell you so. But there, do not let us quarrel," she added, with sudden softening. "And I think it is time we returned to the house."

"As you will, Aletta. But I could not help saying that I did, for I mean it--every word of it. Of course we will not quarrel. How could I quarrel with you?"

The tone was sad and grave, but there was a dignity about it that appealed to Aletta. She did not fail to notice, either, that the other had not come off badly under somewhat difficult and delicate circ.u.mstances.

The while those upon slaughter intent were pursuing their way. Colvin Kershaw was a very keen sportsman, and reckoned that life was never so thoroughly well worth living as at moments like this--when mounted on a good shooting-horse, an excellent gun in his hand, the whole day before him, and, spreading around, as fine a bit of veldt for providing a mixed bag as one could wish to range over--just rolling enough to be picturesque--the Karroo bush and the mimosa, which grew in solitary ragged clumps or lined along the river banks, affording plenty of cover for birds or the smaller kind of buck. The sun flamed down from a blue and cloudless vault, but without much power, for it was about midwinter, and the atmosphere of the high veldt was clear and exhilarating to the last degree.

Two Kafir boys had been sent round to the further side of the "camp,"

with instructions to lure thither and keep occupied such vicious male ostriches as would otherwise have interfered with, and, so far as their jurisdiction extended, entirely prevented sport; and the three hors.e.m.e.n were riding abreast, fifty yards or so apart, at a slow foot's pace.

Behind them walked Gert, armed with a formidable thorn _tack_ in case any of the aggressive bipeds should a.s.sail them in preference to being fooled by the diversion aforesaid. But just before they took up their positions, Cornelis being out of earshot, Stepha.n.u.s remarked:

"I wonder what is the matter with Adrian, Colvin? I have never known him not want to hunt before. He was looking very strange, too."

"He was," replied the other, who had his own ideas upon that head.

"So? you noticed it, then? Well, my notion is this," sinking his voice.

"Adrian is _slim_. I believe he remained at home only to have a quiet talk with Aletta."

"Yes?"

"I think so. They were always devoted to each other as children and then as they grew up together. I thought it good for her to go away and see something of the world and of people, so I sent her to some relatives of mine to Cape Town."

"She has done them credit I don't mind telling you, Stepha.n.u.s, that even the little I've seen of your eldest daughter justifies me in saying she would show to advantage anywhere--_yes_, to the greatest advantage--in London or anywhere you like."