"Wait a bit, you _verdomde rooinek_!" snarled the Boer to himself.

"Your days are told. They may be counted by weeks now, and not many of _them_. These accursed English--is it not enough that they rule our land and treat us like Kafirs, without coming between us and those we love? Their time of reckoning will be here directly--and of this one too. He little knows--he little knows, that he will be dead in a few weeks. No-no!"

He said truly. The object of this murderous though not altogether unjustifiable hatred was holding on his way through the sweet golden sunshine, little thinking of the dread ordeal of blood and horror through which he, and some of those with whom his fate was bound up, were soon--and very soon--to pa.s.s.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

"OF GREAT PRICE."

That visit to the Wenlocks had been productive of result in more directions than one; still, why should it have affected Aletta De la Rey of all people? Yet affect her it did, inasmuch as, after it, she became more happy and light-hearted than ever.

Little had she thought at the time of carelessly suggesting the idea to her mother that such could possibly be the result. But weeks had gone by since the suggestion was made, and the lapse of weeks has sometimes a curious way of bringing about changes and developments by no means to be foreseen by those most concerned therein; which for present purposes may be taken to mean that she and Colvin Kershaw had by this time seen a great deal of each other. And this period Aletta, for her part, looked back upon with vivid and unalloyed pleasure.

He had been a great deal at Ratels Hoek during that time, so much so as to lay her open to considerable chaff at the hands of her sisters, notably at those of Condaas, who declared that it was "a case," in that he had never been known to favour them with anything like so much of his company before. Even old Tant' Plessis had remarked upon it, appending by way of rider the query as to when he was going to marry Wenlock's sister, "the only English girl" and so forth, which joke had become a standing one by then. But Aletta could afford to laugh at it now, in the most whole-souled manner, which development was among the results of that memorable visit.

All their talks together--now grave, now semi-serious, now wholly gay-- she delighted to dwell upon. This man was entirely outside her previous experience. Nothing he said ever jarred, even in the slightest degree.

There was no question they discussed together to which he could not find a perfectly intelligible side, even if differing; no show of impatience or of humouring her; everything treated from a philosophical, well-thought-out point of view. Or, if the topic were of lighter import, the exact point where the humour came in would somehow strike them simultaneously. There was a subtle vein of sympathy between them, and to dwell upon it thrilled her with a blissful and exquisite delight.

Other considerations apart, it was intensely flattering, the more so as she realised that the att.i.tude was genuine. She had met with plenty of attention during her absence from home, but her head had not been in the least turned thereby. But of all the attention she had met, none had been so grateful, so satisfying, and indeed so sweet as this.

Sometimes, in fact, she would wonder if she were not over-estimating its burden, but the momentary misgiving would be quenched. Tone, glance, everything told her that such was not the case.

Yet what could he see in her, to take so much pleasure in talking with her, he who had seen so much of the world what time she herself was running about in short frocks, not so very long able to talk distinctly?

How could he give so much consideration to her crude ideas--acquired and fostered, she supposed, during a not very long sojourn in a fifth-rate capital--he who had seen all the mighty capitals of both worlds, and knew some of them intimately? Personally, too, where did the attraction lie? She was not even pretty, like her sister Andrina, or May Wenlock. Yet, comparing herself with the latter, a smile spread over her face, rippling out into a low, whole-hearted laugh, all alone as she was.

Now the above reflections const.i.tuted just about as full and complete a tribute as Aletta De la Rey could have given to any man. She had no poorer an opinion of herself than had other girls of her quality and circ.u.mstance. She was aware--normally, that is--that what she lacked in attractiveness in one direction was counterbalanced by different advantages in another. Yet now she found herself magnifying her defects, and almost entirely losing sight of their compensations. Of a truth here too were "symptoms."

Thus meditating, not quite for the first time, Aletta strolled along through the willows by the river bed--much more bed than "river" now, although a faint trickle had kept some of the deeper reaches fairly supplied. She was given to an occasional solitary stroll. It was good for the individual to retire sometimes into private life, was her explanation. But the other girls put--or pretended to put--a different construction upon it. They declared mischievously that there was something on between her and somebody in Cape Town, and she wanted to go and have a good think about him. She, for her part, only laughed, and let them think so if they wanted to. But they humoured her and her inclinations all the same, for, as we said elsewhere, Aletta occupied a sort of metaphorical pedestal within her own family circle.

It was a lovely morning--blue and golden and cloudless. A mirage-like shimmer arose from the veldt, and the sunlight slanted upon the facets of near rock-walls engirdling turret-shaped cone, or flat-topped mount, as though sweeping over patches of gems. A "kok-a-viek," the yellow African thrush, was calling to his mate in his melodious triple hoot among the willows hard by, and the sounds of workaday life--mellowed by distance--the lowing of cattle, and the shout of native voices, were borne to the girl's ears as she stood there, revelling, though half unconsciously, in the glow of her youth and vitality, in the sheer joy and delight of living.

Suddenly an old koorhaan concealed somewhere among the thorns on the opposite river bank opened his head, and emitted his long, strident crowing. Another answered further off, then another, and presently the whole veldt was alive with the shrill barkings of the clamourous little bustards. Then the first offender rose with an uproarious suddenness that startled Aletta, and put up about ten more, which could be seen winging their way, far and near, adding their alarmed cacklings to his.

Something had scared the bird--something or somebody. Who could it be?

Aletta's face flushed. Was it Adrian back again? He had been there that morning and had ridden off, very moody and sullen. Had he thought better of it and returned? Was it Adrian--or--And then the flush which had spread over her cheeks and throat deepened, and her eyes shone with a glad light, for there was a hoof-stroke or two hard by--on this side, not on the opposite bank where she had expected the new-comer, whoever it might be, first to show, and then the ident.i.ty of the latter was exactly as she could have wished.

"I am in luck's way this morning," said Colvin, dismounting. "Are you indulging in a solitary meditation, Miss De la Rey?"

She answered in the affirmative. The while he had taken in at a glance the whole picture: the tall, graceful figure against the background of trees, the lighting up of the hazel eyes, the flush of colour which rendered the face, framed within an ample white "kapje," wonderfully soft and winning, as its owner stood, with her head thrown ever so slightly back, there before him. Something or other--perhaps it was the "kapje" she was wearing--recalled to his mind a somewhat similar meeting in which May Wenlock const.i.tuted the other party to the transaction; but, if so, it was only to think what a long time ago that seemed, and what a change had come into and over his life since.

Then, as her glance fell upon his horse, and some birds dangling from the saddle:

"Why, you have been shooting already. Tell me, do you even go to bed with a cartridge-belt on? How many birds have you got?"

"Brace of partridges and two koorhaan. One is a _vaal_ koorhaan, and a fine one too. It took an astonishingly long shot to bring him down. I could have brought along a blekbok, but thought I'd let him go."

"Why?"

"Oh, I didn't want the bother of loading him up--and the rest of it. He got up right under Punch's feet just after I turned into the gate of the third camp. It was impossible to have missed him, for Punch is as steady as a rock. So he stood, or rather ran, reprieved. No. I couldn't be bothered with him to-day."

"Why--to-day?"

But with the words she dropped her eyes. Was it before something in his glance? Immediately, however, she raised them again and met his fully, bravely.

"Listen, Aletta. I have something to tell you, and it strikes me first as a splendid augury that I should have found you like this all alone.

It is of no use beating about the bush, but--give me your hand, dear, then perhaps I shall be able to tell you better."

Without removing her eyes from his, she put forth her hand. Augury Number 2, he thought, as the long, soft tapering fingers slipped into his. She, for her part, thought how firm, and tender, and speaking was that gaze which she met; and it was of a piece with the manner. No exuberant over-confidence which would have jarred, none of the self-effacing, stuttering diffidence, which would have sapped ever so little, even if but momentarily, the high estimation in which she held this man. Could she herself be as self-possessed?

"I love you, darling," he said. "I have come over this morning on purpose to tell you so. We have not known each other very long, but I have learnt to love you as I never thought it possible to love. Have you not seen it?"

"I don't know," she whispered. But the hand that was within his seemed to close around it with a perceptible pressure.

"Listen now, Aletta"; and there was a softened tenderness about the mere sounding of her name that sent a thrill of delight through her whole being. "I am rather a weather-worn hulk, I fear some people might say, for you in your sweet, bright youth to condemn yourself to go through life with. Yet, if you could bring yourself to face that ordeal, I believe we should make each other very happy. Tell me, now, do you think you can bring yourself to face it--to love an old fogey like me?"

Her eyes answered him. They had never left his, and now the love-light that beamed from them was not to be mistaken.

"Yes, Colvin," she said softly. "I think I can. But--don't call yourself names." And with the words she was gathered to him while they exchanged their first kiss. "Can I love you?" she murmured unsteadily, yielding in his embrace. "Can I love you, did you say? Can I help it?

My darling one, you are made to be loved," she uttered, in a very abandonment of pa.s.sionate tenderness. "But I--why should you love me-- you who have seen so much of the world? I am so inexperienced, so ignorant. I am not even decent-looking. How can I ever make you happy?"

"Ignorant? Inexperienced? My Aletta, you would more than hold your own anywhere--perhaps will some day," he added, as though to himself. "Not even decent-looking!" he echoed banteringly, and, holding her from him at arm's length, he affected to scan her up and down. "No. No presence, no grace, supremely awkward--hands like the sails of a fishing-smack."

"There, that will do," laughed the girl, giving him a playful tap with one of the libelled hands, a hand which would have served as a model in a sculpture of Iseult of Brittany. "You are only _beginning_ to sum up my imperfections, and I am frightened already. No, really; I feel hardly inclined for a joke even. I am far, far too happy."

"Kwaa-kwak-kwak! Kwaa-kwak-kwak!"

Both started, then laughed. The old koorhaan, first disturbed across the river bed, was returning, as though some instinct notified him that the fell destroyer was harmless to-day. Right overhead he came, an easy twenty-five yards' shot. Instinctively Colvin reached for the gun, which he had rested against an adjoining bush; but as quickly he recovered himself.

"We'll grant the old squawker an amnesty to-day," he said with a laugh.

"I don't think I could have missed that shot either."

"Kwaa-kwak-kwak! Kwaa-kwak-kwak!" yelled the bird, as, hovering for a moment, it dropped down among the thorns on the very spot whence it had been first roused. Then they talked on, those two, happy in the happiness which cannot often come in a lifetime--happy in the golden sunshine and the glowing summer of their lives--happy amid the rejoicing surroundings of Nature, in their vastness and peace and calm. Yet, away there to the North--what? The gathering cloud, black as night, sweeping down, steadily, surely--whirled along on the spreading demon-wings of war--the cloud which, bursting into lurid thunders, should overwhelm all with its blasting breath in a vortex of hideous hate and red slaughter, and woe and dest.i.tution. No; for the contemplation of this they had no mind.

Suddenly Aletta gave a start, uttering a little cry of consternation.

"There's the dinner-bell, and you haven't even off-saddled. How late we shall be!"

"We shall, rather. But what does it matter? Good Lord, though, how the last hour has flown?"

Was it a suspicion born of the fact that these two shared a momentous secret that made them think Stepha.n.u.s exchanged more than one significant glance with his wife while they sat at dinner? He began to talk about his nephew Adrian. The latter never came near them now. He had changed entirely, and seemed to have run patriotism mad. Moreover, he had taken to a.s.sociating with certain Boers of a particularly low and disreputable type, such as Herma.n.u.s Delport, Gideon Roux, and others.

The while Condaas and Andrina were kicking each other under the table, and Aletta was feeling supremely uncomfortable. Then the worthy Stepha.n.u.s, suddenly becoming aware that he was romping gaily over mined ground, abruptly changed the subject.

But thereafter was surprise in store for him, when Colvin took him aside and imparted the events of the morning. Stepha.n.u.s was delighted, and an additional fact, not at present to be divulged, which the other imparted to him, did not lessen his satisfaction.

"_Maagtig_! Colvin. You are a _slim kerel_," he cried, shaking his son-in-law-elect warmly by the hand. "Why, you have kept it dark between you. Well, I don't know anybody I would rather give my little girl to. Besides, she is almost English in her ways. But, say; it seems a strange thing that you, with ample means to live where you like, should prefer to bury yourself in an out-of-the-way place like this. Of course, for us who are born to it, why it's different. We couldn't get on anywhere else."