Mr Daveney pointed out many a covert, whence, he said, probably some dark spirits were looking down on them, but unwilling to show themselves on the open plains. They soon sighted the vley; but it was necessary to be cautious in approaching it, in consequence of the dense bush with which it was partially bordered.

The keen-eyed old Hottentot gave it as his opinion, that no body of Kafirs was concealed within, as the birds were swaying in the branches of the taller trees, and the ground showed no sign of fresh _spoor_ (track, footmarks). From the spot at which the party halted, only a portion of the vley was visible, and Mr Daveney was beginning to consider at which point they were to commence their reconnoitring operations, when Ormsby's bloodhound dashed into the copse, and came back whining and importunate.

Both gentlemen dismounted, gave their horses to the Fingoes, and, despite the caution of the Hottentot, followed the beast into the bush, their arms ready. Klaas, seeing this, entered it with them; the dog leaped in, and the three creeping after him on hands and knees, Mr Daveney put aside a bough, and within a yard discovered Piet lying on his face--dead.

They turned him over; he had been stabbed in the chest by an a.s.segai, and had doubtless crawled into the thicket to die, for a b.l.o.o.d.y track crimsoned the green leaves beyond him.

But where were May and Fitje and the child? Klaas scrambled through the copse as fast as he could, and the others, shocked at the sight, drew back instinctively.

On emerging from the bush, they found one Fingo with their horses, who informed them that his comrade had discovered the wagon, or rather the remains of it, for it had been set fire to. On reaching the side of the vley where the shattered vehicle lay, they were all greatly relieved at hearing May's voice issuing, apparently, from the depths of the earth, and next his head appeared above ground, then Fitje's, and, at last, the impish, roguish, yellow countenance of the child.

Kafirs had been concealed in the bush beside the vley the preceding night. Piet owed his death to his obstinacy. Jealous of May's authority, he had dawdled behind in spite of Fitje's entreaties to keep close to the other wagons; the more anxious she became, the more dogged was he; and, laying the long whip across the roof of the wagon, he folded his arms, and left the oxen to crawl as they liked along the pathless waste. Fitje resigned herself to circ.u.mstances with true Hottentot philosophy, and, tying down her _douk_, wrapped her patchwork petticoat over her child, and lay down within the vehicle to sleep. All at once she heard a groan; something rolled off the box and obstructed the fore-wheel, she looked out into the waste, and three dark figures gibbered at her in the mist. She thought she was dreaming, but she soon _felt_ she was not; a strong arm dragged her out, and flung her on the ground, and she saw her child lifted up, about to be impaled most likely, when one of the men, whom she discovered to be Kafirs, flung it from him, remarking, "it was a girl, and not worth killing."

Poor Fitje s.n.a.t.c.hed it up, and remembering that, while outspanning at the vley, May had indicated a certain spot as a pit-fall for wild beasts, she crawled thither with all speed, while the savages were intent on rifling the wagon. She crept into the welcome covert--there was the skeleton of a wolf in the pit; but "misery makes us acquainted with strange bedfellows," and so poor Fitje thought little of her ghastly neighbour, but lay in dread of being dragged out, stifling poor Ellen's screams as well as she could, till the glad sound of Spry's shrill bark told her help was near.

She sat up, listened in agony, lest the enemy should still be lurking about; the wagon was yet burning, and her fears increased as she remembered that one of the packages especially commended to her care was a case of gunpowder. Careful May, however, always in doubt or dudgeon about Piet the obstinate, had that very morning removed it to safer keeping; but for this precaution, it would have fallen into the hands of the enemy, or, by exploding, destroyed the lives of all near it.

She took heart on hearing May's low whistle near her, for he soon guessed the hiding-place of his keen-witted _vrouw_, and, descending beside her, set her fears at rest.

The ladies of the household were standing at the gateway, watching for the return of the party with no little anxiety. The distance was short, the plains open, and commanded by a mound behind the settlement, on which a vidette had been placed; but still, after the shock their nerves had sustained the night before, they trembled for the safety of the reconnoitring party as soon as it was out of sight. No reason will subdue a woman's fears for others, and Captain Ledyard talked in vain.

They listened anxiously for shots, and felt certain the vidette could not reach Mr Daveney's people in time, if attacked, never thinking of their own critical position in such a case. Marion--bright-eyed Marion--saw them first. "Safe, mother, safe; and there is a little creature on foot with the Fingoes, and a woman, and--" she gazed intently on the coming hors.e.m.e.n, whose pace was slackened for poor Fitje's sake--"oh, mother! Eleanor! some one is leading a horse, and--"

she clasped her hands together in a convulsion of terror--"something is slung across it--a human creature--a man--he must be dead!"

Captain Ledyard shaded his eyes from the sun, and said nothing; Mrs Daveney stood tranquil, but with lips white and quivering; Eleanor opened the gateway, and stepped out to have a clearer view across the plains.

"I see my father," said she, "in advance--I know the horse's pace."

"Thank G.o.d!" exclaimed Mrs Daveney; Marion burst into an hysterical fit of weeping upon Eleanor's bosom; and, this great terror removed from their overcharged hearts, there was s.p.a.ce for more rational thoughts.

"It may be the unhappy driver Piet," said Eleanor, and as she looked again, she recognised Frankfort with her father. He took a handkerchief from his breast, and waved it. It was a good sign, she felt, and as soon as the pedestrians were within safe range of the settlement--for they had to pa.s.s the mouth of the kloof--Daveney and his guests galloped forward. Eleanor's conjecture, as the reader guesses, was right. The old Hottentot had laid the body of the murdered man across his horse, and brought it to the settlement.

Frankfort was still in some doubt as to the fate of one of the foreloupers, but May had a notion "the little _bavian_ (monkey) had escaped;" and, on taking the horses to their stables, sure enough there was the imp, leaning idly and unconcernedly against a gate, with a hunch of bread in his hand, and a broad grin on his black shining face.

At sunset, the herdsmen having dug a grave, May and Griqua Adam buried the miserable old Piet, and piled some stones above him, to save his remains from the wolves; but when the farm-servants ventured out next morning, they found the grave had been rifled, and, by chance, casting their eyes, in the course of the day, on a jutting krantz, lit by the sun, they discovered the wretched creature's body impaled on a scathed oak, round which the asphogels were sweeping, eager for their hateful meal.

In a day or two, some of the farmers of the district arrived, bringing with them their families, and proposing to establish a bivouac on the plains. This Mr Daveney at once acceded to; but, deprecating the system of leaving the homesteads as lurking-places for the enemy, he laid his own plans of defence before the colonists, who, satisfied that their women and children would be under safe guardianship with the little force the magistrate could organise, consented to return to the princ.i.p.al farms, and garrison them at once. "Hurrah!" cried a st.u.r.dy young settler, with a complexion bronzed from its original English hue to the swarthy colour of the Hottentot; "I said we ought to make a stand for the credit of Old England. I never saw the mother-country, as you call her, but I have a respect for her, and I take it, the crack of a few Brummagem rifles will stop the mouths of these yelling devils long before she takes the trouble to send us soldiers. Well, I suppose she intends it for a compliment, and thinks we are able to take care of ourselves; and so we are." He stooped from his saddle to receive a parting token from a pretty creature, who had been making her toilette, after the trek, in a c.u.mbrous but cozy old wagon, and who, though sunburnt, looked as fresh as any girl on a fair-day in England. There were tears gathering in her eyes, but she brushed them away, and bidding "G.o.d speed him," with an attempt at a smile, dropped the curtains of the vehicle, as he galloped in hot haste after his companions, far in front, with Mr Daveney at their head.

For Frankfort, well instructed by his host, and tolerably experienced in the warlike character of the enemy he had to guard against, was left in command of the settlement for the present; in a week Daveney's magisterial duties in the district would terminate, and he would return with safe escort.

These had scarcely departed, ere the good missionary, Mr Trail, arrived with his wife and children, and begged for room to outspan; but Mr Daveney's dwelling was of India-rubber quality, for a room was offered to the Trails, and they accepted it; but, occupying the wagon by night, this apartment was appropriated by Mr Trail for school purposes; and the night after the magistrate's departure, as Frankfort and Ormsby were returning from their superintendence of the outworks, they were taken by surprise at the sound of the Evening Hymn chanted in good harmony by some thirty voices.

Frankfort instinctively lifted his hat from his head; Ormsby remained covered; there was silence, then the door opened, and a motley a.s.semblage walked forth decorously: there was the broad-chested, square-faced Dutch vrouw, and her children, st.u.r.dy as herself; the Hottentot and Bechuana serving-girls, in flaunting _douks_; two or three Kafir children, who said their fathers were in the bush; some Englishwomen, wives of the district farmers, and their children, blue-eyed and fair-haired, like their Saxon ancestors. Then came Eleanor, Marion, and Mrs Trail; and lastly Mr Trail, with two little bright-faced creatures hanging at his skirts. No, not lastly, for May and Fitje, and their merry-eyed infant, brought up the rear.

As the ladies stepped into the trellised pa.s.sage, Ormsby raised his hat and bowed--Frankfort said nothing; but he thought how one-half the world did homage to the creature, forgetting the Creator. Ormsby followed Marion into the house. Frankfort waited to address Mr Trail, with whose reputation he was well acquainted; but he was prevented in his purpose by hearing Eleanor say to the missionary, "You will come to me, then, in five minutes. I have much to tell you. You can scarcely feel sorrow; but you will certainly be shocked."

She stopped suddenly, seeing Frankfort standing at her side; a glow, like sunset upon snow, mantled on her marble cheek, her eyes fell to the ground, and her embarra.s.sment was only relieved by the sound of Mrs Daveney's voice calling to her to come and a.s.sist in some household concerns.

Mr Trail apparently did not notice what I have related; he gave his attention at once to Frankfort, who was desirous of having all the defences completed before the host's return.

It was no easy matter to enclose hastily a number of scattered outbuildings, occupying nearly two acres of ground. The wagons formed a capital breastwork for the front of the dwelling, already tolerably secure; the orchard and garden-ground flanking the rear were surrounded by hedgework of the p.r.i.c.kly mimosa, forming a kind of abati [Note 1], in which picked men were to be placed as checks on the enemy's advance; the stables, cattle, and sheep kraals, separated from the dwelling by a miniature vineyard, were as yet scarcely defensible--the stone wall, as I have before related, being stopped in its progress for want of hands.

But now a redoubt was in speedy progress, the entrances being protected at night by piles of thorn-bushes; and the vineyard having in peaceful days been irrigated by a mountain rill, there was abundance of water; there was a chance of the supply being cut off by the cunning foe, but tanks and barrels were to be filled, which Mr Trail doubted not would last as long as water was required; for the plan of the defence was so admirable, that it was scarcely probable the Kafirs would make an open a.s.sault; still the cattle were a great temptation, and foraging parties were daily bringing in fresh captures.

"But," said Mr Trail, pulling out his watch, "I must leave you now, sir, and at nine o'clock I propose a.s.sembling the family, and closing the day with thanksgiving to the Almighty for the mercies with which He surrounds us. We shall meet again then, I trust;" and leaving Frankfort in the vineyard, the missionary returned to the house.

What could this interview between Eleanor and Mr Trail mean? "Pshaw,"

thought Frankfort, "what is it to me?" and then the mantling cheek, the quivering lip, the trembling hand, on which he had discovered the mystic ring guarded by a circlet--a gilded snake--came between him and his reason, and he paced the green retreat, regardless of the fading day, till the moon rose high and clear, and the path was traced with the graceful pattern of the vine foliage.

Something glittered in the path, he picked it up; the moonlit atmosphere of South Africa is so brilliant that the smallest handwriting is legible; but what he lifted was a miniature of a lovely child. There was nothing but the head, bending, as it were, from orient clouds; the face was angelic, the lips rosy and smiling, the waving hair like threads of gold in sunlight, the eyes with the pencilled brow unmistakable. Was it a brother, sister, or child of Eleanor? He looked at the back, and on an enamel ground was inscribed: "My Harry, born April 18--died March 18--."

"Eheu! Eheu! Eheu!"

He put it carefully up. The bell, hanging in a large mulberry-tree, under which the household a.s.sembled on Sundays to worship that G.o.d whose presence lights the desert, was now struck by Griqua Adam, on returning through the vineyard, reminded "the Sir," that "prayer-time was come;"

and Frankfort, re-entering the trellised pa.s.sage, joined the family and household servants on their way to what Ormsby already nicknamed the conventicle, where Mr Trail awaited them with the Bible open at the thirty-seventh Psalm.

Frankfort was quite accustomed to hear men like Mr Trail called "swaddlers," "humbugs," nay, terms were applied to them such as no woman's pen can record; but though he felt what sorry representatives of their societies some of these teachers of G.o.d's solemn will had been, he was not one to censure the ma.s.s for the misdoings of the few; and therefore, soldier though he was, his heart was moved as he looked on the reader's calm, benevolent face, and heard him proclaim, in mild but fervent tones, that "the meek-spirited shall possess the earth;" and even Ormsby's eye glowed with something of enthusiasm as the missionary lifted up his voice at the closing verse, "And the Lord shall help them, and deliver them; he shall deliver them from the wicked, and save them, because they put their trust in him."

Frankfort could not help glancing towards Eleanor. She seemed unconscious of any one's presence: verily, if by nature she was intended for loftier purposes, some deep sorrow had stricken her, and she was of a surety belonging to the "meek-spirited of the earth." Large tears were stealing slowly and silently down that young and faded face, and fell in diamond drops unheeded on her sable garb; there were others weeping in that place of prayer besides herself but these sorrowed not without hope. If she had hope, it was evidently not of this earth; and Frankfort was more convinced of this every hour he pa.s.sed in her presence, a presence felt more than he liked to acknowledge to himself, for she had evidently not a thought to bestow on him.

Her mother's eyes were fixed upon her; Mrs Daveney was seated beside the reader, Eleanor in a corner where there fell but little light.

Still the watchful gaze seemed to pierce the mourner's very soul, and Frankfort, a keen observer of countenance, read in that mother's eye anxiety, tenderness, yet something of reproach.

"Let us join in prayer," said the teacher, and, for the first time since he had left England, Ormsby found himself kneeling in a home congregation.

He could not follow the teacher,--he was back again in the old dim library, a little boy, at his mother's side, with his hand clasped in hers. Perhaps at this very hour [there is little variation of time between Europe and South Africa] they were all a.s.sembled there,--master, mistress, children, servants on whose heads Time had shed his snow, even where they had then stood,--while the soldier son was wandering in distant countries.

But Frankfort forgot even Eleanor as he listened to the eloquent voice of Mr Trail. The prayer opened with that fine verse from the ninth Psalm, "Arise, O Lord, let not man prevail; let the heathen be judged in thy right. Put them in fear, O Lord, that the nations may know themselves to be but men;" and at the close of it he added, "And it is for you too, my friends, to know yourselves to be but men. It is the arm of the Lord that shall prevail, and not an arm of flesh. We know, O G.o.d, that thou wilt help us; but in His name who commands us to love our enemies, to do good to them that despitefully entreat us, we beseech thee to remove these blinded heathen from the blackness and the darkness with which it has pleased thee to surround them. We know that they would have our blood poured out like water, but do thou of thy mercy teach us to subdue our hearts, as well as our enemies, and in the spirit that bids us turn our cheek to the smiter, teach us charity to our benighted brethren. Would, O Lord, that it might please thee to quench the burning brand, and bury the war-spear in the earth for ever; but if such be not thy will, go forth with our armies, Lord; make them strong in faith, that in the name of the Lord they may do valiantly. We know that thy cause must prevail; that the banner of the Cross, though it be dyed in blood, must be planted wheresoever thy gospel shall be carried.

Help us then in this fierce strife, this mortal conflict for G.o.d and for the right; and, even as thou wert a cloud by day and a fire by night to the Israelites of old, be with us in this wilderness. Once more, O Lord, once more, have mercy on our foes, and teach us from the depths of our hearts to say in the words of Him who died that we might live, Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

It was the sentiment, the tone, the fervency, and the simplicity, which gave eloquence to this appeal, and Frankfort loved to join in the hymn that closed the service, all standing; but, alas! habit has more to do with human nature than the theory of right. The solemn song rose from lips accustomed to the holy duty, and if Ormsby had little heed of what was pa.s.sing, his friend at least felt that there were things to be searched for and known, whereof his philosophy had not yet dreamt,-- those mysteries of good and evil which all the metaphysics in the world can never penetrate, if the true light be wanting on the path that leads to them.

The blessing was invoked, the little congregation rose, and Frankfort's thoughts were earthwards again as he remembered the miniature.

There was no doubt in his mind to whom it belonged. But to whom should he restore it? He was following Mrs Daveney into the sitting-room, intending to place it in her hands, when Mr Trail drew him back.

"A little accident has happened," said the missionary; "one of my wagon-boxes broke in the hurry of our rough journey, and in transferring the contents through the vineyard to the house--"

Frankfort drew the miniature forth, and said, "Is this your property?"

"It is one of the articles I have missed," replied Mr Trail; "I am truly glad it is found." As he spoke, Eleanor approached, and seeing the miniature handed from one gentleman to the other, looked eagerly in the missionary's face, as though inquiring the meaning of what was pa.s.sing. Mr Trail drew her arm through his, and led her away, leaving Frankfort mystified.

He had been told this fair, melancholy creature was a widow. It was clear she had been a mother, and she was now probably mourning the recent death of her child; but why were these, apparently, secret or forbidden themes?

Then he reasoned as usual,--what was it to him? He was a stranger,--and yet he could not be considered entirely such under present circ.u.mstances, and how much, too, Mr Daveney had intrusted to him!

He waited for some minutes, hoping Mr Trail would return, and accompany him in his night rounds. He stepped into the verandah: the plains were bathed in moonlight. The inmates of the wagons were retiring to their rest; only here and there a light glimmered, or the feeble voice of an infant and some mother's murmured lullaby wailed through the stillness of the night; but Mr Trail and Eleanor were pacing the stoep in such earnest conversation, that they did not perceive Frankfort, who withdrew to his nightly duty.

The cattle had been secured by Griqua Adam, the gates were closed, the sentinels posted, and the outworks were nearly completed. Mr Daveney was expected home on the morrow.