Not for a moment was Dainty's determination shaken by the action of
Schwatka. So full of magnetic fire she had never been disciplined to
control; had love been sooner enkindled, she would but sooner have
leaped into its flame, whether it meant warmth or destruction. Many
women of her nature, live and die ignorant of love. Are they more blest
for the ignorance?
Turning to her dressing-case, in which were her diamonds and costly
jewels, she looked at them, and in another moment she replaced the
casket. She rapidly dressed for the journey, and ordered Bela to pack a
small trunk with necessary and sufficient apparel, and take it to the
Cape cart waiting at the door. These things were quickly done by the
silent, swiftly-moving Bushman.
Trembling with excitement she followed the Bushman, and got into the
cart. As they drove away, she gave one backward glance at the home
where she had lived so peacefully with Donald. Nerving herself, she
bade Bela hasten. When they had reached the edge of the town, she
seized the reins, and with a strength born of excitement, urged the
horses on with a frenzy that caused Bela to give his mistress a look of
wonder.
Her thoughts had been too long busy with her work to think of anything
further, until now, with the motion of the revolving wheels, and the
speeding horses, a sense of liberty took possession of her.
She was free! Away over the veldt she flew, the horses seeming to
become imbued with the spirit of their mistress, which gave impulse to
their fast-flying feet. This sense of freedom was a reaction from the
sense of captivity, of late so strongly upon her.
Two hours or more flew by, before she gave a thought to the scenes
through which she was passing. A weary waste of sandy, desert road; a
treeless veldt covered sparsely with a coarse grass; a dreary farmhouse
in the distance surrounded by a few trees, was a joyless picture to look
upon.
Bela sat silent, watching the horses and the flying cart, but immovable
as a statue. When the native becomes attached to his mistress, he
accepts everything from the "Inkosa" whom he regards as a queen.
Dainty's strength was ebbing fast, but with superhuman effort she
rallied all her energies, and, when she saw a horseman in the distance,
called to her aid her most languorous and indifferent manner, reined in
her rapid steeds and handed the reins to Bela. As the man drew near, to
her dismay she recognised Dr Fox, who was returning from his patient.
As he rode up to the cart, an expression of amazement spread over his
face. When he stopped his horse to speak to her, she ordered Bela to
stop, also.
"Good afternoon, Mrs Laure. You have greatly improved since I saw you
this morning. I scarcely thought you well enough to venture so long a
drive. Is it health or pleasure you seek?"
Dainty was as white as the dead are. She trembled before this man's
honest way of asking questions. Her strength, until now fed by
excitement, left her, and her tongue refused to move, though her lips
parted in the effort.
The agony that convulsed her frame was depicted on her face, and she
shook like one with ague. What should she say? The doctor perceived
that here was some awful crisis. He rose to the occasion.
"Do not speak. Try to calm yourself," said he. Dismounting, he took
Bela's place in the cart, and putting his horse in the Bushman's
keeping, told him to follow them to town. He then gathered up the reins
and wheeled the horses homeward. They were no sooner turned, than
Dainty, unable to support herself, dropped her head on the doctor's
shoulder.
"Mrs Laure, I see that you are in distress. I ask you nothing, every
woman in trouble is my sister. That's right, let those wells in your
eyes run dry. It would have done you good if they had run over many
days earlier." To himself the doctor continued:
"We men have a great deal to answer for. Will we never learn to spare
the beautiful butterflies whose lives we so wantonly break? If women
only knew men, as men know each other, there would be more missionary
work done before marriage. In fact home missionaries do not appreciate
their opportunities, for most of us are heathens!"
The doctor slackened the reins, and the horses their pace, as they were
ascending a hill, at the summit of which he saw a cart driven by
Schwatka rapidly approaching. The doctor's grey eyes shot fire, his
mouth set firmly under his brown moustache, and giving the horse a sharp
cut with the whip, he passed Schwatka with a jovial, "How are you?" that
had a ring in it that sounded like "Check!"
Dainty half rose, gave one little heartbroken moan, and sunk back into
the corner of the seat. The doctor drove home as quickly as possible,
and they were soon at the house, which Dainty had but lately left,
expecting never to return. He gently lifted her out of the cart and
carried her into the house. His presence was soothing to her spirit,
and before he left the house she was wrapped in a sound sleep. She
needed rest, for her day was not ended.