"WELCOME HOME!"
I envied Falkner as he parted company with me, for he wanted to go
straight home, and my store was all out of his way in the other
direction. We had returned by the same route as that by which we had
gone, skirting the border and re-crossing by Rorke's Drift; and no
further incident worthy of note had befallen us.
"See here, Falkner," I said, as he would have left me in cool offhand
fashion. "We've made this trip and taken its ups and downs together,
and more than once I've had reason to be glad that you were along. But
if we haven't got on as well as we might during the last part of it,
really I can't see that it is altogether my fault. Nor need we bear
each other any ill-will," and I put out my hand.
He stared, then shook it, but not cordially, mumbling something in a
heavy, sullen sort of way. Then he rode off.
It had been a temptation to accompany him, and he had even suggested it,
but I saw through his ill-concealed relief when I declined. I had
plenty to attend to on first arriving home again, and it struck me that
neglect of one's business was hardly a recommendation in the eyes of
anybody.
Yes, I had plenty to attend to. The waggons had to be off-loaded and
kraals knocked into repair for holding the trade cattle, and a host of
other things. I paid off Mfutela and his son, and sent them back well
contented, and with something over. But Jan Boom, when it came to his
turn, seemed not eager to go.
Then he put things plainly. Would I not keep him? He would like to
remain with me, and I should find him useful. There were the trade
cattle to be looked after, to begin with, and then, there was nothing he
could not turn his hand to. He would not ask for high wages, and was
sure I should find him worth them--yes, well worth them, he added. Had
he not been worth his pay so far?
I admitted readily that this was so, and the while I was wondering why
he should be so anxious to remain? There seemed some meaning underlying
the manner in which he almost begged me to keep him, and this set me
wondering. Going back over our trip I could not but remember that he
had proved an exceedingly willing, handy and good-tempered man, and my
earlier prejudice against him melted away.
"I will keep you then, Jan Boom," I said, after thinking the matter out
for a few minutes.
"_Nkose_! There is only one thing I would ask," he said, "and that is
that you will tell me when three moons are dead whether you regret
having kept me on or not."
I thought the request strange, and laughed as I willingly gave him that
promise. I still held to my theory that he had broken gaol somewhere or
other, and had decided that he had now found a tolerably secure
hiding-place; and if such were so, why from my point of interest that
was all the better, if only that it would keep him on his best
behaviour.
All the morning of the day following on my return I was busy enough, but
by the early afternoon felt justified in starting to pay my first visit
to the Sewins.
As I took my way down the bush path I had plenty of time for thought,
and gave myself up to the pleasures of anticipation. Those last words:
"You will come and see us directly you return. I shall look forward to
it," were ringing in a kind of melody in my mind, as my horse stepped
briskly along. And now, what would my reception be? It must not be
supposed that I had not thought, and thought a great deal, as to the
future during the couple of months our trip had lasted. Hour after hour
under the stars, I had lain awake thinking out everything. If all was
as I hardly dared to hope, I would give up my present knockabout life,
and take a good farm somewhere and settle down. If not--well I hardly
cared to dwell upon that. Of Falkner in the light of any obstacle,
strange to say I thought not at all.
From one point of the path where it rounded a spur the homestead became
momentarily visible. Reining in I strained my eyes upon it, but it
showed no sign of life--no flutter of light dresses about the stoep or
garden. Well, it was early afternoon, hot and glowing. Likely enough
no one would be willingly astir. Then a thought came that filled my
mind with blank--if speculative--dismay. What if the family were away
from home? The stillness about the place now took on a new aspect.
Well, that sort of doubt could soon be set at rest one way or another,
and I gave my horse a touch of the spur that sent him floundering down
the steep and stony path with a snort of surprised indignation.
We had got on to the level now and the ground was soft and sandy. As we
dived down into a dry drift something rushed at us from the other side
with open-mouthed and threatening growl, which however subsided at once
into a delighted whine. It was Arlo--and there on the bank above sat
Arlo's mistress.
She had a drawing block in her hand and a colour box beside her.
Quickly she rose, and I could have sworn I saw a flush of pleasure steal
over the beautiful face. I was off my horse in a twinkling. The tall,
graceful form came easily forward to meet me.
"Welcome home," she said, as our hands clasped. "I am so glad to see
you again. And you have kept your promise indeed. Why we hardly
expected you before to-morrow or the day after."
"It was a great temptation to me to come over with Falkner yesterday," I
answered. "But, a man must not neglect his business."
"Of course not. It is so good of you to have come now."
"Good of me! I seem to remember that you would look forward to it--that
last night I was here," I answered, a bit thrown off my balance by the
manner of her greeting. That "welcome home," and the spontaneous
heartiness of it, well it would be something to think about.
"Well, and that is just what I have been doing," she answered gaily.
"There! Now I hope you feel duly flattered."
"I do indeed," I answered gravely.
"And I am so glad we have met like this," she continued, "because now we
shall be able to have a good long talk. The others are all more or less
asleep, but I didn't feel lazy, so came down here to reduce that row of
stiff euphorbia to paper. I have taken up my drawing again, and there
are delightful little bits for water-colour all round here."
The spot was as secluded and delightful as one could wish. The high
bank and overhanging bushes gave ample shade, and opposite, with the
scarlet blossoms of a Kafir bean for foreground, rose a small cliff, its
brow fringed with the organ pipe stems of a line of euphorbia.
"Lie down, Arlo," she enjoined. "What a fortunate thing it was you were
able to recover him. I don't know how to thank you."
"Of course you don't, because no question of thanking me comes in," I
said. "I would sooner have found him as we did, than make anything at
all out of the trip, believe me."
"And your trip was not a great success after all, Falkner tells us?"
"Oh we did well enough, though I have done better. But to return to
Arlo. The mystery to me--to both of us--was how on earth he ever
managed to let himself be stolen."
"Ah. That dreadful witch doctor must have been at the bottom of it. I
only know that one morning he--Arlo not Ukozi--had disappeared, and no
inquiry of ours could get at the faintest trace of him. His
disappearance, in fact, was as complete as that of that poor Mr
Hensley."
"Old Hensley hasn't turned up again, then?" I said.
"No. Mr Kendrew is getting more and more easy in his mind. He's a
shocking boy, you know, and says he's too honest to pretend to be sorry
if he comes into a fine farm to end his days on," she said, with a
little smile, that somehow seemed to cast something of a damper on the
delight of the present situation.
"Confound Kendrew," I thought to myself. "Who the deuce wants to talk
of Kendrew now?"
"Tell me, Mr Glanton," she went on, after a slight pause. "You got my
letter I know, because Falkner has told us how he got the one mother
wrote him. Did you think me very weak and foolish for allowing myself
to get frightened as I did?"
"You know I did not," I answered, with quite unnecessary vehemence.
"Why I was only too proud and flattered that you should have consulted
me at all. But, of course it was all somewhat mysterious. Is Ukozi
about here now?"
"We haven't seen him for some days. Do you know, I can't help
connecting his non-appearance with your return in some way. He must
have known you would soon be here. Father is quite irritable and angry
about it. He says the witch doctor promised to let him into all sorts
of things. Now he pronounces him an arrant humbug."
"That's the best sign of all," I said, "and I hope he'll continue of
that opinion. When elderly gentlemen take up fads bearing upon the
occult especially, why, it isn't good for them. You don't mind my
saying this?"
"Mind? Of course I don't mind. Why should I have bothered you with my
silly fears and misgivings--at a time too when you had so much else to
think about--if I were to take offence at what you said? And it seems
so safe now that you are near us again."
What was this? Again a sort of shadow seemed to come over our talk.
Was it only on account of some imaginary protection my presence might
afford that she had been so cordially and unfeignedly glad to welcome
me?
"I think you may make your mind quite easy now," I said. "This Ukozi
had some end of his own to serve, possibly that of stealing the dog,
which he knew he could trade for a good price in Zululand, and probably
did. I suppose Falkner gave you a full, true and particular account of
how we bested the precious specimen who claimed him."
She laughed.
"Oh, he's been bragging about that, and all your adventures--or rather
his--up there, in quite his own style."
"Well, there was nothing for either of us to brag about in the way we
recovered Arlo," I said. "If the King's impi hadn't happened along in
the nick of time I own frankly we might never have been able to recover
him at all. It was a hundred to one, you understand."
Again she laughed, significantly, and I read into the laugh the fact
that she did not quite accept Falkner's narratives at precisely
Falkner's own valuation.
"How did Falkner behave himself?" she went on.
"Oh, he was all right. He was always spoiling for a fight and on one
occasion he got it. I daresay he has told you about that."
"Yes," she said, with the same significant laugh. "He gave us a graphic
account of it."
"Well he has plenty of pluck and readiness, and a man might have many a
worse companion in an emergency."
"It's nice of you to say that. I don't believe he was a bit nice to
you."
"Oh, only a boy's sulks," I said airily. "Nothing to bother oneself
about in that."
"But was that all?" she rejoined, lifting her clear eyes to my face.
"Perhaps not," I answered, then something in her glance moved me to add:
"May I tell you then, what it was that caused our differences, who it
was, rather?" And I put forth my hand.
"Yes," she said, taking it. "Tell me."
"It was yourself."
"Myself?"
"Yes. Do you remember what you said that last evening I was here? I
do. I've treasured every word of it since. You said I was to come and
see you directly I returned, and that you would look forward to it."
She nodded, smiling softly.
"Yes. And I have. And--what did you answer?"
"I answered that I would look forward to it every day until it came.
And I have."
"And is the result disappointing?"
"You know it is not."
I have stated elsewhere that I seldom err in my reading of the human
countenance, and now it seemed that all Paradise was opening before my
eyes as I noticed a slight accession of colour to the beautiful face, a
deepening of the tender smile which curved the beautiful lips. Then
words poured forth in a torrent. What was I saying? For the life of me
I could not tell, but one thing was certain. I was saying what I meant.
Then again her hand reached forth to mine, and its pressure, while
maddening me, told that whatever I was saying, it at any rate was not
unacceptable when--
Arlo, who had been lying at our feet, sprang up and growled, then
subsided immediately, wagging his tail and whining as he snuffed in the
direction of the sound of approaching footsteps.
"Hallo, Glanton," sung out a gruff voice. "You taking lessons in high
art? They're wondering where you've got to, Aida. They're going to
have tea."
"Well, tell them not to wait. I'll be in directly when I'm ready."
"Oh no. No hurry about that," answered Falkner with an evil grin,
flinging himself on the ground beside us, and proceeding leisurely to
fill his pipe. "We'll all stroll back together--eh, Glanton?"
I am ashamed to remember how I hated Falkner Sewin at that moment. Had
he heard what I had been saying, or any part of it? But he had thrust
his obnoxious presence between it and the answer, and that sort of
opportunity does not readily recur, and if it does, why the repetition
is apt to fall flat.
He lay there, maliciously watching me--watching us--and the expression
of his face was not benevolent, although he grinned. He noted his
cousin's slight confusion, and delighted to add to it by keeping his
glance fixed meaningly upon her face. Then he would look from the one
to the other of us, and his grin would expand. There was a redeeming
side to his disgust at the situation from his point of view. He was
annoying us both--annoying us thoroughly--and he knew it.
She, for her part, showed no sign of it as she continued her painting
serenely. Further exasperated, Falkner began teasing Arlo, and this had
the effect of wearying Aida of the situation. She got up and announced
her intention of returning to the house.
And Falkner, walking on the other side of her, solaced himself with
making objectionable remarks, in an objectionable tone, knowing well
that the same stopped just short of anything one could by any
possibility take up.