His air was so different to the reckless, daring manner of men hardened
in crime, and every one felt the force of the words he uttered in his
defence.
"I acknowledge my crimes," he said; "but I have been very unfortunate."
His open countenance when his eyes were raised, for shame and sorrow
usually weighed them down; his slight boyish frame, attenuated by
illness; his air of deep humility--humility without fear--for every
question was answered unhesitatingly and honestly; the gentle way in
which he met the accusations of the chief witness against him, a man who
hoped to purchase his own freedom by the blood of his fellow creature;
and the straightforward manner in which he related his history from the
time he and Lyle had been cast ashore from the _Trafalgar_, taking more
blame to himself in the matter of gunpowder traffic; than he deserved,
were all adjuncts in his favour with the honourable court; but, alas!
there was the damning evidence to prove the life he had lived for the
last six months, and nothing to confirm his assertion that he deprecated
his occupation or position.
Under present circumstances, Gray was not permitted to occupy his little
chamber in the kind missionary's cottage; but Ormsby--no longer the
thoughtless, selfish Ormsby--gave up his hut to the poor young prisoner,
who, patient and resigned, sat within, looking through the open door
upon the distant plains of Kafirland.
He was fettered, and safely guarded by sentries, who would fain have
avoided their sad duty.
Mr Trail sat beside him--the Bible he had been reading was closed upon
his knee--the two were silent now--"thoughts too deep for words" filled
the breasts of both. The missionary's eyes were overflowing with a
sorrow he could not repress, and the tears fell drop by drop upon his
sleeve.--The deserter took no notice of this; he continued to gaze upon
the plains. Between him and the great space beyond was spread the
camp-ground--the troops with glittering arms--the sturdy burghers
scattered in somewhat disorderly fashion--the Fingo warriors dancing
their untiring dance and chanting their war-song. But he noted not this
stir--his interests were no longer of earth--his eyes were lifted above
those vacant green plains to those "aisles of light," beyond which men
have a vague idea that God dwells in heaven.
At the foot of the camp-ground the waters of the two rivers spread east
and west; eastward the stream widened considerably, foaming and tumbling
over gigantic blocks of stone; westward the current was comparatively
smooth and shallow; precipitous banks, intersected with kloofs, formed
the boundary on the opposite side, the cliffs overhanging the eastward
being densely-wooded.
The ground above these cliffs sloped up to a long green ridge, sharply
defined against the clear breezy sky of a Cape autumn day. The young
prisoner's eye swept this ridge with a purposeless look; but the
sentries who watched him, following that look, were surprised to
perceive several men on horseback with one in the midst, whom they soon
discovered to be unarmed and bound upon the saddle he bestrode. This
body of men inclined to the bank leading to the smoother waters of the
river, dipped suddenly into a gorge, and did not reappear till they
ascended the slight declivity at the extremity of the encampment. The
horses, somewhat jaded, flagged in their pace till they came in full
sight of the troops, when the party, some fifty strong, cantered to the
guard-house, demanding to see the commanding officer of the troops, to
whom they desired to deliver up Lee the convict.
Bound in limb, but with the dauntless spirit blazing in his eye, Jasper
was led into the guard-house, and there, surrounded by his captors and
the soldiers, awaited the arrival of the officer who was to receive him.
Colonel Graham was directed to dispose of the contumacious rebel for the
present--no words passed between this officer and the prisoner. The
elder Boer of the party delivered him to British authority, and claimed
the reward, which was to be applied to kindly purposes among the
sufferers by the war; and Lyle was conducted to a cell, rudely but
strongly built, adjoining the guard-house. It contained a bench, a
table, an iron bedstead with a straw pallet, and was but faintly lighted
by a narrow slit high up in the thick stone wall. An iron ring in this
wall showed that, if necessary, the prisoner could be chained to his
desolate abode.
All that could be seen from this narrow chamber was the blue vault of
heaven, with sometimes a bird careering freely in the clear ether.
The door swung heavily behind Jasper Lyle as he entered the cell--we
must leave him there for the present. No one visited him for some
hours--the chained eagle was left to beat its wings against its cage.
It was on the afternoon of this very day that an advance-guard of
cavalry emerged from a glen heading the encampment, and announced that
Sir Adrian Fairfax was at hand; the little knots of officers, dotted
about the ground, canvassing the various reports which had lately
floated about concerning the convict so unexpectedly delivered up to
British authority, dispersed instantly. The bugles gave warning to fall
in, and Sir Adrian, attended by his staff, and followed by a small body
of troops, rode at a sharp pace into the square, where all, save Sir
John Manvers, were in readiness to receive him.
It may be imagined that rumour's busy tongue had not been still as
regarded Jasper Lyle, for it began to be known that Lee was not the real
name of the man who had made himself so notorious beyond the borders of
the colony.
It was first ascertained that this rebel had been in South Africa
before; then, some one remembered having heard of a so-called nephew,
but, in reality, as it was said, a natural son of Sir John Manvers, who
had given him an infinity of trouble, but who had been reported lost off
the Cape of Good Hope; in short, one link after another was furnished to
complete a chain on which to hang something very like the truth.
But the Daveneys were unconscious of the curiosity and interest they
excited. Eleanor as yet knew nothing of what had taken place, and
Marion, although she felt acutely, was consoled by Ormsby's generosity.
Mr Daveney parted these two young people, and led Ormsby away to Mr
Trail's cottage.
There, in the presence of the missionary, the Commissioner proposed to
release the young man from his engagement with his daughter.
"You see the strait we are in," said Daveney; "there is no shutting our
eyes to the fact that my wretched son-in-law must die the death of a
traitor. You must not ally yourself to the sister-in-law of a
malefactor."
"It is my Marion's misfortune, not her fault, that she is so allied,"
replied Ormsby. "I love her, and she loves me, and we will not be
parted."
Mr Daveney's mind felt somewhat lightened of its weight of anxiety on
seeing his old friend Sir Adrian Fairfax. He did not believe, for an
instant, that, by any circumstances, Lyle could be absolved from
punishment; but a vague hope filled his breast that the convict's life
would be spared. Stern and cold and unfeeling as Sir John Manvers had
been in his communications with him, the mild-tempered Daveney
experienced the deepest compassion towards the father of such a son.
But what if he had known that that son was the legitimate first-born of
the baronet?
And how had Sir John received the fatal news that his ill-starred son
Jasper was a fettered prisoner within a few hundred yards of his own
marquee?
On the day after hearing who this Lee really was, he had sent for
Colonel Graham, who stood next in command, and desired that whenever the
convict should be brought into the encampment, Colonel Graham should be
ready to receive him, without reference to the higher authority. He
dreaded lest a panic should seize him on suddenly hearing of Jasper's
unwelcome approach.
Accustomed to his cold manner, his aide-de-camp had, on the convict's
arrival, placed before Sir John the document from Colonel Graham
reporting the outlaw's capture.
"You may go, sir," said Sir John, on receiving this dire intelligence;
and he did not lift the paper, on which he recognised the handwriting,
until the canvas screen dropped between him and the young officer.
He opened it and tried to read it through; the letters swam before his
eyes, they turned blood-red, they blazed like characters of fire, the
paper fell to the ground, and for the first time in his life the strong
man fainted away.
A very few minutes sufficed for the hasty review Sir Adrian took of the
assembled forces, and profiting by Colonel Graham's offer of his
marquee, he retired thither, and sent at once for Mr Daveney.
Frankfort, who, with the General, awaited the Commissioner, wrung the
hand of his friend in silence, and all four entering the tent, where
some refreshment had been hastily spread, Colonel Graham informed Sir
Adrian of the apprehension of the rebel convict.
Frankfort was a stranger to the old colonel, who was fortunately too
much occupied with matters of duty to notice the death-like hue which
suddenly overspread the young man's face. At a signal from Sir Adrian,
Mr Daveney drew Frankfort into the air, but he turned from the sight of
the busy camp. At this moment the Commissioner's attention was
attracted towards a little cavalcade of a couple of wagons drawn by
mules, and attended by a mounted escort of one of the town levies: it
passed the guard-house, and was directed by a soldier to the dwelling of
Mr Trail.
Anon, a messenger hastened across the square, and announced the arrival
of Lady Amabel Fairfax. The messenger was fortunately Ormsby, who knew
by Frankfort's expression of horror and surprise, that he had learned
the tidings of the day. Daveney hurried off; neither of the young men
spoke. They strode on till a thicket shut the camp from their sight,
and, descending a bank, cast themselves on the turf.
"Where is Eleanor?" asked Frankfort.
"Do you see those willows?" said Ormsby, pointing up the little rivulet;
"the tops of them wave just below her window. She has been almost dead,
but is better and more resigned, for she thinks--"
"That he is still dead?" said Frankfort; and, in the bitterness of his
heart, he added, "Would to Heaven he were!" The next moment he prayed
God to forgive him, and, burying his face in his hands, groaned aloud.
"She believes," replied Ormsby, "that he has again escaped."
"Lady Amabel arrived!" exclaimed Sir Adrian, in great surprise, as Mr
Trail entered Colonel Graham's tent with the information.
"Arrived--impossible! have you seen her?"
"I have, sir."
"Now, then, thank Heaven," said Sir Adrian! "had I known yesterday that
my wife was travelling, I should have been less able for the work I had
before me. Mr Trail, it may be well to inform you that, in spite of
this calm, which apparently pervades the whole of Kafirland, the Gaika
warriors are assembling in the mountains, and my trusty Fingoes have
warned me that they are meditating an attack on the camp. I have long
had the idea that Sir John Manvers was not so prepared for mischief as
myself and I hastened hither; but I have distributed my forces I hope
advantageously; and although we may not keep the enemy out altogether,
we may check his advance, and meet it with caution. It is time that I
conferred with Sir John: it is strange that I should have received no
message from him."
The three gentlemen left the marquee. Colonel Graham bent his way to
the tents of his regiment; the other two directed their steps to the
canvas pavilion. A military surgeon met them at the door--dismay was
painted on his face.
General Manvers lay as dead upon his camp bedstead--his jaw dropped, his
cheek sunken, his eyes glaring and fixed. He had been found in this
state by his servant. The document relative to Lyle was crushed between
his fingers.
While Sir Adrian stood beside this rigid object of despair, the eyelids
quivered, a faint sigh stole from the blue parted lips, and some low
words were breathed, not uttered, but Sir Adrian distinguished them.
"My son! my son!--my first-born! Save my miserable son Jasper!"
The sudden surprise of seeing Sir Adrian Fairfax caused the unfortunate
man to start up; he was bewildered--looked first at one, and then at the
other, of the two kind men who leaned over him. The surgeon was utterly
in the dark as to the cause of this sudden seizure.
Greatly disturbed at what he saw, deeply anxious about his wife, and
keenly alive to the responsibilities of his command, Sir Adrian was
anxious to withdraw, but Sir John held him firmly by the hand.
"Fairfax," said the latter, "I _must_ speak with you alone."
The interview lasted but a few minutes. Dr E--, who had only retired
to a tent close at hand, was speedily summoned again. "I am obliged,
you see, Dr E--," said Sir Adrian, "to leave this unfortunate
gentleman. I fear he will disclose to you much of a history which it
will shock you to hear, but I leave him, I know, in honourable hands,
and his valet is faithful. The sentries had better be removed beyond
ear-shot of the marquee. You are aware that there are symptoms of a
warlike nature among the Gaikas in those hills; but, come what may, you
must not leave Sir John. Delirium, I have little doubt, will supervene,
for he is fearfully excited, and, alas! there is no earthly comfort for
him. In a word, the convict who has been brought within our lines
to-day is his son."
The good surgeon stood confounded. Low moans struck on his ear--then a
bitter cry; he had only time to send for the valet and a trusty sergeant
before the patient was wild with delirium.
Miserable man! we must leave him; his pride is humbled to the dust--he
weeps aloud, and implore his servant to intercede, to pray for his son,
his first-born son.
Sir Adrian Fairfax did not seek his wife till he had made a minute
inspection of the defences of the camp. He entered the guard-house. A
thrill of anguish pierced his very soul at sight of the heavily-barred
door of the convict's cell. All was still within.
The day was more than half spent ere the general had time to greet the
Lady Amabel. Mr Trail's cottage was appropriated to her use, but the
kind and gracious woman had found her way to Eleanor's little
white-washed room. Still equipped in her riding-dress, she reclined on
cushions spread upon the floor.
She looked like some fair lily, beaten by the storm. Her riding-hat was
laid aside, and her hair, still beautiful, hung disordered about her
face, which had lost in loveliness of outline, but had preserved all its
grace and sweetness of expression.
She silenced her husband's tender reproof at having undertaken such a
journey without his knowledge or permission. "Permission, dear love!"
said she; "I did not ask for what I knew you would not grant, and it has
been my great pleasure to surprise you in this beautiful desert.
Besides," she added, with a grave face, "truth to tell, I hastened my
journey in consequence of news gathered by the way by my trusty Klaas,
the Hottentot.
"Preferring my travelling accommodation to the discomforts of the little
village inn at B--, where we halted last night, thirty miles from this,
I sent Klaas to the mission station, for Mr M--, who I knew would give
my people milk and vegetables; but Klaas, hearing on his way that Mr
M--was absent, descended towards a Kafir Kraal in the valley. You know
how cautious he is--he never trusts a Kafir in time of peace, so he
crawled on his hands and knees to a bush crowning a height, where he
stopped to reconnoitre. He was horror-stricken, when, on looking down
upon the location, he saw two murdered Englishmen lying among the stones
and thorn-bushes, and, at a little distance from them, sat a council of
Kafirs. He waited till it grew dusk, and then crept down to listen to
their conversation. He brought me back the fearful intelligence, that
all the Kafir servants in the colony are to be mustered this day, by the
Gaika warriors, in the mountains.--Ah! I see," exclaimed Lady Amabel,
looking from her husband to the Commissioner, "that this is no news to
you. Gracious Heaven! is it possible that these fearful savages are
likely to come down upon us? Oh! Adrian, Adrian! I am glad I have
come."
"There spoke the true soldier's wife," said the General; "but I trust we
are too well prepared, for the enemy to approach our lines; they may
harass us in many ways. They have already, I understand, swept off our
cattle from the hills."
But all day long the wary foe, from his mountain fastnesses, watched the
proceedings in the British camp. All idea of attacking it was given up
for the present, and, at the close of day, several Kafirs, graceful,
gentle, dignified, and smiling, came to offer milk and corn and wood for
sale.
Lady Amabel, who had never seen these wild beings before, looked from
the garden at the dusky groups mingling with the soldiery, and could
scarcely be persuaded that these were the people meditating a fiery
onset with the burning brand and the gleaming assegai upon the camp they
entered like messengers of peace.
Men and women, however, were armed with the weapons used by their race
of old.
Despite this fair seeming on the part of the Gaika Kafirs, every
preparation was made for their reception in hostile array. All day long
scouts had been seen skimming along the ridges; much of the cattle
belonging to the burgher camps had been carried off, and here and there
glimmered a telegraphic fire.
No member of Mr Daveney's household retired to rest: the night was
spent much as I have described one on a similar occasion at Annerley.
Still there was a certain feeling of security in being surrounded by a
large, well-disciplined garrison, _well prepared_.
Wearied with her journey, and attired in a loose morning robe; Lady
Amabel reclined on a camp chair; Eleanor was seated on the cushions at
her feet, and both had dropped into an uneasy slumber, when they were
awakened by the echoes of the morning gun.
No sign of scouts upon the ridges, no smoke from dying signal-fires; all
was still, calm, and peaceful in the outer world. The heavens shone
serene and clear, the sun careered in brightness along the hills, and
the busy camp was soon astir.
And so passed another day. Kafir men and women and children again came
among the soldiery, bartering and chattering and laughing; you would,
indeed, have thought they were the "pastoral and peaceful race"
described by some deluded men.
The door of Gray's hut was closed that day, and none saw him but Mr
Trail.
Midnight went by; the camp was hushed in deep repose, though the ear at
intervals was startled by the challenge of a sentry, or the rattle of
muskets, as the officers on duty went their rounds, and, fatigued with
the excitement and harass of the previous hours, most of the community,
except the watchful sentinels, were hushed in sleep. Even Sir John
Manvers's delirium had yielded to the anodynes administered, and he lay
stupified and still, watched by Dr E--and his servant.
But Eleanor, who had longed to be alone, and who was too wretched to
fear for herself, sat with the Book of Consolation before her, in her
little chamber. The sofa-bed was undisturbed, her light burnt low, and
she had just unfastened her hair to bind it up again ere she lay down to
rest, when the flame of her candle flickered in a sudden current of air.
In the room were two tiny windows, scarcely two feet square, at right
angles with each other. That to the east was uncurtained and was
lighted by the coming dawn; she looked up at the one opposite to her; it
was open, and a face filled it as a picture would fill a frame.
It was the face of her husband--and the large full eyes were fixed upon
her in a fashion that riveted her own as though attracted by a
rattle-snake. They had not met since that fearful night when, with
throbbing heart and bleeding feet, Eleanor had rushed from her home to
the sanctuary of the mission station.
Each looked in silence at the other. Only a minute passed away, there
was a low growl from the hound Marmion, a foot pressed the ground below
the eastern window, and the dread presence vanished.
She heard the willow boughs breaking, Ormsby's dog barked furiously,
hurried footsteps again passed her window, and before she had strength
to rise, Fitje with Ellen in her arms crept quietly into the room.
Voices sounded through the cottage, in the garden,--the dog's angry bark
retreated up the ravine, the whole camp was roused, and the cry went
along the lines--"The prisoner has escaped."
With his usual tact and presence of mind, though death stared him in the
face, Jasper Lyle had contrived to conciliate the young sergeant on
guard so far, that the latter did not turn a deaf ear to the man who,
though he knew him to be a rebel, he believed to be brave and
adventurous. Lyle asked but few questions, and these in a careless way.
He ascertained that Sir John Manvers was "like to die, he was so ill;"
that Sir Adrian was in command, and that the family of the Commissioner,
Mr Daveney, was living in a cottage within five hundred yards of the
guard-house.
Sir John Manvers ill--delirious! Had the blow told? Sir Adrian in
command! He was the last man to punish by death, if it was possible to
avoid such an extremity. Life might be spared, but there would be no
more freedom for Jasper Lyle. Gray convicted--condemned!--how, then,
could he expect favour? Something like a spasm of remorse touched his
heart as he thought of the young deserter. His wife!--was she so near?
There are moments in the lives of evil men over which good angels hold
their sway. Gray and Eleanor!--were they not his victims? He would
fain have said a good word for one,--a strange desire arose to see the
other.
He had not been an hour in his prison ere his quick eye had descried a
possible means of escape.
The walls were of stone, the roof of shingles, the loop-hole a mere
narrow slit high up in the wall. Lyle drew his bedstead near it, he
stood up and looked out; he could see the southern plains and part of
the encampment, he could hear the reliefs passing too and fro; he
listened and distinguished the parole, "Albany." He rubbed his hands
with glee, he examined the loop-hole, and discovered that no
coping-stone supported the roof. A bar of iron from his bedstead would
remove the shingle overhanging the loop.
He sat down upon the bedstead in a desponding attitude. When the
sergeant entered with the afternoon meal, the prisoner was weeping.
Fortune favoured Lyle. The sun set in heavy clouds, torrents of rain
began to fall, the sentry who paced below the loop-hole retired to his
box in the angle of the building, the thunder roared, the lightning
flashed, and the convict worked amid the din of the elements. Every now
and then he listened at the door; in the pauses of the storm he could
hear the sleepers in the guardroom breathing hard; he went to work
again, the roof had rotted from the effects of the rainy season, it gave
way, and Lyle raised his head through the aperture.
In another instant he had slid down the wall, and was on the turf.
The sentry was within a few paces of him, but the wind, coming from an
opposite direction, blew the blinding rain in the soldier's face. He
was wide awake, though, and, on finding something was astir not far off,
uttered the usual query, "Who goes there?" The steady reply of
"Friend," and the countersign "Albany," were sufficient; the sentry
imagined it was some officer passing from one tent to another; the
convict plunged below the bank in rear of the guardroom, which was on a
line with the Daveneys' cottage; and, scrambling on till he came to the
group of willows, sprang into the garden, and saw before him a window.
A light shone through the muslin curtain.
It readily yielded to his touch; he looked in--his pale,
sorrowful-looking wife was before him.
What a contrast with the turmoils through which he had passed, with the
wild uncertainty which made his bosom throb, was the sight of this
grave, sad, innocent woman, alone in the stillness of dawn, with her
Bible beside her!
It was so totally unlike what he had experienced since he had first
known her, that he was softened, though confounded, at the sight. He
wanted words; he felt as if he could have said something kind, but did
not know how.
Ah! the scorched and fiery ground of the sinful man's mind hath no
resting-place for the angel's foot. The good spirit halted on the
threshold; nevertheless, Jasper wore a look unusual to him, and when it
had passed away, it haunted Eleanor like a vision. Her memory of it was
touched with something like compassion, and it was well that it was so.