DISILLUSION
Once more it was morning, and the travellers were encamped by that
reedy point where they had left the big boats which they cut loose from
the island. From the earliest dawn Leonard had been superintending the
transport across the river of the hundreds of slaves whom they had
released. They there were put on shore by the Settlement men, provided
with a store of meal, and left to shift for themselves, it being found
utterly impossible to take them any further.
“There, they are gone,” said Otter, as the last boat-load set out under
the charge of Peter. “Well, let them go, the silly sheep. So much the
less trouble for us, who, although we have a Shepherdess, can scarcely
lead so large a flock. Well, we have pulled the Missie yonder out of
the Slave Nest, and the Yellow Devil—ah! we have talked with him and
all his crew. And now are we to go on to win the gold—the real Yellow
Devil, Baas?”
“I suppose so, Otter,” answered Leonard—“that is, if Soa keeps her
word. But it isn’t gold, it is rubies. At any rate we must make for the
Settlement below Sena, to take these men back and see if we can hear
anything of Mavoom.”
“So,” said Otter after a pause. “Well, the Shepherdess, as these
Settlement people call her, will want to find her father. Say, Baas,
she is proud, is she not? She looks over our heads and speaks little.”
“Yes, Otter, she is proud.”
“And she is beautiful; no woman was ever so beautiful.”
“Yes, Otter, she is beautiful.”
“And she is cold, Baas; she does not say ‘thank you’ nicely for all
that you have done.”
“Perhaps she thinks it the more, Otter.”
“Perhaps she thinks it the more. Still, she might say ‘thank you’ to
you, Baas, who are her—husband.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, Baas, that you bought her first, according to our custom, and
married her afterwards according to your own, and if that does not make
her your wife, nothing can.”
“Stop that fool’s talk,” said Leonard angrily, “and never let me hear
you repeat it. It was only a game that we played.”
“As the Baas desires, so be it. I do but speak from my heart when I say
that she is your wife, and some might think that not so ill, for she is
fair and clever. Will the Baas rise and come to the river to bathe,
that his soreness may leave him?”
Leonard took the suggestion, and came back from his bath a new man, for
rest and the cold water had acted on him like magic. He was still
stiff, indeed, and remained lame in one leg for ten days or more, but,
with the exception of an aching of the throat where Xavier had gripped
him, no other ill effects were left. Among the booty of the slave camp
was a good supply of clothing, flannel shirts, corduroy suits, and
hats. Casting aside the rags of the Portuguese uniform in which he had
disguised himself, Leonard put on some of these articles and reappeared
in the camp dressed like an ordinary English colonist, roughly indeed,
but becomingly.
Meanwhile Juanna had also been making her toilet, with the help of Soa,
who took this opportunity to tell her mistress the history of her
meeting with Leonard Outram. But, either from design or because she
forgot to do so, she did not at this time tell her about the agreement
which had been entered into between them. As yet Soa had never spoken
fully to her mistress of her early life or of the mysterious People of
the Mist from whom she sprang, though she had taught her the language
they spoke. Perhaps, for reasons of her own, she did not think this a
favourable occasion on which to begin the story.
When Soa had finished Juanna fell into a reverie. She remembered that
she had expressed no gratitude to Mr. Outram for his heroic rescue of
her. Yet in her heart she was grateful enough. But for him she must now
have been dead, and the world of light and love would have closed its
gates upon her for ever. Still, mixed up with her gratitude and earnest
admiration of the deed of heroism which had been wrought for her sake,
was another feeling, a feeling of resentment and alarm. This stranger,
this dark, keen-eyed, resolute man had bought her as a slave; more, he
had gone through a form of marriage with her that was not all a form,
for it had been solemnly celebrated by a priest, and there on her
finger was the memorial of it. Of course it meant nothing, but the
thought of it angered her and offended her pride.
Like other women, Juanna Rodd had not come to twenty years of age
without dreaming of love, and, strange to say, her fancy had always
chosen some such man as Leonard for the hero of the story. But that the
hero should present himself in this ultra-heroic fashion, that he
should buy her with gold, that he should go through a form of marriage
with her within an hour of their first meeting—for these things she had
not bargained. It was a fact—that marriage was an accomplished fact,
although it might be null and void, and the female mind has a great
respect for accomplished facts. To a woman of Juanna’s somewhat haughty
nature this was very galling. Already she felt it to be so, and as time
went on the chain of its remembrance irked her more and more, a
circumstance which accounts for much of her subsequent conduct.
Thinking such thoughts as these, Juanna strolled back towards the camp
along a little pathway in the reeds, and suddenly came face to face
with Leonard. She was clad in a white Arab robe, part of the loot,
which she had adapted cleverly to the purposes of a dress, fastening it
round her slender waist with an embroidered scarf. She wore no hat, and
her rich dark hair was twisted into a great knot that shone in the
sunlight. In her hand she held some crimson lilies which she had
gathered, that made a spot of colour on the whiteness of her dress. The
look of haunting terror was gone from her face, whose beauty had come
back during her sleep; her changing eyes shone beneath their dark
lashes, and she moved with the grace of a fawn.
Seen thus in that pure and pearly light against the green background of
the feathered reeds, nothing could have seemed more sweet and lovely
than did this girl, this child of the forest and the river, who mingled
in herself the different beauty of the Saxon and the Spaniard, ripened
by the African sun and dignified by the long companionship of Nature.
There was a grace about her movements, a purity in her face, a mystery
in the wide eyes and curved and smiling lips, such as Leonard had never
seen before, and which overcame him utterly. Alas for the fickleness of
the human heart! from that moment the adoration of his youth, the dream
of his lonely years of wandering, Jane Beach, began to grow faint and
fade away. But though this was so, as yet he did not admit it to
himself; indeed, he scarcely knew it.
Juanna looked up and saw him standing before her, proud and handsome,
an air of command upon his thoughtful face, deep-chested, bearded,
vigorous, a man amongst men. She saw the admiration in his eyes and
blushed, knowing that, do what she would to prevent it, it was
reflected in her own. She remembered all that this stranger had done
for her, how he had risked his life a hundred times, how she would now
have been dead and unlovely were it not for his intrepid deeds, and
remembering, something stirred at her heart.
Was it gratitude that moved her thus? She did not know; but whatever it
was, she turned her head that he might not read it on her face. Another
moment, and she was holding out her hand to him and smiling pleasantly.
“Good morning,” she said, “I hope that you have slept well, and that
you have no bad news.”
“I spent eight hours in a state of absolute stupor,” he answered
laughing, “and there is no news at all to speak of, except that I have
got rid of those slaves, poor creatures. I fancy that our friends, the
slave-dealers yonder, have had enough of our company, and are scarcely
likely to follow us.”
Juanna turned a shade paler, and answered:
“I trust so. At least I have had enough of them. By the way, Mr.
Outram, I—I—have to thank you for a great deal;” here her eyes caught
the gleam of the gold circlet on the third finger of her left
hand—“this ring belongs to you, I will return it at once.”
“Miss Rodd,” said Leonard gravely, “we have passed through a very
strange adventure together; will you not keep the ring in remembrance
of it?”
Her strong impulse was to refuse. While she wore this ring the thought
of that hateful scene and still more hateful mockery of marriage would
be always with her. And yet, as the words of prompt refusal were on her
lips, a feeling, an instinct, almost a superstition caused them to
remain unspoken. “You are very kind,” she said, “but this is your
signet-ring—is not that what you call it? You cannot wish to give it to
a chance acquaintance.”
“Yes, it is my signet-ring, and if you will look at the crest and motto
you will see that they are not inappropriate. And I do wish to give it
even ‘to a chance acquaintance,’ Miss Rodd, if you will allow me no
more intimate term.”
“I have looked at them,” she answered, as she examined the ring
curiously. It was of plain and somewhat massive gold, and deeply cut
into the shield-faced bezel was the Outram crest, a hand holding a
drawn sword, beneath which the motto was engraved. “What is the last
word of the motto?” she went on; “it is so rubbed that I cannot read
it—‘For Home, Honour——‘”
“‘And Heart,’” said Leonard.
Juanna blushed, though why the word “heart” should make her blush she
knew not.
“Well, I will wear the ring, if you wish it, Mr. Outram, in memory of
our adventure—that is, until you ask it back again,” she said
confusedly; then added with a change of tone: “There is one detail of
the adventure that I hope you will not allude to more than you can
avoid, for the recollection of it is most painful to me, probably more
so even than to you.”
“I suppose you mean the ceremony of marriage, Miss Rodd.”
“I mean the wicked and abominable farce in which we were made to play a
part,” she answered passionately. “Most of the witnesses of that
shameful scene are dead and cannot speak of it, and if you will keep
your servant the dwarf silent I will do the same by Father Francisco.
Let it be forgotten by both of us.”
“Certainly, Miss Rodd,” said Leonard, “that is, if anything so strange
can be forgotten. And now, will you come to breakfast?”
She bowed her head in assent and swept past him, the red lilies in her
hand.
“I wonder what hold she has over that priest,” thought Leonard to
himself, “that she talked of being able to keep him silent. By the way,
I must find out whether we are to have the pleasure of his company. I
would rather be without him myself. A strange girl! One can account for
her beauty, she inherited that; but it is difficult to understand the
manner. By rights she should be a half-wild hoyden, but I never saw an
English lady with more grace and dignity. Perhaps I have forgotten; it
is so long since I associated with ladies, or perhaps, like beauty,
these are natural to her. After all, her father seems to have been a
gentleman of birth, and people who live with nature may have every
fault in the calendar, but they cannot be vulgar. That is the gift of
civilisation.”
When he reached the camp, Leonard found the priest talking
confidentially to Juanna.
“By the way, Father,” he said somewhat brusquely, “as you see, I have
got rid of those slaves. It was impossible to take them with us, and
now they must shift for themselves: at any rate, they are better off
than they were yonder. What are your plans? You have behaved well to
us, but I cannot forget that we found you in bad company. Perhaps you
wish to return to it, and in that case your way lies eastward,” and he
nodded towards the Nest.
“I do not wonder that you distrust me, senor,” said Francisco, his pale
and girlish face colouring as he spoke, “for appearances are much
against me. But I assure you that although I came into the company of
Antonio Pereira by my own will, it was for no evil purpose. To be
brief, senor, I had a brother who fled hither from Portugal because of
a crime that he had committed, and joined Pereira’s band. With much
toil I tracked him out, and was welcomed at the Nest because I am a
priest who can comfort the sick and shrive the dying, for wickedness
does not console men at the last, senor. I persuaded my brother to
return with me, and we made a plan to escape. But Pereira’s ears were
long: we were betrayed, and my brother was hanged. They did not hang
me, because of my calling. Afterwards I was kept a prisoner and forced
to accompany the band in their expeditions. That is all the story. Now,
with your permission, I will follow you, for I have no money and
nowhere else to go in this wilderness, though I fear that I am not
strong enough to be of much service, and being of another faith you
will scarcely need my ministrations.”
“Very well, Father,” answered Leonard coldly, “but please understand
that we are still surrounded by many dangers, which any treachery might
cause to overwhelm us. Therefore I warn you that should I detect
anything of the sort my answer to it will be a quick one.”
“I do not think that you need suspect the Father, Mr. Outram,” said
Juanna indignantly. “I owe him a great deal: had it not been for his
kindness and counsel, I should not be alive to-day. I am most deeply
grateful to him.”
“If you vouch for him, Miss Rodd, that is enough. You have had the
advantage of a closer acquaintance than I can boast,” Leonard answered
gravely, mentally contrasting the difference of her manner in
acknowledging the priest’s services and his own.
From that hour till a certain conversation opened his eyes, struggle as
he would against it, Leonard disliked Francisco. He had a foolish
British aversion to his class, and Juanna’s marked partiality towards
this particular individual did not lessen it in this instance.
Prejudice is a strong thing, and when it is heightened by suspicion and
jealousy, especially jealousy of the unacknowledged kind, it becomes
formidable, both to him who entertains it and to him against whom it is
entertained.
When their meal was done they proceeded up the river in the boats which
they had captured from the slavers, each boat being rowed by the best
oarsmen among the Settlement men. Including women and children their
party numbered some sixty souls. At evening they passed the island
where they had left the company of slavers, but could see no sign of
life upon it, and never learned whether the men perished or escaped.
An hour later they encamped upon the bank of the river, and it was
while they were sitting round the fire at night that Juanna told
Leonard of the horrors which she had undergone during her dreadful
sojourn with the slave caravan. She told him also how she had torn
leaves from the Bible which she chanced to have with her, and fixed
them upon the reeds whenever she could find an opportunity of so doing,
in the hope that they might guide her father, should he return and
attempt her rescue.
“It is all like a nightmare,” she said; “and as for that hideous farce
of marriage with which it ended, I can scarcely bear to think of it.”
Then Francisco, who had been sitting silent, spoke for the first time.
“You speak, senora,” he said in his subdued voice, “of that ‘hideous
farce of marriage,’ and I suppose you mean the ceremony which I
performed between you and the Senor Outram, being forced to the act by
Pereira. It is my duty to tell you both that, however irregular this
marriage may have been, I do not believe it to be a farce. I believe
that you are lawfully man and wife until death shall part you, unless
indeed the Pope should annul the union, as he alone can do.”
“Nonsense, nonsense,” broke in Leonard; “you forget that there was no
consent; that we are of another religion, and that the form was
necessary to our plot.”
“The Church knows nothing of the reasons which lead to the undertaking
of wedlock,” Francisco answered mildly. “They are various, and many of
them would not bear investigation. But you were married without any
open protest on your part, on Portuguese territory, according to
Portuguese custom, and by a duly qualified priest. The fact that you
are of the Protestant religion, and were united by the Catholic ritual,
does not matter at all. For the purposes of the ceremony you accepted
that ritual, as is customary when a Protestant marries a Catholic. It
is disagreeable for me to have to tell you this, but the truth remains:
I believe that you are man and wife before Heaven and the world.”[1]
[1] The Editor does not hold himself responsible for Father
Francisco’s views on ecclesiastical marriage law.
Here Juanna jumped to her feet, and even in that light Leonard could
see that her breast was heaving and her eyes shone with anger.
“It is intolerable that I should be forced to listen to such
falsehoods,” she said, “and if you ever repeat them in my hearing,
Father Francisco, I will not speak to you again. I utterly repudiate
this marriage. Before the ceremony began, Mr. Outram whispered to me to
go through with the ‘farce,’ and it was a farce. Had I thought
otherwise I should have taken the poison. If there is any foundation
for what the Father says, I have been deceived and entrapped.”
“Pardon, senora,” replied the priest; “but you should not speak so
angrily. The Senor Outram and I only did what we were forced to do.”
“Supposing that Father Francisco is right, which I do not believe,”
said Leonard, with sarcasm, “do you think, Miss Rodd, that such a
sudden undertaking would be more to my liking than to yours? Believe
me, had I wished to ‘deceive and entrap’ you, I could not have done so
without involving myself, since, if the marriage is binding, it is
binding on both parties, and even such a humble individual as I am does
not take a wife on the faith of a five minutes’ acquaintance. To be
frank, I undertook your rescue for purposes far other than those of
matrimony.”
“Might I ask what they were?” replied Juanna, in a tone of equal
acerbity.
“Certainly, Miss Rodd. But first I must explain that I am no
knight-errant. I am an almost penniless adventurer, and for urgent
reasons of my own I seek to win fortune. Therefore, when the woman
yonder,” and he pointed to Soa, who was sitting watching them just out
of range of the firelight, “came to me with a marvellous tale of a
countless treasure of rubies, which she promised to reveal to me if I
would undertake the little matter of your rescue, and when she even
paid down a specimen stone of considerable value on account, having
nothing better to do and nowhere to go, being in short desperate, I
consented. Indeed, I did more, I took the precaution of reducing the
matter to writing, I being one contracting party, and Soa, acting on
her own behalf and as your attorney, being the other.”
“I have not the least idea to what you allude, nor did I ever give Soa
any authority to sign documents on my behalf. But may I see this
writing?”
“Certainly,” Leonard answered; and rising he went to the baggage,
whence he returned presently with a lantern and the prayer-book.
Juanna placed the lantern beside her and opened the book. The first
thing that she saw was a name on the fly-leaf, “Jane Beach,” and
beneath it this inscription, which evidently had been written by some
one in a great hurry: “To dearest Leonard from Jane. 23 Jan.”
“Turn over,” he said hastily; “the document is on the other side.”
She was not slow to note both the writing and the confusion which her
perusal of it caused him. Who was Jane Beach, she wondered, and why did
she call Mr. Outram “dearest Leonard”? In a moment, so strange are the
hearts of women, Juanna felt herself much prepossessed against her,
whoever she might be. But she turned the leaf and read the agreement.
It was a pretty sight to see her bending over the cramped writing in
the circle of the lantern light, but when at length she had finished
and looked up, there was a smile upon her lovely face which had more of
scorn in it than was pleasant.
“Come hither, Soa,” she said, “and tell me what all this nonsense means
about rubies and the People of the Mist.”
“Shepherdess,” answered Soa, squatting down on the ground before her,
“it is not nonsense. The language which I taught you when you were
little is that of this people. It is a true tale, though hitherto I
have hid it from you and your father, Mavoom, lest Mavoom should seek
to win the precious stones and come to his death through them. Listen,
Shepherdess,” and she repeated the outlines of the story with which she
had already made Leonard acquainted, ending thus:
“I told this tale to the White Man because I saw that he was greedy,
after the fashion of his race, and my strait was desperate. For this
reason I bribed him with the red stone, and with the promise that I
would lead him to the land of the People of the Mist, for had I not
done so he would never have used his wit or put out his strength to
rescue you from the Yellow Devil. Therefore it was also that I marked
this paper on your behalf and my own, knowing well that I had no right
to speak for you, and that by and by you could refuse to abide by it,
though I am bound.”
“Frank, at any rate,” said Leonard to himself. “What an attorney the
old lady would have made!”
“Say, Soa,” asked Juanna, “to succeed in the search for these stones is
it necessary that I should act a part among your people?”
“I can see no other way,” she answered. “But what of that? You are
free, and what I promised on your behalf is nothing. Let the White Man
go without his reward, it will save him a long journey.”
“Attorney!” murmured Leonard in admiration; “she ought to be
Attorney-General.”
“_Wow!_ The wicked old cheat!” put in Otter. “If I had my way I would
break her neck, though she is so clever with the big gun.”
Juanna took no notice of these asides. For the moment she remained in
thought, then looked up smiling.
“Really,” she said, “this is a capital legal document. But oh! Mr.
Outram, why did you dispel my illusions? You see, I had been making up
such a romantic story out of this adventure. You were the
knight-errant, and I was the Christian maiden in the hands of the ogre,
and when you heard of it you buckled on your armour and started to the
rescue. And now you bring me down to the nineteenth century with a run.
“It is not knight-errantry, but a commercial transaction: I am in
difficulty, but by playing a certain undefined part you believe that I
shall be able to help you to secure treasure; therefore you agree to
undertake the risk. I am ignorant of what I am to do, for as yet nobody
has explained it to me, but you need have no fear, I shall not
repudiate, as Soa suggests with so much candour. Certainly I shall try
my best to help you in this business, if I can, for you have worked
hard and endangered your life, Mr. Outram, and I am sure that you have
earned your money, or rather the prospect of it. Really it is all very
amusing,” and she laughed merrily.
As for Leonard, he sat before her, mad with secret wrath and burning
with shame. What a fool he had been thus to expose himself to the
shafts of this girl’s tongue—this girl, whose beauty was only equalled
by her malice! He wished that his hand had withered before he wrote
that accursed document. But now the only thing to do was to face it
out.
“I am glad that you see me in my true light at last, Miss Rodd,” he
said. “It simplifies matters. I entered into that agreement because it
seemed to give me a remote chance of attaining my end, which is money.
It does not quite follow, however, that I should not have attempted
your rescue had there been no agreement; but, of course, I cannot
expect you to believe that.”
“I assure you, Mr. Outram, that I am deeply obliged to you for your
caution. It has lifted a great weight from my mind, for if in any way I
can help you to obtain possession of the valuables of this People of
the Mist I shall have paid off an obligation which at present crushes
me.”
“We shall have to start early to-morrow morning, so with your
permission I think that I will be turning in,” said Leonard, springing
up with singular alacrity.
Juanna watched him go with innocent eyes, and as he passed she saw by
the firelight that his face was like a thunderstorm. “I have made him
angry this time,” she thought to herself, “and I am glad of it. What
business had he to rescue _me_ for money? But he is a strange man, and
I don’t think that I quite understand him. I wonder who Jane Beach is.
I suppose that she wants the money. Women generally do, or at least
they did in Durban.”
Then she spoke aloud: “Soa, come here while I undress, and tell me
again all about your meeting with Mr. Outram, and what he said,
forgetting nothing. You have put me to shame, Soa, with your talk, and
I will never forgive you. Tell me also how _I_ can help to win the
treasure of the People of the Mist!”