Stephanus Van Der Walt had entered the door of his prison with the firm
conviction that his God--the just and mighty God of the Psalms that he
knew so well--had laid this burthen upon him for his great
transgressions. In the light of his changed heart all the provocation
which Gideon had given him seemed to melt away like snowflakes in the
sunshine, whilst his own contributions to the long-drawn-out quarrel
waxed larger and blacker the more he looked at them.
The exaltation of spirit which buoyed him up when he received his
sentence had never flagged. He gloried in his sufferings. His only
prayer was that God might not visit his crimes upon his innocent
children,--that Elsie, his little blind child, might have the shield of
divine protection extended over her helplessness--that Marta, the wife
whom he had neglected, and Sara, his elder daughter who stood on the
threshold of womanhood, might find the wind of adversity tempered to
their need.
When he heard of Marta's death he bent his head anew in bitter
self-reproach. He felt he had left the weak woman whom he had vowed to
cherish alone and unprotected,--disgraced and sorrowful. Up till now he
had been happy--happier than he had felt for years, for his heart was no
longer the home of torturing hate. He felt that this later misfortune
was sent to chasten him,--a thing which his imprisonment had failed to
do. He took his wife's death as a sign of the wrath of the Almighty,
and he winced at the soreness of the stroke.
But when, a year later, the loss of his little blind daughter became
known to Stephanus, his bones seemed to turn to water and light died out
of his life. It was the uncertainty of her fate which made the blow so
terrible. Month by month would he write letters asking for news and
suggesting places to be searched. Had her body only been found it would
have brought some consolation. But no--God's wrath was still sore
against him. It was his perfect trust in God's justice that saved him
from despair. He had no hope that Elsie was alive; God, he firmly
believed, had taken her to himself, and had left her fate uncertain so
as to punish her father, who was the greatest of sinners.
His health nearly broke down under the strain. However, his sublime
faith triumphed in time--he bent his back to the sore stroke and the
soreness grew less.
Stephanus was employed with the ordinary convict gang in the
stone-quarries upon Robben Island. For the first few years he had
worked in chains. Afterwards his good conduct had attracted so much
remark that he was freed from his fetters and allowed several privileges
which, however, he always tried to pass on to his fellow-convicts.
Whenever any of the others fell sick, it was Stephanus who would
tirelessly nurse them, night and day. He had even offered on one
occasion to receive corporal punishment to which another prisoner had
been sentenced, but this, of course, the authorities would not allow.
Since his prostration consequent upon the news of Elsie's disappearance
Stephanus had not been asked to do any labour in the quarries.
Moreover, he had not been forced to cut his hair or beard of late years.
These were snow-white and of considerable length, and, combined with
his upright figure, strongly marked features, and keen but kindly eyes,
gave him that appearance we are accustomed to associate with the Hebrew
prophets filled with the fire of inspiration.
An early breakfast was hardly over at the du Plessis' home next morning,
before Mr Brand appeared, armed with permission for himself and Elsie to
visit the convict van der Walt. They drove down to the wharf, where
they found a boat awaiting them. The day was clear and bracing and the
stout boat flew before the south-east wind across the heaving welter of
Table Bay.
Although Elsie had never been on the sea before, she felt neither alarm
nor inconvenience. In the course of a couple of hours the keel grated
on the shingle and the passengers were carried ashore through the surf.
Her impatience had given place to a feeling of calm, and she paced up
the pathway to the prison without the least appearance of agitation.
Leaving her in charge of the wife of one of the officials, Mr Brand
went to prepare Stephanus for the great surprise.
Elsie's beauty became almost unearthly when she was led up the stone
steps, at the other side of which she knew her father was waiting to
receive her. She entered a flagged passage and then was led to a
doorway on the right. The door opened, and she stepped into the room
where her father was waiting. He, with a wild look of astonishment and
almost incredulity, clasped her in his arms. The door was gently
closed, leaving the two alone together.
Some time elapsed before any words were spoken. Stephanus drew Elsie
upon his knee and she passed her white hands over his worn face in the
old enquiring way. The wrinkled lines that had been ploughed deep by
sorrow were traced by her fingers, one by one. Then she clasped her
arms around his neck and laid her face against his.
Stephanus could hardly bring himself to believe, at first, that this
beautiful and daintily dressed young woman was the roughly-clad and
unkempt little girl he had parted from so long ago. The rest of mind
and body she had enjoyed,--the calm and wholesome life she had led
during the past few years had blotted out the traces of the hardships
she had undergone, and had fostered her physical development. The
serenity of her spirit had stamped itself upon her beautiful face and
she had imbibed the refinement of her surroundings as though to the
manner born.
When, at length, her speech came, and her father learnt, bit by bit, all
she had endured for his sake, his tears fell fast. But for her the
bitterness of the past only enhanced the happiness of the present. Even
when he laid a charge upon her, which almost seemed to take away the
true value of all she had suffered for his sake, she did not attempt to
repine.
"God laid this punishment upon me," said Stephanus, "and it is His will
that I should bear it to the end."
"But when I tell them what I heard they will surely set you free."
"My child,--God does not smite without knowing where and how the stripes
will fall."
"But you did not mean to shoot Uncle Gideon, and he knew it when he
spoke at your trial."
"My child,--you have been brave for my sake, and we will soon be happy
together once more. I lay this charge upon you:--that you go back to
the farm,--to your uncle's house, and wait for me there. Moreover, that
you say not a word to anyone of what you know. If God wants this
revealed He will reveal it in His own way."
Elsie no longer questioned her father's decision. It was agreed between
them that as soon as arrangements could be made she was to return to
Elandsfontein, and there await her father's release.
Elsie and Mr Brand slept at the house of the Superintendent of the
Convict Station that night, and returned to the mainland next morning.
There was grief and dismay in the du Plessis' household when it became
known that Elsie was about to take her departure. It was as though a
child of their own were leaving. They tried every persuasive argument
to detain her, but all were of no avail. It was pointed out that if she
remained in Cape Town she would be near her father and could return with
him after his release. But his will to her was law, and her
determination was not to be shaken.
A letter was written to Gideon apprising him of the fact that his niece
had been found, and another to Uncle Diederick, asking him to come and
fetch Elsie with his tent-wagon and a team of Stephanus' oxen. In due
course a reply was received, to the effect that Gideon was absent on a
hunting trip, and that Uncle Diederick would start for Cape Town in the
course of a few days, accompanied by Elsie's cousin Adrian.
Elsie had begged that enquiry should be made as to whether Kanu had
returned to the farm, but nothing had been seen or heard of him there.
This was, of course, a very fortunate circumstance for the Bushman. Had
he ever been found and recognised, it is to be feared that a short
shrift and a round bullet would have been his portion.