It was late in the evening of a misty, depressing day, when Elsie
arrived at the Elandsfontein homestead. The same air of unkempt
mournfulness brooded over the place. Aletta, who had grown stout and
frowsy, had prepared herself to meet her errant niece with bitter
reproaches, but one glance at Elsie's stately presence and superior
attire, proved sufficient to demoralise the aunt.
Aletta had a furtive, crushed look. The long years of misery and
isolation had left their mark upon her. The only thing which kept her
above the level of the mere animal was the love she still bore her
husband, in spite of his consistent neglect Gideon had spent the greater
portion of the past four years in wandering vaguely through desert
spaces, the more remote the better. In fact he only returned to the
farm from time to time to refit his wagon or renew his cattle or stores.
On each occasion of his departure Aletta had made up her mind that she
would never see him again. He had now been absent for several months,
and none could say when he was likely to return.
But Aletta's curiosity soon got the better of her awe, so one day she
began, tearfully and apologetically, to ask Elsie about her adventures.
Why had she gone--how could she leave them all in such a state of fear
and uncertainty--how could she, a white girl, run away with a Bushman
and thus bring disgrace on respectable people? The questions came out
in an incoherent torrent, which ended in a flood of tears.
"I went on account of my father," replied Elsie.
"But why did you go without telling us?"
"Had I told you, you would have stopped me."
"But you don't mean to tell me that you and Kanu walked all the way to
Cape Town. Why, it takes ten days to reach Cape Town with a span of fat
oxen."
"Yes, Kanu and I walked all the way."
"But where is Kanu."
"I cannot say; I thought to have found him here."
"We thought he had taken you away and murdered you. Had he come back
here he would have been shot."
"Poor Kanu; I am glad he did not return."
"But, my child, there must be more to tell. Why did you go just then,
and why did you never let us know where you were?"
"There is much to tell, but the time to tell it has not yet come. When
my father returns you will, perhaps, know all, but until he bids me
speak I cannot."
The blind girl's words made Aletta quail. The return of Stephanus was
above all the thing she most dreaded. Deep down in her consciousness
lay a conviction of Stephanus' innocence and her husband's guilt. This
she had never admitted even to herself. The first suspicion of the
dreadful truth began to grow upon her immediately after the trial; of
late years suspicion had developed into certainty. Her knowledge of the
deeply-wronged man led her to infer that he would return raging for
vengeance, and that her husband's life would inevitably pay the penalty
of his sin. Many a time had she poured out frantic petitions to Heaven
that Stephanus might die in prison, and thus free her husband from the
shadow that darkened his life. To think now that the event she dreaded
so sorely was about to happen within the space of a few months, turned
her heart to stone.
A few weeks, however, of Elsie's society made her think that possibly
her conviction that Stephanus would come back filled with an implacable
desire for vengeance was a mistaken one. The pledge which Elsie had
made to her father sealed her lips on the subject of his forgiveness of
the wrong that had been done him, but the influence of her strong, sweet
nature came more and more to still the terror that had recently made
Aletta's life more of a misery to her than ever. The only hope of the
unhappy woman now lay in the possibility of being able to influence
Stephanus through the child that he loved so dearly, and she meant to
pour out her whole soul, with all its doubts and suspicions to Elsie
before her father's return, and beg for her intercession.
Nearly four months elapsed after Elsie's arrival before her uncle
returned. One night, late, the footsteps of a horse were heard, and
soon afterwards Gideon entered the house with weary tread. He had left
the wagon some distance behind. When Aletta told him of Elsie's return
he started violently and turned deadly pale. He did not ask where his
niece had been. As his wife descanted with nervous volubility upon the
mystery, and explained how she had been unsuccessful in eliciting from
Elsie any particulars of her flight and subsequent adventures, Gideon
found himself wondering whether it would not be possible for him to get
away secretly and return to the wilderness, thus to avoid meeting the
accusing look of the blind eyes that he remembered so well and dreaded
so sorely. But Elsie just then stepped softly into the room.
"Where is Uncle Gideon?" she said in a soft voice.
Gideon gazed in speechless astonishment at Elsie. His apprehensive eye
wandered over her graceful form and her pallid, beautiful face. He
noticed how her figure had developed and how the gold had deepened in
her hair. As Aletta tremblingly led her forward to the bench upon which
Gideon was seated the unhappy man quailed and tried vainly to avoid the
blind, accusing eyes, which seemed to seek his and to hold them when
found. Elsie lifted her hands and placed them on his shoulders.
"Uncle Gideon," she said, "my father sent me back to live with you until
his release."
Gideon murmured some unintelligible words. Elsie passed her hands
lightly over his features. Aletta quietly left the room.
"Yes," said Elsie, "you have suffered; I will try to comfort you, Uncle
Gideon."
A sense of immediate relief came over the unhappy man. It was now clear
to him that Stephanus could not have told her the truth about the
tragedy at the spring, or else she would never have met him and spoken
to him as she did. So far it was well, but the fact of Stephanus not
having taken her into his confidence was a proof of the implacability of
his mind. But in an instant his mind rushed to another conclusion: this
blind creature who loved her wronged father so utterly,--was it not
certain that her desire for vengeance must be as keen as his? But he
would balk them both by plunging again into the wilderness--so far, this
time, that he would never be able to return.
"A good way to comfort one," he growled ungraciously, "to wander away
with a Bushman and make us run all over the country looking for you."
"Would you like to know, truly, why I went, Uncle Gideon?"
"Oh, as you are back all right now and have had enough to eat, wherever
you have been, it does not matter; you can tell me some other time.--
Only you must not do such a thing again."
"No,--there will be no need for me to do the like again."
Gideon left the room, feeling more and more puzzled. Each one of
Elsie's ambiguous remarks sent his speculations farther and farther
afield. One thing only was clear to him,--it was time to carry out that
intention which had been gradually growing of late years as time went by
and his brother did not, as the miserable man had confidently expected,
die in prison. This was the intention, previously unformulated, of
finally leaving wife, home and everything else and trekking to some
unknown spot far beyond the great, mysterious Gariep,--to some spot so
distant that his brother's vengeance would not be able to reach him, and
there spending the remnant of his miserable days.
To do Gideon but justice, the strongest element in his dread of meeting
Stephanus was not physical but moral. He felt he could not bear to
confront the stern accusation which he pictured as arising in the
injured man's piercing eyes. He feared death, for he dared not meet his
God with this unrepented crime on his soul, but he feared it less than
the eyes of his injured brother,--that brother whom he had robbed of ten
precious years of life.