Part 11 (1/2)

FATHER AND DAUGHTER.

Stepha.n.u.s Van Der Walt had entered the door of his prison with the firm conviction that his G.o.d--the just and mighty G.o.d 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 suns.h.i.+ne, 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 G.o.d might not visit his crimes upon his innocent children,--that Elsie, his little blind child, might have the s.h.i.+eld 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 Stepha.n.u.s, 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--G.o.d's wrath was still sore against him. It was his perfect trust in G.o.d's justice that saved him from despair. He had no hope that Elsie was alive; G.o.d, 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.

Stepha.n.u.s 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 pa.s.s on to his fellow-convicts.

Whenever any of the others fell sick, it was Stepha.n.u.s 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 Stepha.n.u.s 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 a.s.sociate 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 s.h.i.+ngle and the pa.s.sengers were carried ash.o.r.e 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 Stepha.n.u.s 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 pa.s.sage 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. Stepha.n.u.s drew Elsie upon his knee and she pa.s.sed 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.

Stepha.n.u.s 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 hards.h.i.+ps 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.

”G.o.d laid this punishment upon me,” said Stepha.n.u.s, ”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,--G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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.