Part 15 (2/2)

Just on the edge of the copse the stream seemed to hang like a bright jewel, as the sunlight glinted from the pure, limpid water.

As Gideon turned away his eyes grew moist for an instant, and he felt a queer, unbidden feeling of almost tenderness for the brother with whom among these hills and valleys he had played and hunted in the days of his innocence, creeping like a tendril about his heart. But he crushed the feeling down, and rode on with his hat pressed over his eyebrows.

On the other side of the mountain pa.s.s the outlook was different. He was on the north-eastern limit of the coast rains. Bushmanland depended for its uncertain rainfall upon thunderstorms from the north in the summer season. But for two years no rain had fallen anywhere near the southern fringe of the desert, so the plains which stretched forth northward from Gideon's feet were utterly void of green vegetation.

To one familiar with the desert the sight before him had an awful significance; it meant that there was no water, nor any vegetation worth considering for at least a hundred and fifty miles. Gideon had known, by the fact of the larger game flocking down into the valleys, that Bushmanland was both verdureless and waterless, and that anyone who should attempt to cross it would incur a terrible risk.

But nothing before him could compete for terror with what he was fleeing from. Setting spurs to his horse Gideon pa.s.sed the wagon; then he rode ahead at a walk, the patient oxen following with the rumbling wagon, upon his tracks.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

THE RETURN OF STEPHa.n.u.s.

”Come, child, it is past our time for sleep,” said Aletta. She was sitting on the sofa in the _voorhuis_. It was midnight of the day of Gideon's departure. Elsie stood at the open window which faced the south. The night was still and sultry and a dense fog covered the earth.

”I shall not go to bed to-night, Aunt. My father draws near. His wagon has reached the sand-belt where the dead tree stands.”

”Nonsense, child, the sand-belt is an hour's ride on horseback from here. Let us pray to G.o.d for sleep and good dreams, and then lie down until the day comes.”

”I shall not go to bed to-night; my father is coming.”

”Nonsense, nonsense,--you cannot hear at such a distance.”

”I can hear, and the sound stills the long pain in my heart. My father draws near and nearer.”

”Well--well--perhaps it is true--perhaps--”

She fell upon her knees and threw up her clasped hands. ”Oh G.o.d, let him not come before my husband is far away. Oh G.o.d,--I am blameless.-- Grant me only this.”

Elsie approached her with a smile, bent down and encircled her with a protecting arm and then drew her gently to a seat.

”Aunt,--let me talk to you: Do you know that I am often very glad that I was born blind?”

”Glad you are blind?”

”Yes, because I have knowledge of many things unknown to people who can see.”

”What kind of things?”

”Many things of many kinds. For instance:--to-night you cannot see the stars; a dry mist has rolled up from the sea since we have been in this room; it covers the valley like a blanket. But the hill-tops are clear; they are hidden from you, but I can see them--and the stars above, as well.--And my father draws nearer.”

”G.o.d's mercy forbid. Three days,--three short days is all I ask for.”

”Where you see but clouds I see the stars; where you see danger I see joy. You fear my father without cause.”

”Without cause.--Nine long years--no cause--?”

”There was cause enough, but my father is not angry.”

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