Part 15 (2/2)

But now a redoubt was in speedy progress, the entrances being protected at night by piles of thorn-bushes; and the vineyard having in peaceful days been irrigated by a mountain rill, there was abundance of water; there was a chance of the supply being cut off by the cunning foe, but tanks and barrels were to be filled, which Mr Trail doubted not would last as long as water was required; for the plan of the defence was so admirable, that it was scarcely probable the Kafirs would make an open a.s.sault; still the cattle were a great temptation, and foraging parties were daily bringing in fresh captures.

”But,” said Mr Trail, pulling out his watch, ”I must leave you now, sir, and at nine o'clock I propose a.s.sembling the family, and closing the day with thanksgiving to the Almighty for the mercies with which He surrounds us. We shall meet again then, I trust;” and leaving Frankfort in the vineyard, the missionary returned to the house.

What could this interview between Eleanor and Mr Trail mean? ”Pshaw,”

thought Frankfort, ”what is it to me?” and then the mantling cheek, the quivering lip, the trembling hand, on which he had discovered the mystic ring guarded by a circlet--a gilded snake--came between him and his reason, and he paced the green retreat, regardless of the fading day, till the moon rose high and clear, and the path was traced with the graceful pattern of the vine foliage.

Something glittered in the path, he picked it up; the moonlit atmosphere of South Africa is so brilliant that the smallest handwriting is legible; but what he lifted was a miniature of a lovely child. There was nothing but the head, bending, as it were, from orient clouds; the face was angelic, the lips rosy and smiling, the waving hair like threads of gold in sunlight, the eyes with the pencilled brow unmistakable. Was it a brother, sister, or child of Eleanor? He looked at the back, and on an enamel ground was inscribed: ”My Harry, born April 18--died March 18--.”

”Eheu! Eheu! Eheu!”

He put it carefully up. The bell, hanging in a large mulberry-tree, under which the household a.s.sembled on Sundays to wors.h.i.+p that G.o.d whose presence lights the desert, was now struck by Griqua Adam, on returning through the vineyard, reminded ”the Sir,” that ”prayer-time was come;”

and Frankfort, re-entering the trellised pa.s.sage, joined the family and household servants on their way to what Ormsby already nicknamed the conventicle, where Mr Trail awaited them with the Bible open at the thirty-seventh Psalm.

Frankfort was quite accustomed to hear men like Mr Trail called ”swaddlers,” ”humbugs,” nay, terms were applied to them such as no woman's pen can record; but though he felt what sorry representatives of their societies some of these teachers of G.o.d's solemn will had been, he was not one to censure the ma.s.s for the misdoings of the few; and therefore, soldier though he was, his heart was moved as he looked on the reader's calm, benevolent face, and heard him proclaim, in mild but fervent tones, that ”the meek-spirited shall possess the earth;” and even Ormsby's eye glowed with something of enthusiasm as the missionary lifted up his voice at the closing verse, ”And the Lord shall help them, and deliver them; he shall deliver them from the wicked, and save them, because they put their trust in him.”

Frankfort could not help glancing towards Eleanor. She seemed unconscious of any one's presence: verily, if by nature she was intended for loftier purposes, some deep sorrow had stricken her, and she was of a surety belonging to the ”meek-spirited of the earth.” Large tears were stealing slowly and silently down that young and faded face, and fell in diamond drops unheeded on her sable garb; there were others weeping in that place of prayer besides herself but these sorrowed not without hope. If she had hope, it was evidently not of this earth; and Frankfort was more convinced of this every hour he pa.s.sed in her presence, a presence felt more than he liked to acknowledge to himself, for she had evidently not a thought to bestow on him.

Her mother's eyes were fixed upon her; Mrs Daveney was seated beside the reader, Eleanor in a corner where there fell but little light.

Still the watchful gaze seemed to pierce the mourner's very soul, and Frankfort, a keen observer of countenance, read in that mother's eye anxiety, tenderness, yet something of reproach.

”Let us join in prayer,” said the teacher, and, for the first time since he had left England, Ormsby found himself kneeling in a home congregation.

He could not follow the teacher,--he was back again in the old dim library, a little boy, at his mother's side, with his hand clasped in hers. Perhaps at this very hour [there is little variation of time between Europe and South Africa] they were all a.s.sembled there,--master, mistress, children, servants on whose heads Time had shed his snow, even where they had then stood,--while the soldier son was wandering in distant countries.

But Frankfort forgot even Eleanor as he listened to the eloquent voice of Mr Trail. The prayer opened with that fine verse from the ninth Psalm, ”Arise, O Lord, let not man prevail; let the heathen be judged in thy right. Put them in fear, O Lord, that the nations may know themselves to be but men;” and at the close of it he added, ”And it is for you too, my friends, to know yourselves to be but men. It is the arm of the Lord that shall prevail, and not an arm of flesh. We know, O G.o.d, that thou wilt help us; but in His name who commands us to love our enemies, to do good to them that despitefully entreat us, we beseech thee to remove these blinded heathen from the blackness and the darkness with which it has pleased thee to surround them. We know that they would have our blood poured out like water, but do thou of thy mercy teach us to subdue our hearts, as well as our enemies, and in the spirit that bids us turn our cheek to the smiter, teach us charity to our benighted brethren. Would, O Lord, that it might please thee to quench the burning brand, and bury the war-spear in the earth for ever; but if such be not thy will, go forth with our armies, Lord; make them strong in faith, that in the name of the Lord they may do valiantly. We know that thy cause must prevail; that the banner of the Cross, though it be dyed in blood, must be planted wheresoever thy gospel shall be carried.

Help us then in this fierce strife, this mortal conflict for G.o.d and for the right; and, even as thou wert a cloud by day and a fire by night to the Israelites of old, be with us in this wilderness. Once more, O Lord, once more, have mercy on our foes, and teach us from the depths of our hearts to say in the words of Him who died that we might live, Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

It was the sentiment, the tone, the fervency, and the simplicity, which gave eloquence to this appeal, and Frankfort loved to join in the hymn that closed the service, all standing; but, alas! habit has more to do with human nature than the theory of right. The solemn song rose from lips accustomed to the holy duty, and if Ormsby had little heed of what was pa.s.sing, his friend at least felt that there were things to be searched for and known, whereof his philosophy had not yet dreamt,-- those mysteries of good and evil which all the metaphysics in the world can never penetrate, if the true light be wanting on the path that leads to them.

The blessing was invoked, the little congregation rose, and Frankfort's thoughts were earthwards again as he remembered the miniature.

There was no doubt in his mind to whom it belonged. But to whom should he restore it? He was following Mrs Daveney into the sitting-room, intending to place it in her hands, when Mr Trail drew him back.

”A little accident has happened,” said the missionary; ”one of my wagon-boxes broke in the hurry of our rough journey, and in transferring the contents through the vineyard to the house--”

Frankfort drew the miniature forth, and said, ”Is this your property?”

”It is one of the articles I have missed,” replied Mr Trail; ”I am truly glad it is found.” As he spoke, Eleanor approached, and seeing the miniature handed from one gentleman to the other, looked eagerly in the missionary's face, as though inquiring the meaning of what was pa.s.sing. Mr Trail drew her arm through his, and led her away, leaving Frankfort mystified.

He had been told this fair, melancholy creature was a widow. It was clear she had been a mother, and she was now probably mourning the recent death of her child; but why were these, apparently, secret or forbidden themes?

Then he reasoned as usual,--what was it to him? He was a stranger,--and yet he could not be considered entirely such under present circ.u.mstances, and how much, too, Mr Daveney had intrusted to him!

He waited for some minutes, hoping Mr Trail would return, and accompany him in his night rounds. He stepped into the verandah: the plains were bathed in moonlight. The inmates of the wagons were retiring to their rest; only here and there a light glimmered, or the feeble voice of an infant and some mother's murmured lullaby wailed through the stillness of the night; but Mr Trail and Eleanor were pacing the stoep in such earnest conversation, that they did not perceive Frankfort, who withdrew to his nightly duty.

The cattle had been secured by Griqua Adam, the gates were closed, the sentinels posted, and the outworks were nearly completed. Mr Daveney was expected home on the morrow.

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