Part 40 (1/2)

Mr Daveney had summoned resolution to convey the above intelligence with perfect calmness, and as he spoke he clearly perceived the inward working of the heart he probed, despite the struggle against the display of outward suffering.

As he referred to the ”private letter,” Sir John Manvers re-seated himself, but forbore to take up the doc.u.ment, although his hand was impulsively stretched out to take it. At the mention of the wreck of the _Trafalgar_, the handsome face of the proud General was again deeply suffused--the flush pa.s.sed away, leaving a livid ring round the eyes and mouth, and when the Commissioner ceased to speak, the countenance before him, with its ashy lips and stony orbs, more resembled that of a corpse than a living being.

The stern man moved his head with the rigidity of a figure worked by springs--he waved his hand, indicating a wish to be left alone, but Daveney did not stir. Hat in hand, he still stood contemplating with an air of earnest sympathy the unfortunate Sir John Manvers--_the father of Jasper Lyle--the convict--the rebel--the doomed traitor_!

Several minutes elapsed, mind and body seemed equally prostrated; but Sir John's senses had not forsaken him, he had still the _capacity to suffer_. His right hand lay fixed as marble on the table beside the fatal letter, the nails were blue from the stagnant blood within, his chest heaved with stifled sighs, the stony orbs grew bloodshot, the ghastly features were convulsed.

He fought manfully, desperately, against nature, and conquered. He rose, and trembling violently, Daveney was prepared to see him fall; but although he tottered, he kept his ground.

Still he could not speak. A watch ticking on the camp-table sounded like Time pa.s.sing with a heavy tread; the din of the camp was but a murmur in the distance, but it seemed strangely distinct. So did the sentry's foot on the gra.s.s. How close he was; a canvas screen only separated the suffering General from the careless happy soldier. A chorus rose clear and joyous from the banks of the river, and laughter, shrill and boisterous, pierced the air.

All these accustomed sounds now jarred harshly on the Commissioner's ear, as before him stood the stern, cold, haughty man, suddenly a.s.sailed by trouble, his ride tottering in the dust. He, the centre of this busy crowd, had not a friend to whom he could turn for support or consolation. In the kind Daveney's breast he might have met with sympathy, but his was a nature which resented pity. Again he bade the Commissioner depart, and the latter, regretful and anxious, retired, leaving the unhappy man to the solitude of his marquee.

The sun was setting, the camp-ground was dotted with fires, the games were over, but the laughter and the song continued as the soldiers lounged over their evening meal. The herd-boys were driving the flocks and cattle over the heathy uplands, and Marion, Ormsby, and Mr Trail stood at the rude gate of the new-made garden, watching the Commissioner's approach from the lines.

He was so intent on what had pa.s.sed between the General and himself, that he forgot to ask the usual question, ”How is my darling?” but he was reminded of her by Marion telling him that her sister had fallen into a deep and quiet sleep, and that the medical attendant foretold improvement from the moisture which already bedewed her tense brow and wasted hands.

At midnight Daveney looked forth upon the hushed camp-ground. The stillness was only broken by the occasional challenge between the watchful sentinels, and but one light burnt strong and clear in the vast and tented field; it was in the General's marquee.

Before daybreak the Commissioner, accompanied by Mr Trail, and followed by May, reconnoitred the location in which he had placed his dwelling.

Perfect silence reigned throughout, but still that light shone steadily.

Oh! to have lifted the canva.s.sed screen of that pavilion, and seen therein a strong man and a proud, pacing, pacing, to and fro, to and fro, with arms lightly folded across his chest, striving to stifle the emotions which rose and fell like a heavy tide, as his thoughts dragged him back, and forced him to look upon the wasted, the irredeemable past!

And the laughing sun came forth from his gorgeous eastern throne, and poured his beams alike upon the sleeping soldier and the waking General, and it mocked the light of the poor lamp even as the things of heaven mock all things of earth!

Both the public and the private despatch from Sir Adrian Fairfax to Sir John Manvers lay open on the camp-table.

The first simply contained the official information respecting Lee; the second was as follows:--

”My dear Sir John,--

”I have requested my good friend Daveney, the present Commissioner for the Gaika tribes, to prepare you for intelligence which it gives me unmitigated pain to write. My resolution not to accept the post of Governor till my work here was done was founded on the best principles; but I regret it now for your sake, since as you will have learned, before opening this, the man Lee, named in my official despatch, 10th May, 18--, is no other than Jasper Lyle. At present his ident.i.ty is known only to the Daveneys, their immediate friends, and myself, and I see no way of your avoiding personal contact or correspondence with him, unless you resolve to throw over publicly the reins of government to me.

Would to heaven, my dear friend, that this man had perished among the unfortunate pa.s.sengers of the _Trafalgar_, or that he had fallen in the encounter with the Dutch at the stony ridges! My chief desire now is to hear that he has got clear into the upper districts; but unhappily he has made enemies among the people he affects to a.s.sist, and I am told they are determined to yield him up to me. In such a case, as a soldier, you know I have no alternative.

”In a word, my dear Sir John, my mind would be greatly relieved at hearing that either you or he had quitted the colony. Pardon language that appears uncourteous; my pen fails in expressing as it ought all that I feel, all that I am ready to do in any way in which I may serve you at this lamentable crisis.

”With great regard, and a.s.suring you of my earnest regret at this unfortunate and unlooked-for result of the late action against the misguided Boers,

”I beg you to believe me most truly yours,

”Adrian Fairfax.”

”To Sir John Manvers, Bart, K.C.B.”

”Known only to the Daveneys, their immediate friends, and myself!” Sir John Manvers stopped from time to time in his circ.u.mscribed walk, and read and re-read these odious and degrading words frequently during the night, and as the sun poured his beams athwart the sickly lamp, he held the letter to the flame, and finally casting the blackened paper to the ground, crushed the ashes beneath his boot.

”So so--I am a gazing-stock for the Daveneys and their immediate friends,--that soft-voiced, cautious missionary, that idler Ormsby, that Frankfort, who writes such d--d laconic memoranda, that are in reality orders! I am a mark for bad men's scorn and good men's pity. _Good_ men! What const.i.tutes a good man? Is he one whom the devil has not been _permitted_ to tempt?--_permitted_ to tempt, mark that!