Chapter Twenty Three.

Chapter Twenty Three.What shall They do with It?“Explain to me your ideal of married life?”“It is one of joy and happiness and of usefulness to our neighbours as well as ourselves. I have come to the conclusion that the restlessness in married people, which leads to divorces, springs entirely from selfishness. As for me, I want henceforth to make my life one of use to every one that comes near me. Every one is given at least one talent for use; not to hide and hoard away. Except for its new duties and relations, married life has no higher ideals than single life. The same earnest unselfish principles should actuate us in whatever sphere we are called. We must shut our eyes to everything but the good in those who seek us, and so call out the best there is in them. That is the great secret of happiness. Encourage a soul to grow, and it will soar far beyond its highest fancies.”“Kate! you voice the feelings of my best nature. The life of a conscientious physician is only one of use to his neighbour. How might we, equally devoted to humanity and usefulness, work together. If you could but trust yourself to me, we could surely do much good in our lives, one in heart and purpose. Do not fear to trust yourself in my keeping. I know the responsibility of holding a woman’s happiness in keeping, and I would hardly let my first betrayal of any trust be a treachery to the wife of my choice.”Kate looked long and earnestly at the brilliant stars, that hung from the blue curtain of night. She seemed to drink of an inspiring force, and her eyes matched the brilliancy of the heavenly orbs, as she looked into his, that were so strong and true. In a clear voice she said:“I am yours in trust.”The next instant she was gathered in his arms, and held there, while his lips pressed her brow. It would have seemed like mockery to have spoken at such a moment. Words are needless when Love sits enthroned. Then it is that heart speaks to heart.“Miss Darcy?”“Yes, Margaret.”“May I speak with you a moment?”“Well, what is it?” and Kate approached Margaret, who stood a little distance from the lovers.“A strange creature is here who wishes to see you.”“See me? Is it a man or woman?”“He looks like a Bushman.”“What can a Bushman want of me?” said Kate, walking toward the house. In the still night air, the doctor had heard every word, and now followed her. He found Bela talking rapidly to her in clicks and vowel sounds, with his hand held over his eyes.When Kate saw the doctor she laughingly said:“He sounds like a cricket! Can you understand the jargon?”At sight of the doctor, Bela acted like one insane with delight. He clapped his hands and kept time with his feet, while his body swayed in strange undulating motions.“Let us go into the house, Miss Darcy,” and making a motion to the Bushman to follow, they entered the salon. The doctor sat down, and Bela stood and told his story. As he proceeded the doctor’s face was a study to Kate, who knew from its expression that something very strange had occurred.In a few moments putting his fingers to Bela’s eyes, he lifted the lid and slipped the glass eye from under it. As he did so, the concealed diamond fell into his hand.“Great Scott!” exclaimed the doctor.Bela chuckled, and began to clap his hands and express delight in his usual way. Kate gave one look, and sank into a chair. They sat for a moment looking at each other, in stupefaction. Then Kate asked:“What does it all mean?”“It means that Donald Laure has been arrested on suspicion of being an I.D.B. and this creature has been a faithful servant to Mrs Laure. You may go outside and wait for me, Bela.” When the Bushman had gone, the doctor continued: “Knowing you were a friend to his mistress, he has run from the Fields to you, without stopping, carrying the diamond in his eye! These natives are wonderfully astute, and Bela knowing that as you were living in the Orange Free State out of the pale of the law of Griqua Land West, the land of diamonds, if he could deliver this diamond into your keeping, he would be safe, and every one else connected with it.”“What would I have done with the diamond? Mercy! how glad I am that you are here.”“Already, Kate, I am of use to you? I am very glad indeed, for your sake, that I am here.”“What will you do with it?”“Well, I shall consider the matter. It is late, and I must now go to my hotel. I will think it over and tell you my decision in the morning. This has been a memorable day in my existence, but it must end, more’s the pity.“Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow,That I shall say good night, ’till it be morrow,”quoted the doctor, as he left her alone.The next morning they were eager to see each other, for this was the dawn of their new life, and their faces reflected the radiance of the glory of the light on their horizon. Yet their talk was not of themselves but of Bela and the diamond.“I have been busy this morning attending to this matter. Bela has disappeared! I find he was last seen at sunrise, on the road leading up into the interior of the country. He must have been nearly frightened to death over the scene with the detectives and his mistress, and afterwards by a little encounter with the guards at the gate. He probably fears even me at present, thinking that I may hand him over to the authorities, and so injure Laure. These natives have some of the wisdom supposed to be bestowed only upon their masters.”“What will you do with the gem?”“I have telegraphed to Kimberley to find if Donald Laure is there. The disappearance of Bela with the diamond may cause Donald to change his plans.”As they sat talking a telegram was brought in by Margaret. Its contents follow:“Donald Laure and wife have left Kimberley for England.”The doctor sat thinking with a puzzled expression on his countenance.“Surprises multiply, Kate. What shall we now do with the diamond? I do not know to whom it belongs, and do not wish to do anybody an injury by sending it to the authorities. They would at once telegraph to England and have Donald Laure seized on his arrival in that country.”“What do men do with their diamonds, when they want to get them out of their way?”“Oh, they bury them, or send them to England by mail.”“Why don’t you do that?”“Do what?”“Send it by mail to your banker in England, addressed to Donald Laure, care of yourself, so it will be in safe hands, then you can give him an order for it when you find out his address.”“Well, Kate! That is good Yankee invention. You will be as good as a lawyer in adjusting all weighty matters that may arise in our lives. It is just the thing to do. Who says a woman’s quick invention isn’t worth more than the step-ladder man uses when he tries to climb to the heights of success through his reason?”“Then you will do that?”“It is the only thing to do. I will send it off before I leave to-day. We have only a few hours to ourselves before I start on my journey down the country to the sea, where I will take the steamer which will carry me to England in twenty days. I am a happier man, Kate, than I expected to be on that journey. When I came to Bloemfontein it did not seem as if I were worthy to approach and ask you to give yourself into my keeping.”“Love makes one feel unworthy of the object upon which it sets its affections. But our recompense for this personal sense of unfitness is the glory we gain in the eyes of our beloved. Perhaps an average struck between the humility of love on one side and the exaggeration of love on the other, will give a fair estimate of the reality.”The doctor smiled at Kate’s grave conclusion, and taking both her hands in his, laid them over his heart which beat so truly, and on which she knew she could rest and gather to herself strength. In another hour he was on his way to the coast.

“Explain to me your ideal of married life?”

“It is one of joy and happiness and of usefulness to our neighbours as well as ourselves. I have come to the conclusion that the restlessness in married people, which leads to divorces, springs entirely from selfishness. As for me, I want henceforth to make my life one of use to every one that comes near me. Every one is given at least one talent for use; not to hide and hoard away. Except for its new duties and relations, married life has no higher ideals than single life. The same earnest unselfish principles should actuate us in whatever sphere we are called. We must shut our eyes to everything but the good in those who seek us, and so call out the best there is in them. That is the great secret of happiness. Encourage a soul to grow, and it will soar far beyond its highest fancies.”

“Kate! you voice the feelings of my best nature. The life of a conscientious physician is only one of use to his neighbour. How might we, equally devoted to humanity and usefulness, work together. If you could but trust yourself to me, we could surely do much good in our lives, one in heart and purpose. Do not fear to trust yourself in my keeping. I know the responsibility of holding a woman’s happiness in keeping, and I would hardly let my first betrayal of any trust be a treachery to the wife of my choice.”

Kate looked long and earnestly at the brilliant stars, that hung from the blue curtain of night. She seemed to drink of an inspiring force, and her eyes matched the brilliancy of the heavenly orbs, as she looked into his, that were so strong and true. In a clear voice she said:

“I am yours in trust.”

The next instant she was gathered in his arms, and held there, while his lips pressed her brow. It would have seemed like mockery to have spoken at such a moment. Words are needless when Love sits enthroned. Then it is that heart speaks to heart.

“Miss Darcy?”

“Yes, Margaret.”

“May I speak with you a moment?”

“Well, what is it?” and Kate approached Margaret, who stood a little distance from the lovers.

“A strange creature is here who wishes to see you.”

“See me? Is it a man or woman?”

“He looks like a Bushman.”

“What can a Bushman want of me?” said Kate, walking toward the house. In the still night air, the doctor had heard every word, and now followed her. He found Bela talking rapidly to her in clicks and vowel sounds, with his hand held over his eyes.

When Kate saw the doctor she laughingly said:

“He sounds like a cricket! Can you understand the jargon?”

At sight of the doctor, Bela acted like one insane with delight. He clapped his hands and kept time with his feet, while his body swayed in strange undulating motions.

“Let us go into the house, Miss Darcy,” and making a motion to the Bushman to follow, they entered the salon. The doctor sat down, and Bela stood and told his story. As he proceeded the doctor’s face was a study to Kate, who knew from its expression that something very strange had occurred.

In a few moments putting his fingers to Bela’s eyes, he lifted the lid and slipped the glass eye from under it. As he did so, the concealed diamond fell into his hand.

“Great Scott!” exclaimed the doctor.

Bela chuckled, and began to clap his hands and express delight in his usual way. Kate gave one look, and sank into a chair. They sat for a moment looking at each other, in stupefaction. Then Kate asked:

“What does it all mean?”

“It means that Donald Laure has been arrested on suspicion of being an I.D.B. and this creature has been a faithful servant to Mrs Laure. You may go outside and wait for me, Bela.” When the Bushman had gone, the doctor continued: “Knowing you were a friend to his mistress, he has run from the Fields to you, without stopping, carrying the diamond in his eye! These natives are wonderfully astute, and Bela knowing that as you were living in the Orange Free State out of the pale of the law of Griqua Land West, the land of diamonds, if he could deliver this diamond into your keeping, he would be safe, and every one else connected with it.”

“What would I have done with the diamond? Mercy! how glad I am that you are here.”

“Already, Kate, I am of use to you? I am very glad indeed, for your sake, that I am here.”

“What will you do with it?”

“Well, I shall consider the matter. It is late, and I must now go to my hotel. I will think it over and tell you my decision in the morning. This has been a memorable day in my existence, but it must end, more’s the pity.

“Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow,That I shall say good night, ’till it be morrow,”

quoted the doctor, as he left her alone.

The next morning they were eager to see each other, for this was the dawn of their new life, and their faces reflected the radiance of the glory of the light on their horizon. Yet their talk was not of themselves but of Bela and the diamond.

“I have been busy this morning attending to this matter. Bela has disappeared! I find he was last seen at sunrise, on the road leading up into the interior of the country. He must have been nearly frightened to death over the scene with the detectives and his mistress, and afterwards by a little encounter with the guards at the gate. He probably fears even me at present, thinking that I may hand him over to the authorities, and so injure Laure. These natives have some of the wisdom supposed to be bestowed only upon their masters.”

“What will you do with the gem?”

“I have telegraphed to Kimberley to find if Donald Laure is there. The disappearance of Bela with the diamond may cause Donald to change his plans.”

As they sat talking a telegram was brought in by Margaret. Its contents follow:

“Donald Laure and wife have left Kimberley for England.”

The doctor sat thinking with a puzzled expression on his countenance.

“Surprises multiply, Kate. What shall we now do with the diamond? I do not know to whom it belongs, and do not wish to do anybody an injury by sending it to the authorities. They would at once telegraph to England and have Donald Laure seized on his arrival in that country.”

“What do men do with their diamonds, when they want to get them out of their way?”

“Oh, they bury them, or send them to England by mail.”

“Why don’t you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Send it by mail to your banker in England, addressed to Donald Laure, care of yourself, so it will be in safe hands, then you can give him an order for it when you find out his address.”

“Well, Kate! That is good Yankee invention. You will be as good as a lawyer in adjusting all weighty matters that may arise in our lives. It is just the thing to do. Who says a woman’s quick invention isn’t worth more than the step-ladder man uses when he tries to climb to the heights of success through his reason?”

“Then you will do that?”

“It is the only thing to do. I will send it off before I leave to-day. We have only a few hours to ourselves before I start on my journey down the country to the sea, where I will take the steamer which will carry me to England in twenty days. I am a happier man, Kate, than I expected to be on that journey. When I came to Bloemfontein it did not seem as if I were worthy to approach and ask you to give yourself into my keeping.”

“Love makes one feel unworthy of the object upon which it sets its affections. But our recompense for this personal sense of unfitness is the glory we gain in the eyes of our beloved. Perhaps an average struck between the humility of love on one side and the exaggeration of love on the other, will give a fair estimate of the reality.”

The doctor smiled at Kate’s grave conclusion, and taking both her hands in his, laid them over his heart which beat so truly, and on which she knew she could rest and gather to herself strength. In another hour he was on his way to the coast.

Chapter Twenty Four.“How will it End?”What a civiliser is the railroad, preceded by the missionary, and followed by the speculator!How changed is the country, since the time when the journey from Kimberley to the coast was made by ox-wagon, by stagecoach, or Cape cart, with its Malay driver and Hottentot guard, with a possible passenger hurrying to the sea to catch the English steamer.Here the Kafir, with his coating of blue clay, once wound his way over the path worn by his ancestors, through the Karoo, across the sluit, the swamp, over the Kopje, telegraphing his approach by that soft, melodious, far-reaching cry peculiar to himself, on his pilgrimage to the great ocean, his goal. Not until certain sacred rites were carried into effect and he was cleansed in the great waters, was he considered a man by his tribe, and his approach to a kraal was but the signal for the younger women to hide themselves.Strange creatures, and stranger customs, that are as strictly adhered to, as were the Mosaic laws of old, which in some respects they resemble. The scientist in the country finds the native life a weird, never-ending mystery, and the iron horse seems a trespasser.In these days the traveller lounges in a luxurious Pullman coach, which in thirty hours hurries to the coast at Port Elizabeth, across sandy plains, and treeless mountains, passing slowly and gracefully over the “Good Hope” bridge, over a thousand feet in length, built upon nine arches that span the Orange River, a treacherous stream fifty-five feet below the rail, rushing onward to that omnivorous mouth, the Sea. During a few months of the year the upland rivers come rolling down like cataracts, over huge boulders, and dragging great gnarled trees with them, as if they were no more than a feather’s weight; thus leaving the riverbeds dry during the remaining months of the year, or with a mere brooklet trickling along between wide yawning walls of clay.On reaching Port Elizabeth, that enterprising city of Cape Colony, Dr Fox proceeded immediately to the long jetty, built well out into the sea, and there boarded a tug that lay alongside, and was soon steaming out to the “Arab,” riding at anchor in Algoa Bay.Many passengers were aboard, a number having come from Natal, and their faces expressed satisfaction at the prospect of a visit home to England.Soon the heart of the great “Arab” began to beat, and the pulsations could be heard and felt by the passengers sitting on its deck watching the sunlight reflected on the wooded shores of the African coast, that seemed to glide by, while the “Arab” stood still.A few days at sea seems a very long time, and social reserve drops off with the taking of the log. The seats arranged at table, the constant personal association in the confines of the ship, together with the hundred of incidents that arise during a long voyage, soon reveal the characters of fellow passengers. If there is congeniality the voyage comes to an end almost too soon.There is no life that can tell of its romances and its heart-burnings like the life at sea.A man’s soul must be living indeed in a cold atmosphere, that can be so gently rocked in such a richly carved and gilded cradle as one of those Southern steamers, and not find sentiment growing in his soul. Especially if he is fortunate to meet there what may appear to be an affinity.On reaching Cape Town the following day, and entering the stone dock, the doctor disembarked to pay a flying visit to the Eden-like suburbs, where the houses, covered with passion-flowers, growing in wild profusion and surrounded by orchids, peep out, overlooking the beautiful waters of Table Bay. With the mauve-tinted, golden-rimmed mountains lying in the distance, it is a veritable paradise in which to hide one’s self away from the world.Taking a hansom and returning to the steamer, the doctor stood on deck watching the sailors depositing the luggage in the hold, and thinking what that voyage might mean in the lives of many of the passengers.As this thought sprang up, he looked toward the dock, and saw three persons in tourist garb, hastily approaching the gangplank, then in course of being hauled on deck.Their faces were familiar. They were Donald and Dainty Laure, with Herr Schwatka, and they came hastily on board, and disappeared in the deck cabins allotted to them.This was the beginning of a new act, not anticipated by the doctor, in the drama of which, so far, he had been a spectator.“What will be the end of it?” was his mental query.Here in the Southern hemisphere, with the clearly defined outline of majestic scenery, the great “Arab” again began slowly to swing away from her moorings out into the boundless ocean, soon to glide over its bosom, as swiftly as a swan in its native lake.Hardly a ripple disturbed the waters, and the air kissed the cheek like the touch of an angel’s wing.Here, where “The heavens are telling the glory of God,” and the Southern Cross and the eye of night throw out a light unequalled in our Northern hemisphere, to simply live is a delight.That great deck seemed unnecessary for those quiet waters, but there are times when the sea changes its moods with a suddenness like that of Southern storms in the upland regions of Africa, where the whirlwinds of dust come with unexpected fury. Those tropical winds, on both land and sea, are treacherous and capricious.To attempt to describe a sea-voyage from Africa to England, through the summer voyage of the world, is like attempting to describe a dream that had been one long, sweet draught of perfect happiness, where the spirit seemed to go wherever it willed, and was in company with people with whom it felt in harmony.There are usually musicians, or accomplished people aboard, who have no thought of hiding their light under a bushel, but who cheerfully contribute to the entertainment of their fellow passengers.To Dainty Laure what would not this experience have been, had her heart been at rest. But she looked at the new world with strange experiences distracting her soul, and the unwonted surroundings made her condition but more pitiful.Unable to control the harassing conditions of her life, she was like a sick, suffering creature denied the quiet and rest needed for recovery. In her full strength, and with her former capacity for enjoyment, she would have taken a child’s delight in change.But now, removed from her accustomed places, kept by circumstances from putting her trust for the future where her heart prompted, and unable to feel toward Donald the reliance of love, she was never at rest.Often she would sit long by the side of the doctor, not saying a word. He was the one man she knew well whose presence satisfied her. The doctor never questioned her, for the agony of her spirit was written on her face, which grew sadder day by day. She knew not how to wear a mask.

What a civiliser is the railroad, preceded by the missionary, and followed by the speculator!

How changed is the country, since the time when the journey from Kimberley to the coast was made by ox-wagon, by stagecoach, or Cape cart, with its Malay driver and Hottentot guard, with a possible passenger hurrying to the sea to catch the English steamer.

Here the Kafir, with his coating of blue clay, once wound his way over the path worn by his ancestors, through the Karoo, across the sluit, the swamp, over the Kopje, telegraphing his approach by that soft, melodious, far-reaching cry peculiar to himself, on his pilgrimage to the great ocean, his goal. Not until certain sacred rites were carried into effect and he was cleansed in the great waters, was he considered a man by his tribe, and his approach to a kraal was but the signal for the younger women to hide themselves.

Strange creatures, and stranger customs, that are as strictly adhered to, as were the Mosaic laws of old, which in some respects they resemble. The scientist in the country finds the native life a weird, never-ending mystery, and the iron horse seems a trespasser.

In these days the traveller lounges in a luxurious Pullman coach, which in thirty hours hurries to the coast at Port Elizabeth, across sandy plains, and treeless mountains, passing slowly and gracefully over the “Good Hope” bridge, over a thousand feet in length, built upon nine arches that span the Orange River, a treacherous stream fifty-five feet below the rail, rushing onward to that omnivorous mouth, the Sea. During a few months of the year the upland rivers come rolling down like cataracts, over huge boulders, and dragging great gnarled trees with them, as if they were no more than a feather’s weight; thus leaving the riverbeds dry during the remaining months of the year, or with a mere brooklet trickling along between wide yawning walls of clay.

On reaching Port Elizabeth, that enterprising city of Cape Colony, Dr Fox proceeded immediately to the long jetty, built well out into the sea, and there boarded a tug that lay alongside, and was soon steaming out to the “Arab,” riding at anchor in Algoa Bay.

Many passengers were aboard, a number having come from Natal, and their faces expressed satisfaction at the prospect of a visit home to England.

Soon the heart of the great “Arab” began to beat, and the pulsations could be heard and felt by the passengers sitting on its deck watching the sunlight reflected on the wooded shores of the African coast, that seemed to glide by, while the “Arab” stood still.

A few days at sea seems a very long time, and social reserve drops off with the taking of the log. The seats arranged at table, the constant personal association in the confines of the ship, together with the hundred of incidents that arise during a long voyage, soon reveal the characters of fellow passengers. If there is congeniality the voyage comes to an end almost too soon.

There is no life that can tell of its romances and its heart-burnings like the life at sea.

A man’s soul must be living indeed in a cold atmosphere, that can be so gently rocked in such a richly carved and gilded cradle as one of those Southern steamers, and not find sentiment growing in his soul. Especially if he is fortunate to meet there what may appear to be an affinity.

On reaching Cape Town the following day, and entering the stone dock, the doctor disembarked to pay a flying visit to the Eden-like suburbs, where the houses, covered with passion-flowers, growing in wild profusion and surrounded by orchids, peep out, overlooking the beautiful waters of Table Bay. With the mauve-tinted, golden-rimmed mountains lying in the distance, it is a veritable paradise in which to hide one’s self away from the world.

Taking a hansom and returning to the steamer, the doctor stood on deck watching the sailors depositing the luggage in the hold, and thinking what that voyage might mean in the lives of many of the passengers.

As this thought sprang up, he looked toward the dock, and saw three persons in tourist garb, hastily approaching the gangplank, then in course of being hauled on deck.

Their faces were familiar. They were Donald and Dainty Laure, with Herr Schwatka, and they came hastily on board, and disappeared in the deck cabins allotted to them.

This was the beginning of a new act, not anticipated by the doctor, in the drama of which, so far, he had been a spectator.

“What will be the end of it?” was his mental query.

Here in the Southern hemisphere, with the clearly defined outline of majestic scenery, the great “Arab” again began slowly to swing away from her moorings out into the boundless ocean, soon to glide over its bosom, as swiftly as a swan in its native lake.

Hardly a ripple disturbed the waters, and the air kissed the cheek like the touch of an angel’s wing.

Here, where “The heavens are telling the glory of God,” and the Southern Cross and the eye of night throw out a light unequalled in our Northern hemisphere, to simply live is a delight.

That great deck seemed unnecessary for those quiet waters, but there are times when the sea changes its moods with a suddenness like that of Southern storms in the upland regions of Africa, where the whirlwinds of dust come with unexpected fury. Those tropical winds, on both land and sea, are treacherous and capricious.

To attempt to describe a sea-voyage from Africa to England, through the summer voyage of the world, is like attempting to describe a dream that had been one long, sweet draught of perfect happiness, where the spirit seemed to go wherever it willed, and was in company with people with whom it felt in harmony.

There are usually musicians, or accomplished people aboard, who have no thought of hiding their light under a bushel, but who cheerfully contribute to the entertainment of their fellow passengers.

To Dainty Laure what would not this experience have been, had her heart been at rest. But she looked at the new world with strange experiences distracting her soul, and the unwonted surroundings made her condition but more pitiful.

Unable to control the harassing conditions of her life, she was like a sick, suffering creature denied the quiet and rest needed for recovery. In her full strength, and with her former capacity for enjoyment, she would have taken a child’s delight in change.

But now, removed from her accustomed places, kept by circumstances from putting her trust for the future where her heart prompted, and unable to feel toward Donald the reliance of love, she was never at rest.

Often she would sit long by the side of the doctor, not saying a word. He was the one man she knew well whose presence satisfied her. The doctor never questioned her, for the agony of her spirit was written on her face, which grew sadder day by day. She knew not how to wear a mask.

Chapter Twenty Five.The End of the Voyage.But Dainty was not the only uneasy passenger among our acquaintances; Donald was no less discomfited. The knowledge of his past embittered even his love for Dainty—a love to which he was true. And yet, when in any way we wrong the loved, are we true? No—rather false. For real love will deny itself for the sake of the beloved.He had no suspicion of the tender feelings that existed between his friend and the woman he called wife. The hidden entanglements of his own life blinded him to all other convictions. What solitary lives were these two living! Watched and harassed, they were not as happy as the hard-worked, gasping stoker, who came up from below, like a Vulcan from his fiery forge, to get a breath of the stifling equatorial air.One hot, lazy afternoon, just after tiffin, Donald and Herr Schwatka were walking on deck, when the latter asked:“What has become of Kildare?”“Oh, he has set his scheme afloat, and is sailing along. The great gold mining company is now in popular favour. By the by, he compliments the doctor on being the best Poker player, but one, on the Fields.”“And what may be the name of his superior?”“Why, Major Kildare, of course. He thinks Doctor Fox the best fellow in the country. I suppose you know that the Major accepted his invitation to call and take his revenge, and won back all his money, and immediately went out on the market and bought the finest tiger skin he could find, and hung it in his office. So that is why there is one man in Africa better than the doctor in playing the little game of Poker.”“That is a matter of opinion,” said Schwatka, sarcastically; as he strolled away, Donald joined the doctor, who was sitting on deck by Dainty’s side, and offered him a cigar. The day was lovely. Not a ripple disturbed the surface of the ocean.“Laure,” said the doctor, “do you know what became of that diamond which the detectives couldn’t find, and which was hidden in the Bushman’s eye?”Donald’s cigar fell from his mouth, and he seemed to shrivel up in his chair. “If you don’t,” continued the doctor, as coolly as if he had asked the time of day, “I do.”“You!” gasped Donald.“Yes. I believe it is in a mail bag on board this very steamer.”“Impossible!” ejaculated Donald.“Not at all. In fact, quite probable,” said the doctor, showing him the postal order, and then related his interview with Bela.Donald was stunned, and when the doctor handed him the order for recovery of the package on his arrival in London, the circumstance did not tend to restore calm.Donald hesitated at first, but his fingers finally closed over the bit of paper that made him again owner of the diamond. After looking it over, he turned to Dainty and said:“I think the diamond belongs to you. If it were not now on its way to England through your influence, I would not be sitting here. I will endorse this order, so that you will own the diamond.”He did so, and eventually the gem came into the possession of Dainty.Late in the afternoon of the nineteenth day out, the steamer anchored in the bay of Plymouth. A tender, with relatives and friends of the passengers aboard, came out to meet and take them ashore.In the gathering gloom the faces of those on board the “Arab” were not discernible, but the outline of the forms of three people could be seen, standing silently apart from the crowd at the gangway. Names were called out, and greeted with hearty, joyous words of recognition. Many stood waiting to disembark as soon as the signal was given. Suddenly a voice called out:“If Mr Donald Laure is on board, he will please land here, as his wife, from Scotland, is waiting to receive him!”Not a sound was heard from those on deck. All stood as silent as ghosts in the gathering mist.On hearing those words, Herr Schwatka looked at Dainty, who stood rooted to the spot, and putting his arm around her supported her firmly and tenderly, as he uttered three words:“Mine at last!”Donald turned to Dainty with a face like death, but only to see her led away from him upheld by the arm of Herr Schwatka. With a slow step, like that of a man walking to his doom, he disappeared down the gangplank to meet the “wife from Scotland!”We know not for what race we are preparing. Fate holds the leading horses in her hands. But sooner or later we must drive.In a certain copy of the “Bloemfontein Gazette” is the following notice.Married.Fox-Darcy.—At the residence of the bride’s brother, Kimberley, South Africa, May 22, 18—Miss Kate Darcy and C.A. Fox, M.D. New York City papers please copy.

But Dainty was not the only uneasy passenger among our acquaintances; Donald was no less discomfited. The knowledge of his past embittered even his love for Dainty—a love to which he was true. And yet, when in any way we wrong the loved, are we true? No—rather false. For real love will deny itself for the sake of the beloved.

He had no suspicion of the tender feelings that existed between his friend and the woman he called wife. The hidden entanglements of his own life blinded him to all other convictions. What solitary lives were these two living! Watched and harassed, they were not as happy as the hard-worked, gasping stoker, who came up from below, like a Vulcan from his fiery forge, to get a breath of the stifling equatorial air.

One hot, lazy afternoon, just after tiffin, Donald and Herr Schwatka were walking on deck, when the latter asked:

“What has become of Kildare?”

“Oh, he has set his scheme afloat, and is sailing along. The great gold mining company is now in popular favour. By the by, he compliments the doctor on being the best Poker player, but one, on the Fields.”

“And what may be the name of his superior?”

“Why, Major Kildare, of course. He thinks Doctor Fox the best fellow in the country. I suppose you know that the Major accepted his invitation to call and take his revenge, and won back all his money, and immediately went out on the market and bought the finest tiger skin he could find, and hung it in his office. So that is why there is one man in Africa better than the doctor in playing the little game of Poker.”

“That is a matter of opinion,” said Schwatka, sarcastically; as he strolled away, Donald joined the doctor, who was sitting on deck by Dainty’s side, and offered him a cigar. The day was lovely. Not a ripple disturbed the surface of the ocean.

“Laure,” said the doctor, “do you know what became of that diamond which the detectives couldn’t find, and which was hidden in the Bushman’s eye?”

Donald’s cigar fell from his mouth, and he seemed to shrivel up in his chair. “If you don’t,” continued the doctor, as coolly as if he had asked the time of day, “I do.”

“You!” gasped Donald.

“Yes. I believe it is in a mail bag on board this very steamer.”

“Impossible!” ejaculated Donald.

“Not at all. In fact, quite probable,” said the doctor, showing him the postal order, and then related his interview with Bela.

Donald was stunned, and when the doctor handed him the order for recovery of the package on his arrival in London, the circumstance did not tend to restore calm.

Donald hesitated at first, but his fingers finally closed over the bit of paper that made him again owner of the diamond. After looking it over, he turned to Dainty and said:

“I think the diamond belongs to you. If it were not now on its way to England through your influence, I would not be sitting here. I will endorse this order, so that you will own the diamond.”

He did so, and eventually the gem came into the possession of Dainty.

Late in the afternoon of the nineteenth day out, the steamer anchored in the bay of Plymouth. A tender, with relatives and friends of the passengers aboard, came out to meet and take them ashore.

In the gathering gloom the faces of those on board the “Arab” were not discernible, but the outline of the forms of three people could be seen, standing silently apart from the crowd at the gangway. Names were called out, and greeted with hearty, joyous words of recognition. Many stood waiting to disembark as soon as the signal was given. Suddenly a voice called out:

“If Mr Donald Laure is on board, he will please land here, as his wife, from Scotland, is waiting to receive him!”

Not a sound was heard from those on deck. All stood as silent as ghosts in the gathering mist.

On hearing those words, Herr Schwatka looked at Dainty, who stood rooted to the spot, and putting his arm around her supported her firmly and tenderly, as he uttered three words:

“Mine at last!”

Donald turned to Dainty with a face like death, but only to see her led away from him upheld by the arm of Herr Schwatka. With a slow step, like that of a man walking to his doom, he disappeared down the gangplank to meet the “wife from Scotland!”

We know not for what race we are preparing. Fate holds the leading horses in her hands. But sooner or later we must drive.

In a certain copy of the “Bloemfontein Gazette” is the following notice.

Fox-Darcy.—At the residence of the bride’s brother, Kimberley, South Africa, May 22, 18—Miss Kate Darcy and C.A. Fox, M.D. New York City papers please copy.

Back to Index Next