The farmhouse of Mr. Carwell was a substantial brick building, surrounded by barns and yards, and flanked by five or six hayricks, the whole being girdled by elm-trees. Their foliage now was of a mixed yellow and red as the year drew to winter. On all sides stretched the stubble fields, tawny in hue, save those which, having already been ploughed, presented patches of dark red earth. Sleek cows wandered in some meadows, horses grazed in others, pigs and fowl shared the farmyard, rooting and scratching amid the straw, pigeons whirled aloft in the cold blue of the sky, or cooed round the eaves of the thatched stable. The homestead wore an air of comfort and peace, in keeping with the quiet religious spirit of its owner. In recognition of the plenty which filled its walls, Carwell had written over the door the Hebrew word, "Bethdagon," which signifies the "House of corn."
In this Goshen Rachel ruled supreme. Her mother had passed away these many years, and she held the keys of the household. Demure, in a grey gown and close cap, lightfooted and ever watchful, she moved like a Puritan fairy in the home. The girl was a born housekeeper, and in her little kingdom affairs were conducted with a wonderful and rare combination of economy and cheerfulness. Carwell knew that some day she would marry--at present circumstances pointed to Herbert Mayne--and he often wondered how he would be able to manage without his clever, bright-eyed Rachel. Her departure would be a loss not easy to replace. Household blessings like this maiden do not grow on every bush.
But Rachel was not bright-eyed on this particular day. She was sorely afraid lest her cousin Jack should be committed for trial on a charge of murder. She was very fond of Jack, and although she disapproved of his harum-scarum sailorly ways, she could not believe him guilty of so terrible a crime. As she attended to her household duties, her heart was heavy within her, and several times she went to the door in the hope of seeing her father returning with news. But for Carwell's express wish, she would have gone to the court herself.
At last, shortly before the mid-day meal, she caught sight of the old-fashioned trap turning in by the distant gate. She saw that it contained three people, and ran to meet it, in the hope that Jack having been acquitted, her father was bringing him home. As the vehicle came nearer, Rachel made out one of the trio to be a woman. She wondered who this third person could be. She was not left long in doubt.
"Here, Rachel, lass," called out the farmer, jovially, "your cousin is a free man again; and here is a lady to see you."
"Bithiah!" gasped Rachel, turning white. She was too much startled to express her amazement.
"Ioé," said the girl, jumping down and throwing her arms round Rachel's neck; "but not Bithiah any more. I am Tera of Koiau. Call me so."
"You are not dead!"
"Dead!" cried Jack, with a joyful laugh, "not she! Tera's still flesh and blood, and as pretty as ever. Don't look so scared, Cousin Rachel. She's no ghost."
"You mustn't faint, lass," said Carwell, with rough good nature. "Tera is here, to stay until she marries Jack. Take her into the house, and set her at the table. She'll eat well, I warrant," and the farmer led away the horse with a jolly laugh.
"What does it all mean?" asked Rachel, still astonished. She was not a weak girl, else she would have fainted at the sudden re-appearance of Tera.
"It's a long story," cried Finland. "Tera will tell it to you."
Rachel turned and kissed her cousin. "Oh, Jack, I'm so glad you are free. I thought they would---- Oh, never mind; what does it all matter now? But as Tera is alive, who is the dead girl we buried?"
"A gipsy called Zara."
"And who killed her?"
"No one knows. That's a new job for Chard. Come, Rachel, take us inside, I'm as hungry as a beach-comber. And Tera looks as though she could eat a bit, too."
"Come in, dear," said Rachel, drawing Tera towards the house; "I am simply dying to hear what all this means."
Shortly afterwards, in accordance with the manner of the sex, the two girls retired to Rachel's room to exchange confidences. Jack was left alone, and stood on the front door-step, whistling. He was in the highest spirits, and no wonder. Was he not acquitted of a dangerous charge, engaged to marry Tera with the full consent of his uncle, part owner of a ship after his own heart, and shortly sailing for the South Seas, which he loved far more than his native land? The future was bright and assured, and Finland, although not as a rule devotionally inclined, breathed a prayer of thankfulness for his good fortune. There was but one thing doubtful in his mind. Would his uncle give him the money he required? As he debated the question, Farmer Carwell came round the corner of the house, ready for dinner. Jack, who was prompt in all his actions, broached the subject there and then.
"Uncle," he said, as the old man took a seat in his armchair, "about this five hundred--can you let me have it?"
Carwell was not a mean man, but he was accustomed always to approach with due caution anything in the nature of a financial transaction; therefore he did not open his heart and hand so readily as Jack had expected.
"That requires some consideration, my lad," he said after a pause; "money is harder to get than to give."
"You have surely had plenty of time to consider the matter, uncle?--because, I do not ask you to give me the money, but to lend it to me. I'll pay it back with interest--the loan will be as good a thing for you as for me."
"H'm. You see, you offer no security."
"Isn't my word enough security?" cried Jack, flushing. "I am your own sister's son; it is not likely I would swindle you."
"Softly, my lad. I'm not accusing you of dishonesty; but I never stretch out my hand farther than I can draw it back. You want five hundred pounds; for use in connection with your ship, isn't it?"
"Yes; the purchase of her has taken all the money I got for the pearls, and all the skipper's savings to boot. We want more men; we can easily get them at Grimleigh. She must be provisioned, too, and that takes a lot of cash. Then a hundred or so in hand for trading purposes when we reach the South Seas. I can't make bricks without straw."
"What sort of trading will you do?"
"Oh, copra, and blackbirding," replied Finland, carelessly.
"I'm a plain country farmer," said Carwell, smiling, "and I don't understand these terms you bring from your new world. What is copra?"
"The dried kernel of the cocoa-nut. It is used for oil-making, and fetches a good price, especially if the Kanakas don't water it."
"And blackbirding, what is that?"
Jack laughed and looked queerly at the old man. It was not easy for him to answer this question without offending his uncle's prejudices. However, he skirted round it, and got out of danger as best he could.
"Blackbirding," he said cautiously--"well, you see, we sail for the Solomons or the New Hebrides, and pick up natives to work on the plantations on the more civilized islands. They are well looked after and get good pay; so after a few years they go back to their own land set up for life."
"Do the missionaries approve of this system?"
"Oh yes. It brings savages from out-of-the-way islands into the circle of Christianity, and then they can spread the Gospel on their own account."
"They are not slaves, these natives?--they are paid?"
"Paid in what we call trade," replied Jack. "They hire themselves out for three years as a rule, and when their service is ended we take them back again, with the value of what they have earned in goods. Oh, it's square enough. The Australian Government appoints agents to see that all is above board."
"Does it pay?"
"You bet, uncle--pays well. Let me have that five hundred, and I'll soon give it to you again."
"I must take a week to think over it," said Carwell, still unconvinced.
Finland bit his lip, and very nearly committed the indiscretion of rapping out a nautical oath. But as, in that religious household, such language would at once have put an end to all chances of his getting the money, he was wise enough to restrain himself.
Shortly after this, Rachel arrived with Tera, in full possession of the whole story. The recital of it had excited her not a little, and during dinner she talked of nothing else.
"I suppose you will go back with Jack to your own island," she said.
"Yes," replied Tera, "as soon as we are married by Mr. Johnson."
"Johnson? Oh! he won't marry us," said Jack, laughing. "I don't see how you can expect him to, Tera."
"He is a minister."
"He is also a man, my dear," observed Rachel; "and he is in love with you."
"Let us trust that our pastor will be sensible," said Carwell, seriously; "now that his ward has reappeared, he is relieved from a grave danger."
"Oh, Miss Arnott relieved him of that before," said Rachel, with a trifle of feminine spite; "indeed, he ought to marry her for all she has done for him."
"It would be a good thing for Bethgamul," replied her father, reflectively, "for Miss Arnott is wealthy. If she became the wife of our pastor she could do much good with her money."
"She is too old to marry my guardian," said Tera, doubtfully.
"What does her age matter, child? She has a beautiful soul. A minister should not dwell unduly on the outward graces of womanhood."
Jack looked at Tera's pretty face and laughed. Undeniably it was her comeliness that had attracted the minister, not her soul. He was about to make a remark to this effect, when the sound of wheels was heard, and the excited accents of a man with a lisp. Carwell went to the door, and found Inspector Chard and Mr. Moss descending from a trap.
"My dear thir," cried the little Hebrew, running up with outstretched hands, "ith Mithter Finland here? Ith that girl with him? I've come about them pearlth."
"Mr. Moss wants to know if the sale was quite regular," explained Mr. Chard, as the boy came up to take his horse; "so I brought him here to set his mind at rest."
"Come in, come in," said Carwell, hospitably. "Tera and Jack can answer for themselves. Have you had dinner?"
"No; I shall be glad of some."
"I can't eat a mouthful until I know about the pearlth," said Moss, fussing into the house. "Oh, Mr. Finland, here you are. What about the pearlth?"
"Well, what about them?" asked Jack, calmly.
"Ith all right, the thale, ithn't it? You had a right to thell them?"
"This lady will tell you that I had. The pearls were her property."
"Mith! mith!" said the Jew, fluttering up to Tera, "did you give the pearlth to Mithter Finland?"
"Yes. I asked him to sell them."
"They were your own pearlth?"
"My own pearls. I received them from my father, Buli, the High-Chief." Moss leered and rubbed one fat hand against the other.
"I should like to do bithness with your father, mith. So that thale ith all right?"
"It is all right," agreed Tera, gravely; "you gave two thousand pounds for the pearls, and they belong to you."
"Ah!" said the Hebrew, with relief, "that ith tho. Well, mith and mithter Finland, I give you one pieth of advith. Don't you thell such beautiful pearlth tho cheap again. And now," he added, trotting towards the dinner-table, "I can eat a morthel."
While this matter was being settled. Chard was talking to Rachel about the cypher letter, and the cunning way in which Jacob Shackel had bamboozled him.
"The old rascal wanted to make a fine effect in court, of course," said he, laughing, "for he might as well have told me at the time that the young lady was alive. I wish I had known the cypher myself. I must get Finland to show it to me."
"I can do that," answered Rachel, fishing in her pocket for a pencil, "for it was I who taught Jack the cypher. He finds it useful in many ways in business. But as he is going to the South Seas, I can tell it to you. Do you know the game of noughts and crosses and criss-cross, Mr. Chard?"
"What do you mean?" asked the inspector.
"I'll show you. Here is a piece of paper. Observe now." And Rachel drew two diagrams, which she proceeded to fill up with letters.
key_to_codeKey to the Code, page 202
"There is the key to the thing," she said. "You simply put an angle for each letter, with a dot for the right-hand one. Have you the letter?"
"Here it is. I would not give it to Shackel."
Rachel read it. "It means, 'Tell Tera to show up; arrested for her murder--Jack.' Now, the first word is 'tell,' and you write it this way;" and she proceeded to explain. "You see theTis in the top angle of the criss-cross; and as it is the right-hand letter, you must place a dot so." She placed a dot in the top angle of the diagonal figure. "Theeis formed in the right-hand top angle of the noughts. Lastly, the twol's are in the place under it on the right-hand side. Now look at the whole word, and write the rest of the message yourself."
Chard took the word "Jack," and, gradually grasping the idea, wrote it down in the characters.
"By Jove, it's very neat!" he said admiringly.
"And quite simple," said Rachel, rising. "Now you'd really better have some dinner, Mr. Chard."
"Thank you, I will. But this cypher reminds me of the arrow-headed Assyrian letters."
"Rather more like Hebrew characters," said Carwell, joining them. "I wonder you did not know of it. Inspector. It is in common use."
"It hasn't come my way, then," laughed Chard, drawing his chair to the table, where already Moss was making up for lost time.
During the meal Zara's murder was the sole topic. It would seem that the whole case would have to be re-sifted. The old trial had ended in the discovery that Tera had not been murdered at all. The new one would have to start on fresh premises altogether; a fresh motive would, of course, have to be sought.
"She said nothing to you likely to lead to the identification of the assassin?" said the inspector, addressing Tera.
"I don't know, Mr. Chard. She said her errand was to meet her husband in the neighbourhood; but from the way in which she spoke, I don't think she expected him to be very well pleased to see her."
"Did she mention his name?"
"No, she did not."
"I knew the girl Zara," said Jack unexpectedly; "she was always about with Slade."
"Slade?" repeated Chard, drawing his brows together; "indeed, is----"
Before he could finish his speech, Tera, who had been looking idly at the door, started to her feet with an exclamation. With one accord they all followed her gaze, for the expression on her face was one of amazement.
In the doorway stood a tall, dark-skinned man, dressed in a badly fitting suit of clothes. He was staring hard at Tera. She ran forward and seized his hand.
"Tolai!" she cried, and then uttered something in her native tongue. The man smiled, nodded, and bowed himself to the ground. In slavish submission he kissed her feet. He was a Polynesian.
The company gathered under Farmer Carwell's hospitable roof were naturally amazed at the unexpected appearance of Tera's countryman. Jack, who, of course, had been in Koiau, recognized him at once as one of the smaller chiefs, and came forward to salute him. So pleased was Tolai at being addressed in his native tongue, that he insisted upon rubbing noses with Finland, much to the amusement of Rachel and her father.
"You good man. You savvy me," said Tolai, in his broken English. "I glad see you, Jacky. Tera here, she glad see me."
"I am astonished to see you," said Tera, frowning somewhat. "What has brought you here?"
"Viara--she sent me all-e-same."
"My mother?" said the girl, looking at Tolai anxiously. "Why?"
"Too much devil in Koiau," replied the Polynesian, "no help big chief. Viara, she say you go Misi Johnson. Tolai he no shamed, he go all-e-same, and--dat is----" Here the native's stock of English gave out, and he slid into a long explanation in his own vernacular.
Both Jack and Tera listened attentively.
"What is he talking about?" asked the inspector, curiously.
Tera explained. It seemed that her uncle Niga had revolted against his brother Buli, and there was trouble in the island. Buli wished his followers to become converts to Christianity, whereas Niga, as the head of the heathen party, desired to drive the missionaries from the island. Viara, the wife of Buli and mother of Tera, had sent Tolai to England to see Johnson, and warn him of the difficulties Tera might expect to meet with on her return. Tolai had embarked on a fruit schooner trading to Sydney, and from that port he had worked his way to London before the mast. Buli had given him Shackel's address. Arrived there, the captain's sister, having provided him with money, sent him off to Grimleigh in quest of Johnson. He had been told that Tera, after the trial, had gone on to Carwell's, and thus he had presented himself at the door.
"But there is something else," said Jack, when Tera had told all this to the company. "I can see it in the Kanaka's eye."
Tera of course agreed with Jack, and began to question Tolai anew. It was soon evident that Finland was right. The man was keeping something back. But in spite of all Tera's commands he refused to tell it to any one but Mr. Johnson. On learning this, Tera said she would take him to the minister herself, and set out there and then. Chard took the opportunity of putting a few questions to Pharaoh Lee touching his relations with Zara; and Moss, at rest in his mind about the pearls, took his departure from Poldew.
"Bring back the man to stay here," said Carwell to Tera; "as a native he may find difficulty in getting a bed in Poldew."
"Thank you, Mr. Carwell, I will."
When they arrived at Mr. Johnson's house, the minister was surprised to see Tera, but he was still more surprised at the sight of Tolai. He spoke the native tongue fluently, and Tolai asked to see him alone. So the preacher sent Tera into the kitchen with his mother for company. In half an hour's time he joined them and gave the Polynesian a good meal. The minister was pale and anxious. It was evident that Tolai's message had been an alarming one.
"What is the matter?" Tera asked at once.
"Nothing; nothing. I have nothing to tell you," rejoined Johnson, and he escaped back to the study, leaving Tolai eating.
But Tera was not to be put off in this way. She knew that there was something serious the matter, and, determined to learn what it was, she followed her guardian into the study. As she closed the door, and came forward with a frown on her handsome face, Johnson looked at her apprehensively, and made a gesture of refusal. This Tera disregarded altogether.
"You do not wish to tell me about Tolai," she said in sharper tones than were usual with her, "but I must know, Misi. It is only fair that I should."
"I cannot tell you now, Bithiah. Later on I may do so."
"Is it a message from my mother?"
"Yes, to me. I am not to inform you until I think fit. The time has not yet come."
"Is the Great Chief dead?"
"Buli? God forbid! No; he is well, and Viara also. Up to the present Niga has not succeeded in destroying our infant church. Tera," he added earnestly, "do not frown on me, my child. You know I have your welfare at heart. When possible, I will let you know Viara's message. At present, let me tell you there is nothing that need disquiet you."
Tera looked at her guardian keenly, and apparently her distrust passed away. "You are a good man, Misi. I place my heart in your hand. And now I wish you to do something for me."
"What is it?" asked Johnson, resting his aching head on his hand.
"I wish you to marry me to Jack!"
"No, no, I cannot do that. You ask me too much."
"Misi!" Tera knelt down beside Johnson and seized his hand, which trembled in her grasp. "You must be brave as you are good. I was wrong to run away as I did and give you pain, but I feared you would part me from Jack. I love him, and I cannot love you. We wish to sail next week for the South Seas--for my own island--and we must be married before we go. You are my friend--my guardian; you will surely do me this last kindness."
Johnson groaned. Curious to say, since Tera had returned, he found that his love was not so strong as it had been. Nevertheless, he felt a pang at giving her to another man. That his should be the hand to make them one was too much to ask. He feared it was beyond his strength. But the perils which he had escaped had rendered him grateful to God for the protection vouchsafed him. He felt that he should exercise some self-denial--make some sacrifice. Therefore, he made up his mind to curb this love which overwhelmed his soul, and since he could not gain Tera for himself, to place her under the protection of a husband who would make her happy and protect her from harm. In Koiau it would be well that Tera should marry a Christian, for with her own influence, and that of her European husband, they might hope to do much for the people.
"I will do what you wish," he said, in a low voice, "I will marry you to Finland in Bethgamul."
Tera uttered an exclamation of joy, and kissed the hand she held. He winced at that soft touch. The girl turned to go, but he stopped her before she could reach the door.
"Take Tolai with you," he said gently.
"Ioé! Mr. Carwell told me to bring him back."
"Never go anywhere without Tolai."
"Not even when I go with Jack?"
"Not even then," said Johnson, decisively. "Wherever you go, Tolai must be by your side. It is Viara's wish."
"I will obey. But why this protection, Misi?"
"That you shall know later. At present, be content to learn that Viara wishes you to be attended constantly by Tolai. He was sent to me for that purpose. Now go, my dear. We shall meet again soon."
When Tera left the room, Johnson felt a strange calm stealing over him. His mad passion seemed to be wearing itself out by its own violence. No longer did he feel despair when Tera left his side, and he hoped that when called upon to fulfil his projected sacrifice he would be able to do it with calmness and dignity. It was with a feeling of relief to him that his malady of the heart was passing away. Soon he would be a free man; would be able to attend to his religious duties as of yore unhindered by the storm and stress of a hopeless love. He would return to his studies, to his old meditative life. But Miss Arnott? As the thought of her entered his mind, Johnson recalled his debts and the burden of gratitude which she had placed on his shoulders. Unless he could discharge that claim, by repaying the money she had lent him--and Johnson knew not where to obtain so large a sum--he feared the discharge would have to take the form of marriage. The idea dismayed him, still it was not so unpalatable to him as it had been.
At this point his meditations were interrupted by the appearance of Mrs. Slade, who was ushered in by his mother. The poor little woman's black eyes were red with weeping, and she seemed to be greatly agitated. Terror struck at Johnson's heart; for so many ills had befallen him that he quite expected more to follow. The sight of Mrs. Slade in this tearful condition made him fear she was a messenger of evil.
"What is the matter?" he asked, rising nervously when they were alone.
"Oh, sir," cried Mrs. Slade, dropping limply into a chair, "I know you ain't no parson of mine, as I was brought up in the Church of England. But you're the only parson that I can come to for advice. You are her friend, you know."
"Whose friend?"
"That Bithiah--Tera--oh, I don't know what her heathen name is, but she's a minx if ever there was one."
"Mrs. Slade, I cannot hear Bithiah spoken of like this. Why do you cry? What have you to urge against her?"
"Jeremiah!" said Mrs. Slade, and began to weep anew.
"Your husband?" said Johnson, beginning to feel impatient--for after all she did not belong to Bethgamul; "what of him?"
"He's a beast!"
"Did you come here to tell me that? I must confess I take no interest in your domestic affairs, Mrs. Slade."
The little woman's eyes began to glitter with ominous fire. "Now don't you be nasty, sir. It's all your fault."
"What is all my fault?"
"Jeremiah's goings on. Why did you bring that horrid nigger girl, as isn't respectable, to this place, with her dirty heathen ways? I thought it was Zara Lovell," lamented Mrs. Slade, "as he was after. But she's dead, they tell me--killed in mistake for your heathen. But it's not Zara, it never was her--though I've called her all the names I could lay my tongue to." Mrs. Slade's voice jumped an octave and she shook with rage. "It's your Bithiah!"
"What do you mean?" cried the minister, now really angry. "Bithiah is engaged to marry Finland. Do you dare to----"
"Oh, I know my own knowing, sir," interrupted Mrs. Slade, tossing her head. "A nice wife Mr. Finland will get. She carries on with my Jeremiah. Oh yes, she does! I dare say she ran away first, and he went up to London to meet her."
"Slade went to London at my request, on my business."
"I dare say. You're in the plot, too. You want Jeremiah to run away with that girl. But he shan't--he shan't! I'll pull her hair out!"
Johnson could not forbear a smile. The idea of coupling Tera with the lanky red-haired policeman seemed too absurd. "Really, Mrs. Slade," he exclaimed, with as much composure as he could command, "you're quite wrong. Bithiah does not know your---- Ah!" the preacher jumped, "what is that?"
Mrs. Slade had stronger nerves, and did not jump, but she also turned towards the window. "It's one of them dratted gipsies," said she, in an acidulated voice. "Pharaoh Lee, what do you mean by poking your nose into private business?"
"May I come in, rye?" said he--for it was indeed Pharaoh who stood in the window--Pharaoh, haggard and fierce-looking. "I want to speak to you--and to her."
"Well, I'm sure," gasped Jemima; "the impertinence!"
"I am engaged just now, Lee," said the minister, annoyed at the man's intrusion; "and may I remind you that in civilized communities visitors usually enter by the door."
"I'm sorry, rye, but I came in the easiest way I could." Lee stepped into the room. "I followed this woman up here."
"Woman yourself, fellow! How dare you?"
"Why did you follow her?" asked the preacher, to prevent a quarrel.
"To ask her about Zara."
"What do I know of your dirt?" said Mrs. Slade, disdainfully.
"Your husband knows about her, if you don't," retorted Pharaoh. "But why do I say your husband? As I live, I believe Slade is the husband of Zara, and you----"
"I'll scratch your face if you call me names," shrieked Mrs. Slade. "Jeremiah's my husband. I have my marriage lines to prove it. I'm a respectable woman; none o' yer gipsy trash."
"Your husband was in love with Zara a year ago!"
"That's a lie," contradicted the woman. "I thought he was, but he wasn't. I've just found out that it was Mr. Johnson's nigger girl he was after, and I've come up to tell him so. Ay, and she was sweet on him, too!"
"Impossible; ridiculous!"
"I tell you she was, sir!"
"Hold your tongue," cried Lee, ferociously. "Slade was in love with Zara. I believe he married her first and you afterwards. I have no doubt he murdered her to conceal that first marriage."
Johnson uttered an exclamation, and Mrs. Slade grew a trifle pale. "It ain't true," she said vehemently; "you know it ain't. It was this Bithiah girl, not Zara. Why did she give him one of her pearls if it wasn't? Look here!"
The woman fished a pearl out of a scrap of newspaper and held it up. "I found this in Slade's box!"
"A pearl?" cried Pharaoh, snatching it; "then this proves his guilt. Tera said to-day in court that she gave a pearl to Zara in exchange for her dress. I believe Slade killed Zara and took this pearl from her dead body!"
While these things were taking place in Mr. Johnson's study, Tera, with Tolai in attendance, returned to Farmer Carwell's. As she had promised her guardian to accept his statement as sufficient for the moment, she made no attempt to question Tolai. The conversation was quite impersonal, and dealt generally with island matters. There were friends and relatives to be inquired after: all sorts of things to ask about--the new banana plantations, for instance; if the old priest of Lomangatini was still alive; and what sort of goods Buli was getting from the traders in return for his copra. To all these Tolai replied in the native tongue. In this grey island of the west, these dusky children of the underworld delighted to talk of their tropical home. The girl was sick with nostalgia.
When again would she see the shining spaces of the blue seas, the curve of the white beaches, the lines of brown thatched houses, and the palms bending their graceful heads as the trade-winds hummed in the vault of heaven? Jack and she were going home--yes, to their true home--as soon as he could get the wherewithal from his uncle. But already he had made known to her the difficulty there was in obtaining it; and Tera resolved that if he failed, she would try what her blandishments would do. She was sick with the yearning to fly south to the lands of eternal summer, and it was not by mere want of money she was going to be prevented if she could help it.
"Are you a Christian, Tolai?" asked the girl, as they reached the brow of the hill above Grimleigh: she spoke in their own tongue.
"Yes, I am a Christian. Misi Brand he taught me to pray good."
"Misi Brand is in this town. Have you seen him?"
"No. I wish to see him, too. Viara likes that Misi; she asked me to speak to him about coming back to Koiau."
At this moment Tera raised her eyes, to see a tall black figure trudging towards them in the dust. It was mere coincidence that the figure proved to be that of the very man they were speaking of. She uttered an exclamation of surprise, and this attracted the attention of Korah, who was walking with bent head. As soon as he recognized Tera, he came swooping down like a crow, and held his arms wide as though to embrace her.
"My child! my sister!" he cried in English. "I heard of your wondrous resurrection from the dead. I have just been in quest of you at Farmer Car----" Here his eyes fell on the Polynesian. "Tolai!" he cried, with a sudden note of fear in his voice; "it cannot be Tolai!"
"Yes. He comes from Viara," said Tera; "but speak to him in our own tongue, Misi. He knows little English."
"Tolai," repeated Brand, talking native, "what brings you here, Tolai?"
"Buli and Viara they wish Tera to return," replied the savage. "I come in a big ship for her."
"Did Viara give you a message for me?"
"No. She told me nothing but that you come back to Koiau."
Brand looked at once relieved and disappointed. "What of Niga?" he said, with a glance at Tera.
"Niga fights against the big chief, Misi. Niga is a bad man."
"We must convert him," murmured Brand, rather to himself than to Tolai. "How can we expect a worshipper of blood-stained idols to be godly?" He looked at the dark-skinned native again, and rather uneasily. "I will speak with you again, Tolai," he said, with a gesture of dismissal. Then turning to Tera, "How glad I am to see you are still alive, my child!"
"I am well, Misi," replied Tera, with a toss of her dainty head, "and I am happy. I go soon to Koiau, and Jack with me."
Brand shook his head. "You must not marry that godless sailor."
"I marry Jack!" said Tera, her nostrils dilating; "he is a good man and beautiful. You have no right to speak to me so."
"Let me remind you, child, that I am your guardian."
"Mr. Johnson is my guardian!"
"He was; but your father, Buli, sent me to England to take charge of you. Therefore, I am your guardian now, and I intend to take you with me back to Koiau on the first ship I can get."
"No," said Tera, loudly, "you shall not. I will not go with you. Soon I am to marry Jack in Bethgamul. Mr. Johnson himself will marry us. Then we shall sail away in theDayspringfrom Grimleigh."
"You shall not do that if I can help it," said Brand, sternly.
Tera laughed and snapped her fingers. "I care not," she said. "It was from you and Mr. Johnson I ran away. Now you can do nothing; for Mr. Johnson says I am to marry Jack, and Mr. Carwell is quite pleased. If you come between us, Jack will kill you. You talk big! Poof!"
Brand frowned. He knew very well that he had no real power, and, as Tera phrased it, "talked big." Finland was a determined young fellow, and as he had Johnson and Carwell on his side, it would be difficult to prevent his marrying Tera, in spite of all protest. Then, if Brand returned to Koiau, where was his interest? There was nothing to be gained by stern measures. Tera's position was too strong to be shaken; therefore, Korah, with a smile that sat ill on his rugged face, altered his tone considerably.
"You are a wilful girl, Bithiah, and I suppose you must have your way; but what will Buli say to your taking a white husband?"
"The great chief will be pleased," replied Tera, seriously. "He loves the haolis" (white men), "and with Jack I can do great things in Koiau."
"Let us hope so, child. So Captain Shackel is taking his schooner to the island. I will ask him for a passage."
"Oh yes, Misi. Let us all go. Tolai, Jack, you, and I."
"I forgot Tolai for the moment," said Brand, laying his hand on the man's shoulder. "Bithiah, you can return to Brother Carwell. Rachel is expecting you. Tolai, come with me."
"No, Misi. Me go with Tera."
"You can return later. She does not require you now. We are in England, you must remember--she is perfectly safe alone."
"I no savvy that, all e-same, Misi."
Korah looked sharply at Tolai, seeing that there was some reason for this obstinacy. But the Polynesian's face was blank of expression; and the missionary dropped the subject.
"Where are you staying?" he asked.
"Tolai stays with me at Mr. Carwell's," said Tera.
"Brother Carwell is truly hospitable," said Korah; "well may his house be called 'Bethdagon.' Well, I shall see you both soon again. I have many things to say to Tolai about Viara and Buli, but I have no time to talk now. Toefua" (farewell).
"Toefua, Misi."
With a wave of his hand Brand walked in the direction of Grimleigh, while Tera and her escort pursued their way to Bethdagon.
Here the girl found Jack impatiently waiting for her at the gate. They strolled up the path side by side.
"We need not go into the house yet," said Finland, rather disgusted. "Mayne is there, making love to Rachel."
Tera stopped and looked surprised. "Does he love Rachel?"
"I suppose so. He has been hanging after her for the last few months. I suppose it will end in a marriage."
"I am sorry for that, Jack," said Tera, resuming her walk. "I do not like Mr. Mayne. Aué! it will be sad if Rachel goes to his house."
"Why? Mayne isn't a bad sort of fellow."
"I don't like him," persisted the girl. "That is a frozen fact; you like a sailor," said Finland, dismissing the subject with a gay laugh. "Where have you been, Tera?"
"To Mr. Johnson, with Tolai."
"Has he delivered his message?"
"Ioé! But I do not know what it is."
"Trouble in Koiau, I guess," observed Jack, carelessly. "That uncle Niga of yours seems to be raising Cain generally."
"Niga! He big chief," grunted Tolai, catching the name.
"Too big for his boots, if he wore 'em, sonny. But Tera and I will help Buli to put him straight when we get to the seas of the Lina-manu (albatross). I guess I'll settle down as a Kanaka when I reach Koiau; England's too dull and grey for me. I'll become an 'ofa-manu' (blood brother) of some one, and take up the chieftainship when Buli passes in his checks. Then we'll enjoy ourselves, Tera, my girl: ride on the surf boats when the rollers rise high on the reef, walk in the bush, drink Kava, and take the mid-day sleep, which you can't get here. Oh, we'll have a high old time, you bet, my lass!"
Tolai could not follow all that Jack said. But every now and then, as he caught a native word familiar to him, he grunted approval. Tera laughed loud for very joy at the picture her lover was painting, and put her arms round his neck.
"With you I shall always be happy," she whispered; "and let me tell you something, love. Mr. Johnson has promised to marry us at Bethgamul!"
"The deuce he has! Got over his sickness for you, has he?"
"I think so. At least he will marry us, and then we shall sail with Captain Jacob for our dear land."
"We must get the dollars first, Tera. And the old man won't part."
"I can't get the money from him, Jack. You let me talk to your uncle."
"As you please. But he won't part."
"Oh yes. I will make him."
"You're a clever lass if you do. But I don't see how you intend to go about it."
"I will make him," repeated Tera; "that is enough. And now let us go into the house. Tolai is cold, for the sun goes down."
"Mayne is inside," said Jack, hanging back, for he was enjoying the hour too much to shorten it.
"I know," answered Tera, and walked towards the farm. "I want to see Mr. Mayne, and Rachel too."
She spoke rather mysteriously, and Finland could not catch the drift of her meaning. However, she said nothing, and the three of them entered the house together. Tolai bestowed himself in a corner, where he sat cross-legged on the floor, after the fashion of his tribe, keeping his faithful eyes ever fastened on Tera. Mayne and Rachel were seated near the window, chatting, and the conversation had not been uninteresting, to judge from Rachel's high colour and bright eyes. Finland guessed that Herbert Mayne had proposed and been accepted. He nudged Tera with a chuckle, but the girl did not respond to his merriment. Indeed, she looked so severely at Herbert when she greeted him that the young man was quite disconcerted. He did not look well, for his face was colourless and his manner uneasy. Yet if Rachel had accepted him--and there was no reason to believe that she had done otherwise--he should surely have been glowing with happiness.
"I am glad to see you again. Miss Bithiah," said he; "we all mourned you as dead."
"It was a strange mistake, Mr. Mayne."
"Oh, I shouldn't say that. The poor girl who was murdered wore your clothes, and as her body was not found for a month, the face was not recognizable. No one dreamed that the corpse was that of a gipsy girl."
"Did not you, Mr. Mayne?"
"I! No," replied Herbert, with frank surprise. "Why should I?"
"You knew this girl at one time," said Tera, looking keenly at him.
The young man flushed and laughed nervously. "I knew her as one knows those sort of people," he said. "Last year her tribe camped on the common near my farm, and Zara--that was her name, was it not?"
"Yes," rejoined Tera, with some irony, "Zara Lovell was her name."
"Well, Zara came round to my house a good deal, selling things and telling fortunes. I saw her very often; so did Finland, here."
"Oh, I saw her!" struck in Jack. "A pretty girl she was, with a devil of a temper."
"Jack," cried Rachel, in a shocked tone, "how can you!"
"I beg your pardon, cousin. But she had a temper. I shouldn't have liked to be hitched up 'longside her in double harness."
"You mean, I suppose, you would not have liked to marry her. Jack! Jack! what slang you use!"
"I do. Cousin Rachel. I must mend my ways."
"Zara was married," said Tera, shortly; "she told me so. I wish now I had asked her about her husband."
"Why?" asked Mayne, suddenly.
"Because I believe he knows something about this murder."
"Oh, Tera!" cried Rachel, flushing, "you don't think her husband killed her. Poor thing!"
"No, I should be sorry to think that. But I dare say he knows who did."
"I wonder who she married?" said Herbert, reflectively. "Slade, the policeman, was very sweet on her."
"Oh, he can't be her husband!" cried Rachel, vigorously; "why, he has been married almost a year. Herbert, surely you don't think Slade has committed bigamy?"
"I hope not, Rachel. As a policeman he should know the danger of it. Well, interesting as this conversation is, I must be off." And Herbert rose to his feet with a yawn.
"Won't you stay to supper, Herbert?" asked Rachel, with a blush.
"No. You have the house full already. But I may look in after and smoke a pipe with the farmer."
Mayne glanced so significantly at Rachel as he made this remark that Tera felt sure he spoke in the character of an accepted lover. Her belief was strengthened when she saw Rachel go to the door with the young man and return with a heightened colour. Tera drew her dark brows together and seemed displeased. While Rachel set out the supper-table she talked to Jack and Tolai in the most unconcerned manner, but when Rachel was about to go to her bedroom to smarten herself up for the meal, she stopped her.
"I'll come with you, dear, if I may," she said, rising. "I'll leave you. Jack, to talk with Tolai, and wait for Farmer Carwell."
"Right you are," said Jack, lighting his pipe. "Come out for a stroll, Tolai. We have lots to talk about."
Tera drew Rachel into the bedroom and shut the door. Then she looked at her steadily, and kissed her. "Has Mr. Mayne proposed?" she asked.
"Oh, how did you guess?" fluttered Rachel, growing very red. "Yes, dear. He has asked me to be his wife."
"And have you promised to marry him?"
"Well, I love him very much, Bithiah, and he belongs to our congregation, and he has a nice farm, and is good-looking, and----"
"Ah, I see you said yes."
"Oh!" Rachel flung her arms round Tera's neck. "I am so happy."
"Poor dear!" sighed the native girl; "and I am about to make you wretched."
Rachel drew back in amazement. "Make me wretched?" she gasped.
"Yes. Your Herbert Mayne is not what you think him."
"Not what I think him? Why? What do you mean?"
"I mean," said Tera, slowly, "that he has been deceiving you. He has been married already. Zara the gipsy was his wife. I can prove it."