The Fire Trumpet: A Romance of the Cape Frontier

by Bertram Mitford

  VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER TWENTY.

  ONE GOLDEN DAY.

  The clouds were parting and revealing patches of blue through theirrifts as Claverton reached home, and with the returning sunshine hisspirits revived. It was going to be a lovely day, and he would haveLilian all to himself for two whole hours that morning, for he was totake her over to Thirlestane, Naylor's place, and return with the restof the party in the afternoon.

  It was just breakfast-time, and Lilian entered at the same time ashimself. Her face looked worn and anxious, as if not much sleep hadfallen to her lot, and though he would have cut off his right hand tospare her the lightest anxiety, yet he could not feel guiltless of asense of consolation that she should have sorrowed with him and for him.The voice of Mr Brathwaite recalled him to himself with a start.

  "Well, Arthur; where did you go this morning?"

  "Down to Umgiswe's."

  "Was his count all right?"

  "Yes. Which is extraordinary, seeing that he had been entertainingvisitors," and he narrated the presence there of the three strangeKafirs.

  "Did you find out the big fellow's name?" asked Mr Brathwaite.

  "Yes. It was Nxabahlana. Do you know him? He looked as if he held theright of succession to the paramount chieftainship of Kafirland."

  "Nxabahlana? Oh, yes, I know him," replied the old man. "He's a kindof sub-chief, and a relation of Sandili's. One of the greatestblackguards that ever stepped. Good thing you turned them out; theywere up to no good, that much is certain."

  "A chief!" exclaimed Lilian, raising her eyes, "I _should_ like to see areal Kafir chief."

  "Would you?" said Claverton. "I wish I had known that; you should haveseen him. I'd have brought him here."

  The others laughed, thinking he was joking, but Lilian knew that hemeant it, every word.

  "Ah, but," she said in a repentant tone, "you couldn't have capturedhim, there were three of them; at least I mean--it would not have beenworth the risk."

  Claverton laughed quietly.

  "No such severe measures would have been necessary. If I had promisedhis chieftainship a glass of grog and an old hat, he would have cometrundling up here with an alacrity that would surprise you."

  "Really? That quite takes away from the poetry of the idea. I thoughtthese savage chiefs were very proud."

  "They are proud enough just as far as it suits them to be so--inasmuchas they affect to look upon us as dust beneath their feet; but they willcondescend to accept anything we may think proper to give them, whetherit be a `tickey' (threepence) or a pair of old boots. In fact JackKafir, of whatever degree, has the bump of acquisitiveness very highlydeveloped, I assure you. Hullo! who's this?"

  For the door opened and a Dutchman entered--the same who witnessed poorAllen's immersion at the taking out of the bees' nest. A good-humouredgrin was on his stolid countenance, which looked suggestively warm, andperhaps not too clean, and his beady black eyes sparkled at the prospectof a good feed. His corduroy trousers were tucked into a pair of topboots, and a _sjambok_, or raw-hide whip, dangled from his wrist. Notuntil he had gone all round, extending a limp, moist paw to each, did itoccur to him to remove his hat.

  "_Autre pays, autre moeurs_," murmured Claverton in response to acharming little grimace of amusement which Lilian flashed at him fromacross the table, in reference to the new arrival.

  A seat was found for the Dutchman, and a well-garnished plate, and beingprovided with a knife and fork he began to make voracious play with thesame. Then having removed the edge of a very exuberant appetite, heraised his head from the platter and waxed talkative.

  "Oom Walter is well?"

  "Ja. Pretty so so."

  "And Mrs Brathwaite?"

  "Also."

  "_Det is goed_," and then having given a like satisfactory account ofhis _vrouw_ and _kinders_ the Boer informed them that he was on his wayto Thirlestane, with the object of purchasing some oxen from Naylor.

  "Claverton's going over there this morning," said Mr Brathwaite,unthinkingly. "You can go over with him."

  "So," said the Dutchman with a nod of approval. "We will ridetogether."

  This didn't meet Claverton's wishes at all.

  "I'm afraid not," he said. "Sticks is rather lame, and I shall have tosend for my other horse. They'll hardly find him till the afternoon--ifthen. It won't be worth Botha's while to wait."

  "No. I don't think it will," said good-natured Mrs Brathwaite, who hadtaken in the situation at a glance. Lilian, not understanding the Boerdialect, was an unconscious auditor of what was going on.

  Breakfast over, the Dutchman sat for about half an hour outside, smokinghis pipe and talking over the usual subjects with his host--sheep,ostriches, the state of the country, how much longer they could dowithout rain, and so on. Then, saddling up his small, rough-lookingnag, he shook hands all round and departed, thoroughly content withhimself and all the world.

  "What a queer fellow!" said Lilian, gazing after the awkward, recedingfigure of their late guest, who, with his feet jammed to the heels inthe stirrups, was shuffling leisurely along, pipe in mouth.

  "Yes, isn't he?" answered Claverton. "But he's a fair specimen of thetypical Boer. Washes three times a year, sleeps in his clothes, andwears his hat in the house."

  "Lilian, dear; hadn't you better get ready to start?" suggested MrsBrathwaite.

  "I was just thinking the same," said Claverton; "but," he added, in alower tone, "I couldn't find it in my conscience to hasten even such atemporary separation, and yet I was racked with apprehension lest someother wayfarer should turn up and make a third."

  She gave him a bright smile as she flitted indoors; then he, having gotinto his riding-gear, went round to the stable and simply made Jan theHottentot groom's life a burden to him over the caparisoning of Lilian'ssteed. This bit was too sharp--that too soft--those reins were too hardfor the hands--and what the devil did he mean by leaving those twospecks of rust on the stirrup-iron? Jan and his deputy--animpish-looking little bushman--couldn't make it out at all; BaasClav'ton was usually so easy-going, and now here he was fidgeting worsethan the "sir" in the long boots (Allen).

  Then Lilian came out, looking lovely in her well-fitting blue habit.There was just a little air of timidity about her which wasinexpressibly charming, as Claverton put her into the saddle. She wasnot a bold horsewoman, she confessed. She was ashamed to say that ifanything she was just a wee bit afraid every time she mounted a horse.Nevertheless she sat beautifully, and the somewhat timid hand held thereins as gracefully if not quite as firmly as that of any hard-ridingAmazon. To-day she was mounted on a handsome old bay horse of MrBrathwaite's, who carried his head well, had a firm, easy walk, and wasas safe as a church, while Claverton rode a dark chestnut just fleckedwith white, a fine, spirited animal which he had bought to supplementthe faithful "Sticks," using the latter for the rougher kinds of work.

  "Do you know, nothing but my unblushing mendacity kept that seedyDutchman from inflicting himself upon our ride?" remarked Claverton,when they had started; and he told her of his little subterfuge.

  "Shocking! You had no right to tell such a story," she answered, with alaugh.

  "Hadn't I? Which would have been best--the lie or the Dutchman? `Ofthe two evils,' you know, and I thought the lie the least. Perhaps youwould have preferred the Dutchman?"

  "No, I would not. But I think--well, I think--you did about the verybest thing you could have done," she replied, breaking into a silverylaugh. "But don't take that as any encouragement to persevere in theart. It's a dangerous one, and I believe you are quite an adept in italready. In fact, I've heard you tell one or two shocking fibs myself."

  "All's fair in love and war." Then noting the look which stole over herface he wished the quotation unsaid. "But I promise you I won't indulgein mendacity any more than I can help."

  "You must not do it at all. Seriously, it isn't right."

  "Except as a choice of evils. How would socie
ty get on without itsmendacities?"

  "Never mind about society," retorted Lilian, brushing aside aninconvenient argument in right womanly fashion. "And now promise you'lldo what I'm going to ask you."

  "Oh, cheerfully."

  "I'm going to set you a penance."

  "Consider it performed. But what is it?"

  "Well, the next time a choice of evils is offered you, you are to choosethe one which does not involve romancing."

  "That must depend upon its nature."

  "Oh, you promised!"

  "So I did, and so did Herod, and look what came of it."

  "Never mind about Herod," was the laughing reply. "I have got you at adisadvantage, and I mean to keep you at it. Look, are not those Kafirspicturesque, in their red blankets, filing through the dark green of thebush?" she broke off, pointing out half-a-dozen ochre-painted beings whowere crossing the valley some distance from them. They were walking insingle file, and every now and then one would half stop and throw aremark over his shoulder in a deep bass tone. Their necklaces ofjackals' teeth showed white against their red bodies, which glistened inthe sun, and as they marched along, head erect and with their kerriesover their shoulders, they certainly did look picturesque.

  "Yes, and do you notice how clear the air is? I can make out nearlyevery word those fellows are saying," answered Claverton.

  "Can you really? What are they talking about?"

  "What are they talking about? Now look at them. The noble savage onhis native heath, looking too, as if it actually did belong to him,striding with free and independent bearing, proud and scornful in mien.You think they are talking of war and tribal greatness, and theextermination of the hated white man, and such-like lofty and ambitiousschemes? Nothing of the sort. One fellow is narrating how he got athorn in his right heel, and how badly his brother extracted it for him,while three of the others are all trying to say at once what a fool thebrother was, and that they could have done it much better."

  Lilian broke into a peal of laughter. "How absurd you are! You havequite taken the poetry out of them, and now they look like a verycommonplace lot of beings. But is that really what they were saying?"

  "It is, upon my word. To see a lot of Kafirs talking you would thinkthey were letting off a stream of oratory, what with all theirgesticulation and modulation of voice. In nine cases out of ten theyare discussing the veriest trivialities."

  "I'm not sure that I'm glad I know that. It spoils the romance of thething. I shan't look at them with the same interest."

  "You are given to idealisation, I see," he said. "It is a delightfulpastime, and I must not do anything to shock it. But, look! That, atall events, is entirely free from the commonplace."

  They had reached the brow of an eminence, and before them lay unfolded apanorama which brought a flush of delight to Lilian's face. Upland andvalley lay sleeping in the golden sunshine, a rolling expanse ofverdure, now open and grassy, now covered with thick bush, or dottedhere and there with feathery mimosas. Wave upon wave of rise and swell,there seemed no end to the wide beautiful plains; and the eye wanderedon, over and over it, drinking in a new delight in the far-seeingvision, then turning to refresh itself in the grand mountain chain whichbounded its range in front. Stretching afar, in a hundred and fiftymiles of stately crescent, rose those lofty mountains with their sunnyslopes and beetling cliffs, and black forest-clad sides seen through thedim uncertainty of the summer haze; while, towering above the rest, theGreat Winterberg raised his weather-beaten crest to the cloudless bine.The thatch and white walls of a farmhouse or two, visible here and therein the distance, redeemed the spectacle from the utter wildness of anewly-trodden land, but on the other hand added to the peacefulsolemnity of the scene. Hard by, the air resounded with the low hum ofbees busily gathering their stores from the blossoming sprays of aneighbouring clump of bush; spreuws whistled, and a dainty littlesugar-bird--the humming-bird of Southern Africa--flitted across thepath, his painted plumage glittering in the sun. Down in the valley twoor three pairs of blue cranes roamed about picking in the grass, andevery now and then their strange rasping note floated not unmelodiouslythrough the calm.

  Lilian, in her intense love of the beautiful, could not restrain a cryof delight as she gazed upon the splendid panorama before them. Theexhilarating exercise and the warm balminess of the air had brought theloveliest flush into her clear olive cheeks, and as she sat therelightly reining in her horse, while the sweet eyes sparkled and dilatedand a witching smile carved the usually sad mouth, her companion thoughthe had never seen such a picture in his life.

  "A lovely background with a lovelier central figure," he murmured."Look at it well," he added. "Take it all in thoroughly, now; it willnever look the same again. Nothing ever strikes us as it does the firsttime."

  She looked half round at him. "Am I delaying you?"

  "Delaying _me_? Good heavens!" is all the reply he can make just then.Often in the time to come will he remember this day, this moment. Oftenwill he stand in imagination as he does now with one arm over the pommelof his saddle, watching the radiant face of this girl in its almostdivine beauty, set in entranced contemplation of the glorious landscapeall gleaming with purple and gold in the flooding sunshine. Andremembering it he will feel as though he had lost Heaven. A dull,gnawing pain tugs at his heart as a forecast of the future runs darklythrough him, but with a great effort he thrusts it aside; he will livein the present, and sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

  "What are those, down there?" cried Lilian. "Bucks of some sort?"

  "Yes. Springbok. There are a few on this side of the place."

  Some two dozen of the graceful creatures were trotting leisurely alongon the slope below them. They were near enough for the dark stripe upontheir shining sides to be plainly discernible, as also the rings ontheir black curved horns, as they kept turning their heads to gazeinquiringly at their human observers.

  "How pretty they are!" said Lilian. "We are seeing ever so many queerthings to-day, and this beautiful country. Do you know, I am thoroughlyenjoying this ride."

  "Are you? I wish it might last for ever."

  His face wears the same look of longing desperation which it wore in thestarlight, while they stood by the pool. Quickly the gladness fadesfrom hers as a light that has gone out. She thinks how selfish she isto throw her joyousness at him thus, while his heart is aching for loveof her.

  "Hush!" she says, in a low compassionate tone. "Remember our compact."

  Claverton dare not trust himself to look at her. His eyes are fixed onthe hazy slopes of the far-off mountains, whose green and purple sideshe scarcely so much as sees. For some minutes neither speaks. Thenwith a quick restless sigh he throws himself into the saddle.

  "You are right," he says, huskily. "It is I who am weak; weak as water.Only this once. I will not transgress again."

  They resumed their way. The springboks, startled by the sudden moveforward, bounded off. On the brow of the rise, several of them beganleaping high into the air, with all four feet off the ground together,and their bodies in the form of a semicircle. Being in relief againstthe sky, the effect was not a little bizarre.

  "What ridiculous creatures!" said Lilian, watching them. "I never sawsuch contortions."

  "Yes, they are vindicating their name," said her companion, tranquilly.He had recovered his composure, and was thankful for this diversion.

  Cresting the next ridge they came suddenly upon a couple of advancinghorsemen, heavy-faced, lumbering-looking fellows, their complexionstanned to the colour of brickdust, and it needed but a glance at theirgeneral untidiness, and seedy get-up, to pronounce upon theirnationality.

  They stopped and shook hands with Claverton, doffing their greasy hatsto his companion, at sight of whom even their wooden countenances showedsigns of animation. A few commonplace questions and answers wereexchanged, then one of the Boers, glancing at Lilian, asked with thefreedom of speech customary among that delig
htfully primitive people:"Is that your wife?"

  He answered without moving a muscle, and enlightened them. They wereonly ignorant brutes, he reasoned, half savages almost; yet just then,the question had come upon him with a kind of shock. He was thankfulthat Lilian had not understood the conversation.

  "I really must learn Dutch," she said. "It isn't nearly such aninviting tongue as the full melodious flow of the Kafir language; butfar more useful, I should think. Everybody seems to speak it."

  "Yes, it's the regular go-between jargon here. Very few even of thefrontier people speak Kafir, and not one Kafir in five hundred can talkEnglish, hence the necessity of a go-between. Look! There's ourdestination."

  They had reached the brow of one of those long rolling undulations whichformed a leading feature in the landscape, and on the rise oppositestood a large single-storeyed house, with an iron roof and deepverandah. A block of out-buildings adjoined, and several spaciousenclosures sloped down into the hollow; but save for a few tall bluegums overshadowing the house, the surroundings were destitute of trees.

  "Ah, you've found your way over to us at last," said Emily Naylor, whowith Laura Brathwaite had come out on the stoep to meet Lilian. "Soglad to see you. Was it very hot, riding? You must be tired."

  "Oh, no," answered Lilian, "the air was delightful, and the view--Inever saw anything so perfect;" and she turned to look again at thewide, sweeping landscape stretching away in front.

  "Yes; it's very pretty," said her hostess. "It is not so pretty here asat Seringa Vale, because we have no trees, but the look-out is muchwider. But come inside and sit down, or shall we sit out here? Youmust be tired after your ride."

  "I'm not though, really. And you must not make me out an invalid,"answered Lilian, with a smile. "I'm far from that."

  "Then come and see the young ostriches."

  Lilian readily assented, and the whole party moved thither accordingly.

  "Well, Miss Laura, you're looking all the better for your change of air;in fact, blooming," remarked Claverton, who was walking beside her. "Bythe way, where's the twin?"

  "Ethel? Oh, she's down at the ostrich enclosure, where we are going.Mr Allen is there, too, and Will Jeffreys."

  "_Alias_ Scowling Will. So he's here, is he?"

  "Yes. But I can't return you the compliment you just paid me. You lookas if you had been up all night for a week," answered Laura, with aspice of demure malice.

  "Oh, don't make personal remarks; it's rude," murmured Claverton,languidly.

  "Ha--ha," struck in Naylor. "Claverton's been getting on the spree, Iexpect, now that you two are not there to keep him in order. And nowhere we are," he went on, as they arrived at an improvised yard sometwenty feet square, wherein a number of little oval-shaped woolly thingswere running about. "They are strong little beggars, not a seedy oneamong the lot."

  They had not been long hatched, and as they scuttled about, stoppingoccasionally to peck at the chopped lucerne strewn on the ground, theywere just the size and shape of the parent egg, plus legs and a neck.Naylor picked one of them up.

  "You'd never think that this little chap in less than a year's timewould be able to kick a fellow into the middle of next week, would you?"he said, showing it to Lilian.

  "No, indeed," replied she, stroking the little creature's glossy brownneck, and passing her fingers through the thick coating of hair-likefeathers like the soft quills of the porcupine, which covered its back."What dear little things they are. They ought always to keep small."

  "Oho!" laughed Naylor. "Bad look out for those who farm them, if theydid. You wouldn't get much for a plucking off this little beggar, forinstance."

  "Of course I didn't mean that," she explained. "I meant that it was apity such pretty little things should grow up big, and ugly, andvicious."

  "It's a good thing sometimes that they are vicious," said Naylor. "Itkeeps the niggers from going into the enclosures and stealing the eggs,and even plucking the birds. They are taking to that already."

  "Are they not too much afraid of them?"

  "Not always. Look at those two black chaps in yonder camp. They arefour-year-old birds, and the nigger isn't born who'd go in and pluckthem. Look, you can see them both now," added Naylor, pointing out acouple of black moving balls, many hundred yards off, in the middle oftheir enclosures.

  "It is all very interesting," exclaimed Lilian, half to herself, gazingaround. Far away on the sunlit plains a herd of cattle was lazilymoving; down by the dam in the hollow, whose glassy waters shone likeburnished silver in the midday heat, stood a few horses, recently turnedout of the kraal, swishing the flies with their tails, or scratchingeach other's backs with their teeth, while in the ostrich "camps," whoselong, low walls ran up the slope, the great bipeds stalked majesticallyabout, pecking at the herbage on the ground, or, with head erect andneck distended, looked and listened suspiciously, equally ready for afeed of corn or for an intruder. All seemed to tell of peace, andsunshine, and prosperity.

  "How you must enjoy your life in this beautiful country!" she went on.

  Naylor was hugely gratified. Subsequently he took occasion to remark tohis wife that Lilian Strange was the nicest and the most sensible girlhe had ever seen. "Why doesn't Claverton cut in for her?" added theblunt, jovial fellow, in his free-and-easy way. "Then they could gethold of one of these places round here. He's a fool if he doesn't." Towhich his wife answered, with a provoking smile of superior knowledge,that she supposed most people knew their own business best.

  Now, however, he looked pleased. "Well, yes; we've been brought up init, you see, and shouldn't be happy in any other. But I should havethought that you, coming out from England, would have found it ratherslow. Perhaps you haven't had time to, though, as yet."

  "You mean that the novelty hasn't worn off yet? No more it has; buteven when it did, that would make but little difference. There is acharm about this beautiful country, with its solitudes, its grandmountains, and rolling plains, and wild associations, which, so far frombecoming tame, would grow upon one. And the climate, too, is perfect."

  Naylor laughed diffidently. "Yes; but there's another side to thatpicture. How about bad seasons, and drought, and war, and locusts, andstock-lifting, and so on? It isn't all fun here on the frontier."

  "Now, I won't be disenchanted," she retorted, with a bright smile. "Youmust not try and spoil the picture I have drawn."

  "Then I won't. Hallo, Ethel! We've been looking for you," he added,turning as he, for the first time, discovered she had joined them."Here's Miss Strange prepared to swear by the frontier--in fact, she hasdone so already."

  "Yes?" said Ethel, coming forward to greet Lilian; and Claverton couldnot help contrasting the two as they stood together: the one with hersoft, dark, winning beauty, the lovely eyes never losing for a momenttheir serene composure; the other, bright, laughing, and golden, thefull red lips ever ready to curl in mischief-loving jest or mockingretort, and hair like a rippling sunbeam. Yet nine men out of ten wouldprobably have awarded the palm to Ethel. "Yes?" she said, and, in herheart of hearts, added, "and with her own reasons." She did not feelvery cordially towards Lilian just then.

  "She says it's perfect, all round," went on Naylor--"a young Paradise."

  "I don't know," said Ethel. "I shouldn't like to stay on the frontierall the year round. One would miss the balls and theatre in Cape Town."

  "Aha!" laughed Emily, "Ethel is still intent on slaughter. She madesuch havoc last session; ever so many poor fellows threw themselves offthe cliffs on Table Mountain on her account; how many was it, Ethel--twenty-five?--that she had to be spirited away in the night for fear ofthe vengeance of their bereaved mammas."

  "Call it fifty while you're about it," she answered. "How awfully hotit has become!"

  This served as a pretext for a move indoors, which was made accordingly.

  "So you're all determined to go back this evening," said Naylor, as theysat in the verandah after d
inner.

  "I think we must," answered Ethel; "aunt will think we are never comingback."

  Hicks, who at the other end of the verandah was "assisting" Laura toplay with the children--these having finished their morning's lessons,had invaded the party--pricked up his ears and looked rueful in advance.If they were persuaded to stay, he would have to go anyhow; but Ethelwas firm, and he breathed freely again.

  "But, Claverton, you and Miss Strange might stop--to-night, at anyrate," persisted Naylor.

  It was Ethel's turn to feel apprehensive. She had schooled herself intoaccepting the situation, and accepting it patiently. The strife hadbeen a hard one, and she had suffered in it--suffered acutely, but shehad conquered. Yet the struggle had not been won in a moment, and ithad left its traces; but she seemed not to show them; she was a triflegraver, and more subdued in manner, that was all. A few days ago shehad longed, with an intense longing, to get away--away from the sound ofhis voice, from the glance of his eyes; yet now that it is a question asto whether they shall return without him, her heart beats quick, and sheseems to hang upon the verdict which they are all discussing so calmly.

  "I don't think we can to-day, Naylor," answered Claverton, a glance atLilian having satisfied him that she did not favour the scheme.

  "But look here," Naylor was beginning, when his wife cut him short.

  "Why shouldn't we inspan and go back with them, Ned? We can leaveSeringa Vale again before breakfast if you like, and there's something Iwant to see mother about."

  "All right, we'll do that. Don't you think Seringa Vale is rather agood name for a place, Miss Strange?"

  "Yes--so pretty," answered Lilian; "it's a poem in itself."

  "How do you like Thirlestane?"

  "I like it, too. Did you name it?"

  "Yes," replied Naylor, "it's called after a small place my grandfatherhad in England. Its original name is a Dutch one--_Uitkyk_, a look-out;but Thirlestane's better than _Uitkyk_, isn't it?"

  "Jack Armitage calls it `Oatcake' even to this day," put in Claverton.

  Suddenly, a loud booming noise came from one of the enclosures. Alllooked in that direction. The great ostrich was plainly visible, hisneck inflated to six times its size as he emitted his deep call,volleying it out in heavy booms, three at a time.

  "Fancy an ostrich making such a row as that! You wouldn't have thoughtit possible, would you, Miss Strange?" said Gough, the tutor. He hadjoined the party at dinner-time, when school was over.

  "I don't think I should," answered Lilian. "The first time I heard it,I was so frightened. It was at Seringa Vale. I was lying awake atnight, and this great booming sounded so awful in the dead of night. Ihadn't a notion what it was; the first thing I thought of was some wildbeast."

  "A lion, I suppose," said Naylor.

  "I think the whole of the Zoological Gardens ran through my vividimagination. How Mr Brathwaite laughed when I told him about it nextmorning! Yet I was terribly frightened."

  "No wonder," said Claverton. "It's a precious uncanny sort of row tostrike up in the middle of the night, especially when you don't knowwhere it comes from, or what it's all about."

  It was now voted time to be getting the horses in. This served as asignal for a general break-up, the masculine element of the party makingtowards the stable, or the enclosure, where some manoeuvring was needed,as we have seen, to obtain possession of the requisite steeds withoutexciting the wrath of the autocratic biped who reigned there.

  Claverton having, as before, submitted Lilian's steed and its gear to arigid examination, now whisking a speck of dust off the saddle, orletting down a link of the curb-chain and readjusting it, assisted herto mount.

  "Wish that fool would go on," he muttered savagely, referring to Allen,whose ancient screw was mooning along with a kind of crop-the-grassgait. The rest of the party were on ahead. "He needn't wait for us,"and flinging himself on his spirited chestnut he bade the groom let gothe reins. The fine animal tossed his head and sidled and champed hisbit as he felt himself free; free yet not free, for his rider was aconsummate horseman and had him perfectly in hand.

  Lilian laughed. "Poor fellow," she said. "Do you know, I sometimesfeel so sorry for him. You all chaff him dreadfully and--Oh!"

  The last exclamation is one of alarm, for at that moment a troop ofostriches--young ten-month-old birds--having deserted its herd in one ofthose stampedes to which these idiotic bipeds are so liable, whirls pastthem, with wings outstretched and snowy plumes sparkling in the sun, andLilian's steed, which has not yet become quite accustomed to thegigantic fowls, shows signs of restiveness.

  "Don't be frightened--darling. You're quite safe," says her escort,noting the scared look in her face, as the old horse tugs at his bridleand snorts and plunges a little. "He'll be perfectly quiet in half aminute."

  He is so close beside her all the time, and speaks in such a reassuringtone that her alarm subsides, and the old steed drops into his normalsteadiness as though half ashamed of himself.

  "Are you not utterly disgusted with such a coward?" says she, with afaint apologetic laugh. "I ought to have enjoyed the affair as a goodopportunity for showing off, oughtn't I?"

  "One must show on before showing off. I wouldn't have you anything buttimid on board a horse for the world, except for your own sake. Itsuits you to perfection."

  He is in earnest. These oft-recurring little alarms of hers are socaptivating in their pure unaffectedness, so womanly; and, withal, thesense of protection imparted to himself is delicious. And if she is attimes somewhat shrinking, as at present, even that lends an additionalattraction to her delicate refinement.

  "Every one is not an Amazon, thank heaven," he continued, "and you willsoon be as much at home on horseback as in a chair. We will have a lotof practice. Besides, you know, lately you have not been very well, andthat is calculated to unnerve you. We will do our best to set you upthoroughly--while--you are here." He tried to speak firmly, but it wasof no use, that tell-tale tremor shook his voice over the last fourwords, for they conjured up a picture of when she should be no longer"here," and he dared not think of it. At present he would thrust thethought far from him.

  They had now overtaken Allen, and were obliged to shape the conversationaccordingly. "Shall we canter on a little?" suggested Claverton. "Therest are a good way ahead."

  Lilian acquiesced, and their steeds bounded along the grassy slopes atan easy elastic canter, but Allen's sorry screw finding a difficulty inkeeping pace with the long stride of the well-bred horses, thatdisconsolate youth soon dropped behind.

  "Here is our panorama again," said Claverton, reining in on the top ofthe hill, whence they had enjoyed the view that morning.

  "It looks different already. This golden light sheds a rarepeacefulness--an evening repose--upon it, which is perfectly enchanting.It is hard to determine, but of the two I think I preferred it thismorning. There was an exhilaration in the very air that made one feelthe pleasure of merely living."

  "I liked it best this morning, too," he answered gravely. Then all theday was before him--so many hours with _her_. Now they had come--neverto return.