Swallow: A Tale of the Great Trek by H. Rider Haggard
CHAPTER V
A LOVE SCENE AND A QUARREL
Presently they were seated side by side upon a stone, Suzanne lookingstraight before her, for nature warned her that this talk of theirs wasnot to be as other talks, and Ralph looking at Suzanne.
"Suzanne," he said at length.
"Yes," she answered; "what is it?" But he made no answer, for thoughmany words were bubbling in his brain, they choked in his throat, andwould not come out of it.
"Suzanne," he stammered again presently, and again she asked him what itwas, and again he made no answer. Now she laughed a little and said:
"Ralph, you remind me of the blue-jay in the cage upon the _stoep_ whichknows but one word and repeats it all day long."
"Yes," he replied, "it is true; I am like that jay, for the word Itaught it is 'Suzanne,' and the word my heart teaches me is 'Suzanne,'and--Suzanne, I love you!"
Now she turned her head away and looked down and answered:
"I know, Ralph, that you have always loved me since we were childrentogether, for are we not brother and sister?"
"No," he answered bluntly, "it is not true."
"Then that is bad news for me," she said, "who till to-day have thoughtotherwise."
"It is not true," he went on, and now his words came fast enough, "thatI am your brother, or that I love you as a brother. We are no kin, andif I love you as a brother that is only one little grain of my love foryou--yes, only as one little grain is to the whole sea-shore of sand.Suzanne, I love you as--as a man loves a maid--and if you will it, dear,all my hope is that one day you will be my wife," and he ceased suddenlyand stood before her trembling, for he had risen from the stone.
For a few moments Suzanne covered her face with her hands, and when shelet them fall again he saw that her beautiful eyes shone like the largestars at night, and that, although she was troubled, her trouble madeher happy.
"Oh! Ralph," she said at length, speaking in a voice that was differentfrom any he had ever heard her use, a voice very rich and low and full,"Oh! Ralph, this is new to me, and yet to speak the truth, it seemsas old as--as that night when first I found you, a desolate, starvingchild, praying upon this stone. Ralph, I do will it with all my heartand soul and body, and I suppose that I have willed it ever since Iwas a woman, though until this hour I did not quite know what it was Iwilled. Nay, dear, do not touch me, or at the least, not yet. First hearwhat I have to say, and then if you desire it, you may kiss me--if onlyin farewell."
"If you will it and I will it, what more can you have to say?" he askedin a quick whisper, and looking at her with frightened eyes.
"This, Ralph; that our wills, who are young and unlearned, are not allthe world; that there are other wills to be thought of; the wills of ourparents, or of mine rather, and the will of God."
"For the first," he answered, "I do not think that they stand in ourpath, for they love you and wish you to be happy, although it is truethat I, who am but a wanderer picked up upon the veldt, have no fortuneto offer you--still fortune can be won," he added doggedly.
"They love you also, Ralph, nor do they care over much for wealth,either of them, and I am sure that they would not wish you to leave usto go in search of it."
"As for the will of God," he continued, "it was the will of God that Ishould be wrecked here, and that you should save me here, and that thelife you saved should be given to you. Will it not, therefore, be thewill of God also that we, who can never be happy apart, should be happytogether and thank Him for our happiness every day till we die?"
"I trust so, Ralph; yet although I have read and seen little, I knowthat very often it has been His will that those who love each othershould be separated by death or otherwise."
"Do not speak of it," he said with a groan.
"No, I will not speak of it, but there is one more thing of which I mustspeak. Strangely enough, only this morning my mother was talking of you;she said that you are English, and that soon or late blood will call toblood and you will leave us. She said that your nest is not here, butthere, far away across the sea, among those English; that you are aswallow that has been fledged with sparrows, and that one day you willfind the wings of a swallow. What put it in her mind to speak thus, I donot know, but I do know, Ralph, that her words filled me with fear, andnow I understand why I was so much afraid."
He laughed aloud very scornfully. "Then, Suzanne," he said, "you maybanish your fears, for this I swear to you, before the Almighty, thatwhoever may be my true kin, were a kingdom to be offered to me amongthem, unless you could share it, it would be refused. This I swearbefore the Almighty, and may He reject me if I forget the oath."
"You are very young to make such promises, Ralph," she answereddoubtfully, "nor do I hold them binding on you. At nineteen, so I amtold, a lad will swear anything to the girl who takes his fancy."
"I am young in years, Suzanne, but I grew old while I was yet a child,for sorrow aged me. You have heard my oath; let it be put to the test,and you shall learn whether or no I speak the truth. Do I look like onewho does not know his mind?"
She glanced up at the steady, grey eyes and the stern, set mouth andanswered, "Ralph, you look like one who knows his mind, and I believeyou. Pray God I may not be deceived, for though we are but lad and girl,if it prove so I tell you that I shall live my life out with a brokenheart."
"Do not fear, Suzanne. And now I have heard what you had to say, and Iclaim your promise. If it be your will I will kiss you, Suzanne, but notin farewell."
"Nay," she answered, "kiss me rather in greeting of the full andbeautiful life that stretches before our feet. Whether the path be shortor long, it will be good for us and ever better, but, Ralph, I thinkthat the end will be best of all."
So he took her in his arms, and they kissed each other upon the lips,and, as they told me afterwards, in that embrace they found some joy.Why should they not indeed, for if anywhere upon the earth, if it begiven and received in youth before the heart has been seared and taintedwith bitterness and disillusion, surely in such a pledge as theirs truejoy can be found. Yes, and they did more than this, for, kneeling thereupon that rock where once the starving child had knelt in bygone years,they prayed to Him who had brought them together, to Him who had giventhem hearts to love with and bodies to be loved, and the immortalityof Heaven wherein to garner this seed of love thus sown upon the earth,that He would guide them, bless them, and protect them through alltrials, terrors, sorrows, and separations. As shall be seen, this indeedHe did.
Then they rose, and having, not without difficulty, lifted the riet-buckram upon Ralph's horse and made it fast there, as our hunters know howto do, they started homewards, walking the most part of the way, for theload was heavy and they were in no haste, so that they only reached thefarm about noon.
Now I, watching them as we sat at our mid-day meal, grew sure thatsomething out of the common had passed between them. Suzanne was verysilent, and from time to time glanced at Ralph shyly, whereon, feelingher eyes, he would grow red as the sunset, and seeing his trouble, shewould colour also, as though with the knowledge of some secret that madeher both happy and ashamed.
"You were long this morning in finding a buck, Ralph," I said.
"Yes, mother," he answered; "there were none on the flats, for the grassis burnt off; and had not Suzanne beaten out a dry pan for me where thereeds were still green, I think that we should have found nothing. As itwas I shot badly, hitting the ram in the flank, so that we were obligedto follow it a long way before I came up with it."
"And where did you find it at last?" I asked.
"In a strange place, mother; yes, in that very spot where many years agoSuzanne came upon me starving after the shipwreck. There in the gladeand by the flat stone on which I had lain down to die was the buck,quite dead. We knew the dell again, though neither of us had visited itfrom that hour to this, and rested there awhile before we turned home."
I made no answer but sat thinking, and a silence fell on all of us.By this time the Kaffi
"Doubtless," I thought to myself, "he means to tell the tale of theEnglishmen who have come to seek for Ralph. Well, I think that he maysafely tell it now."
Then I looked at Ralph and saw that he also was very ill at ease,struggling with words which he did not know how to utter. I noted,moreover, that Suzanne touched his hand with hers beneath the shelter ofthe table as though to comfort and encourage him. Now watching these twomen, at last I broke out laughing, and said, addressing them:
"You are like two fires of green weeds in a mealie patch, and I amwondering which of you will be the first to break into flame or whetheryou will both be choked by the reek of your own thoughts."
My gibe, harmless though it was, stung them into speech, and both atonce, for I have noticed, however stupid they may be, that men neverlike to be laughed at.
"I have something to say," said each of them, as though with a singlevoice, and they paused, looking at one another angrily.
"Then, son, wait till I have finished. Almighty! for the last twentyminutes you have been sitting as silent as an ant-bear in a hole, and Itell you that it is my turn now; why, then, do you interrupt me?"
"I am very sorry, my father," said Ralph, looking much afraid, forhe thought that Jan was going to scold him about Suzanne, and hisconscience being guilty caused him to forget that it was not possiblethat he should know anything of the matter of his love-making.
"That is good," said Jan, still glaring at him; "but I am not yourfather."
"Then why do you call me son?" asked Ralph.
"Almighty! do you suppose that I sit here to answer riddles?" repliedJan, pulling at his great beard. "Why do I call you son, indeed? Ah!" headded in a different voice, a sorrowful voice, "why do I when I have noright? Listen, my boy, we are in sore trouble, I and your mother, orif she is not your mother at least she loves you as much as though shewere, and I love you too, and you know it; so why do you seek to make afool of me by asking me riddles?"
Now, Ralph was about to answer, but Suzanne held up her hand, and he wasquiet.
"My son," went on Jan with a kind of sob, "they are coming to take youaway from us."
"They! Who?" asked Ralph.
"Who? The English, damn them! Yes, I say, damn the English and theEnglish Government."
"Peace, Jan," I broke in, "this is not a political meeting, where suchtalk is right and proper."
"The English Government is coming to take me away!" exclaimed Ralphbewildered. "What has the Government to do with me?"
"No," said Jan, "not the English Government, but two Scotchmen, which ismuch the same thing. I tell you that they are travelling to this placeto take you away."
Now, Ralph leaned back in his chair and stared at him, for he saw thatit was little use to ask him questions, and that he must leave him totell the tale in his own fashion. At last it came out.
"Ralph," said my husband, "you know that you are not of our blood; wefound you cast up on the beach like a storm-fish and took you in, andyou grew dear to us; yes, although you are English or Scotch, which isworse, for if the English bully us the Scotch bully us and cheat us intothe bargain. Well, your parents were drowned, and have been in Heavenfor a long time, but I am sorry to say that all your relations were notdrowned with them. At first, however, they took no trouble to hunt foryou when we should have been glad enough to give you up."
"No," broke in Suzanne and I with one voice, and I added, "How do youdare to tell such lies in the face of the Lord, Jan?"
"----When it would not have been so bad to give you up," he went on,correcting himself. "But now it seems that had you lived you would haveinherited estates, or titles, or both."
"Is the boy dead then?" I asked.
"Be silent, wife, I mean--had he lived a Scotchman. Therefore, havingmade inquiries, and learned that a lad of your name and age had beenrescued from a shipwreck and was still alive among the Boers in theTranskei, they have set to work to hunt you, and are coming here to takeyou way, for I tell you that I heard it in the dorp yonder."
"Is it so?" said Ralph, while Suzanne hung upon his words with whiteface and trembling lips. "Then I tell you that I will not go. I may beEnglish, but my home is here. My own father and mother are dead, andthese strangers are nothing to me, nor are the estates and titles faraway anything to me. All that I hold dear on the earth is here in theTranskei," and he glanced at Suzanne, who seemed to bless him with hereyes.
"You talk like a fool," said Jan, but in a voice which was full of joythat he could not hide, "as is to be expected of an ignorant boy. Now Iam a man who has seen the world, and I know better, and I tell you thatalthough they are an accursed race, still it is a fine thing to be alord among the English. Yes, yes, I know the English lords. I saw oneonce when I went to Capetown; he was the Governor there, and drivingthrough the streets in state, dressed as bravely as a blue-jay in hisspring plumage, while everybody took off their hats to him, except I,Jan Botmar, who would not humble myself thus. Yet to have such clothesas that to wear every day, while all the people salute you and make apath for you, is not a thing to be laughed at. See boy, it just comes tothis: here you are poor and little, there you may be rich and much, andit is our duty not to stand in your road, though it may break our heartsto lose you. So you had best make up your mind to go away with thedamned Scotchmen when they come, though I hope that you will thinkkindly of us when you get to your own country. Yes, yes, you shallgo, and what is more, you may take my best horse to ride away on, thethoroughbred _schimmel_, and my new black felt hat that I bought in thedorp. There, that is done with, praise be to God, and I am going out,for this place is so thick with smoke that I can't see my own hand," andhe rose to go, adding that if the two Scotchmen did not want a bulletthrough them, it would be as well if they kept out of his way when theycame upon the farm.
Now in saying that the room was thick with smoke Jan lied, for both themen's pipes went out when they began to talk. But as I knew why he liedI did not think so much of it. To tell the truth, at that moment I couldsee little better than he could, since, although I would have poisonedthose two Scotchmen before I suffered them to take Ralph away, the verythought of his going was enough to fill my eyes with tears, and to causeSuzanne to weep aloud shamelessly.
"Wait a bit, father--I beg your pardon, Jan Botmar," said Ralph in aclear and angry voice; "it is my turn now, for you may remember thatwhen we began to talk I had something to say, but you stopped me. Now,with your leave, as you have got off the horse I will get on."
Jan slowly sat down again and said:
"Speak. What is it?"
"This: that if you send me away you are likely to lose more than youbargain for."
Now Jan stared at him perplexedly, but I smiled, for I guessed what wasto come.
"What am I likely to lose," he asked, "beyond my best horse and my felthat? Allemachter! Do you want my span of black oxen also? Well, youshall have them if you like, for I should wish you to trek to your newhome in England behind good cattle."
"No," answered Ralph coolly, "but I want your daughter, and if you sendme away I think that she will come with me."