Cape of Good Hope (South Africa) -- Fiction; English fiction; Xhosa (African people) -- Fiction
The interview lasted but a few minutes. Dr E--, who had only retired
to a tent close at hand, was speedily summoned again. "I am obliged,
you see, Dr E--," said Sir Adrian, "to leave this unfortunate
gentleman. I fear he will disclose to you much of a history which it
will shock you to hear, but I leave him, I know, in honourable hands,
and his valet is faithful. The sentries had better be removed beyond
ear-shot of the marquee. You are aware that there are symptoms of a
warlike nature among the Gaikas in those hills; but, come what may, you
must not leave Sir John. Delirium, I have little doubt, will supervene,
for he is fearfully excited, and, alas! there is no earthly comfort for
him. In a word, the convict who has been brought within our lines
to-day is his son."
The good surgeon stood confounded. Low moans struck on his ear--then a
bitter cry; he had only time to send for the valet and a trusty sergeant
before the patient was wild with delirium.
Miserable man! we must leave him; his pride is humbled to the dust--he
weeps aloud, and implore his servant to intercede, to pray for his son,
his first-born son.
Sir Adrian Fairfax did not seek his wife till he had made a minute
inspection of the defences of the camp. He entered the guard-house. A
thrill of anguish pierced his very soul at sight of the heavily-barred
door of the convict's cell. All was still within.
The day was more than half spent ere the general had time to greet the
Lady Amabel. Mr Trail's cottage was appropriated to her use, but the
kind and gracious woman had found her way to Eleanor's little
white-washed room. Still equipped in her riding-dress, she reclined on
cushions spread upon the floor.
She looked like some fair lily, beaten by the storm. Her riding-hat was
laid aside, and her hair, still beautiful, hung disordered about her
face, which had lost in loveliness of outline, but had preserved all its
grace and sweetness of expression.
She silenced her husband's tender reproof at having undertaken such a
journey without his knowledge or permission. "Permission, dear love!"
said she; "I did not ask for what I knew you would not grant, and it has
been my great pleasure to surprise you in this beautiful desert.
Besides," she added, with a grave face, "truth to tell, I hastened my
journey in consequence of news gathered by the way by my trusty Klaas,
the Hottentot.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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