Swallow: A Tale of the Great TrekHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
History
Swallow: A Tale of the Great Trek
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Historical fiction; South Africa -- History -- Great Trek, 1836-1840 -- Fiction; Transvaal (South Africa) -- Fiction
“Yes, yes,” said Sihamba, “good words, but the Sight is still the Sight
for those who have the power to see. Not that I wished you to see,
indeed I did not wish it, nor did I think that you would be turned from
your purpose by that which you have seen. Father and mother of Swallow,
you are right, and now I will tell you the truth. What you beheld in
the water was nothing but a trick, a clever trick of the little
doctoress, Sihamba, by the help of which and others like it, she earns
her living, and imposes on the foolish, though she cannot impose upon
you, who are wise, and have the Lord of the skies for a friend. So
think no more of it, and do not be angry with the little black monkey
whose nature it is to play tricks;” and with a motion of her foot she
upset the bowl of water, and collecting the pieces of mirror hid them
away in her skin pouch.
Then we went, but as I passed through the thorn trees I turned and
looked at Sihamba, and lo! she was standing in the moonlight, her face
lifted towards the sky, weeping softly and wringing her hands. Then for
the first time I felt a little afraid.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE WEDDING
The marriage morning of Ralph and Suzanne broke brightly; never have I
seen a fairer. It was spring time, and the veldt was clothed with the
fresh green grass and starred everywhere with the lily blooms that
sprang among it. The wind blew softly, shaking down the dewdrops from
the growing corn, while from every bush and tree came the cooing of
unnumbered doves. Beneath the eave of the _stoep_ the pair of
red-breasted swallows which had built there for so many years were
finishing their nest, and I watched them idly, for to me they were old
friends, and would wheel about my head, touching my cheek with their
wings. Just then they paused from their task, or perhaps it was at
length completed, and flying to a bough of the peach tree a few yards
away, perched there together amidst the bright bloom, and nestling
against each other, twittered forth their song of joy and love.
It was at this moment that Sihamba walked up to the _stoep_ as though
to speak to me.
“The Swallow and the Swallow’s mate,” she said, following my eyes to
where the little creatures swung together on the beautiful bough.
“Yes,” I answered, for her fancy seemed to me of good omen, “they have
built their nest, and now they are thanking God before they begin to
live together and rear their young in love.”
As the words left my lips a quick shadow swept across the path of
sunlit ground before the house, two strong wings beat, and a brown
hawk, small but very fierce, being of a sort that preys upon small
birds, swooped downwards upon the swallows. One of them saw it, and
slid from the bough, but the other the hawk caught in its talons, and
mounted with it high into the air. In vain did its mate circle round it
swiftly, uttering shrill notes of distress; up it went steadily as
pitiless as death.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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