“It may be so, Mouth of the King, still I am woman, not spirit.” “Yet in every woman there dwells a spirit, or so we believe, and in thee a great one, or so we have heard and believe, O Lady of the Heavens. To thee, then, again we repeat the words of Dingaan and of his council which to-day we have said in the ears of him who thinks himself thy father. To thee the roads are open; thine are the cattle and the kraals; here is an earnest of them. Thine are the lives of men. Command now, if thou wilt, that one of us be slain before thee, and whilst thou watchest, he shall look his last upon the moon.” “I hear you,” said Rachel, quietly, “but I seek the life of none who are good. I thank the King for his gift; I wish the King well. I remember that life and death lie in my hands. Say these words to the King.” “We will say them, but wilt thou not come, O Lady, as the King desires? A regiment shall meet thee on the river bank and lead thee to his house. Unharmed shalt thou come, unharmed shalt thou return, and what thou askest that shall be given thee.” “One day, perchance, I will come, but not now. Go in peace, O Mouths of the King.” As she spoke another dark cloud floated across the moon, and when it had passed away she stood no more upon the rock. Then, seeing that she was gone, those messengers gathered up their spears and mats, and returned swiftly to Zululand. When she reached the house again Rachel told her father and mother all that had passed, laughing as she spoke. “It seems scarcely right, my dear,” said Mr. Dove, when she had done. “Those benighted heathens will really believe that you are something unearthly.” “Then let them,” she answered. “It can do no one any harm, and the power of life and death with the rest of it, unless it was all talk as I suspect, might be very useful one day. Who knows? And now the Princess of the Heavens will go and set the supper, as Noie—I beg pardon, Nonha—is off duty for the present.” Afterwards she asked Noie who was the old man with a withered hand who had spoken as the “King’s Mouth.” “Mopo is his name, Mopo or Umbopo, none other, O Zoola,” she answered. “It was he who stabbed T’Chaka, the Black One. It is said also that alone among men living, he has seen the White Spirit: the Inkosazana. Thrice he has seen her, or so goes the tale that my father, who knew everything, told to me. That is why Dingaan sent him here to make report of you.” And she told her all the wonderful story of Mopo and of the death of T’Chaka, which Rachel treasured in her mind.[*] [*] For the history of Mopo, see “Nada the Lily.”—AUTHOR. Such was Rachel’s first introduction to the Zulus, an occasion on which her undoubted histrionic abilities stood her in good stead.