Zulu (African people) -- Fiction; Zululand (South Africa) -- History -- Fiction
that she misdoubted her of him and his character, her husband answered
obstinately, that it was his duty to turn a sinner from his way, and
declined to pursue the conversation. So Ishmael continued to come.
For her part Rachel did her best to avoid him, instructing Noie to keep
a constant look-out both with her eyes and through the Kaffirs, and to
warn her of his advent. Then she would slip away into the bush or down
to the seashore, and remain there till he was gone, or if he came when
she could not do so, in the evening for instance, would keep Noie at
her side, and on the first opportunity retire to her own room.
Now the result of this method of self-protection was to cause Ishmael
to hate Noie as bitterly as she hated him. He guessed that the girl
knew the dreadful truth about him; that it was he, and no other, who
had counselled Dingaan to kill her father and all his family, and take
her by force into his house, and although she said nothing of it, he
suspected that she had told everything to Rachel. Moreover, it was she
who always thwarted him, who prevented him time upon time from having a
single word alone with her mistress. Therefore he determined to be
revenged upon Noie whenever an opportunity occurred. But as yet he
could find none, since if he were to tell the Zulus that she still
lived, and cause her to be killed or taken away, he was sure that it
would mean a final breach with the Dove family, all of whom had learned
to love this beautiful orphan maid. So he nursed his rage in secret.
Meanwhile his passion increased daily, burning ever more fiercely for
its continued repression, until at length the chance for which he had
waited so long came to him.
Having become aware of Rachel’s habit of slipping away whenever he
appeared, he showed himself on horseback at a little distance, then
waited a while and, instead of going up to the mission station, rode
round it, and hid in some bush whence he could command a view of the
surrounding country. Presently he saw Rachel, who was alone, for she
had not waited to call Noie, hurrying towards the seashore, along the
edge of that kloof down which ran the stream where the crocodiles
lived. Presently, when she had gone too far to return to the house if
she caught sight of him, he followed after her, and, leaving his horse,
at last came up with her seated on a rock by the pool in which she had
bathed on the morning of the massacre.
Walking softly in his veld-schoens, or shoes made of raw hide, on the
sand, Rachel knew nothing of his coming until his shadow fell upon her.
Then she sprang up and saw him, smiling and bowing, the ostrich-plume
hat in his hand. Her first impulse was to run away, but recovering
herself she nodded in a friendly fashion, and bade him “Good day,”
adding:
“What are you doing here, Mr. Ishmael, hunting?”
“Yes,” he answered, “that’s it. Hunting you. It has been a long chase,
but I have caught you at last.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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