Aletta Part 28

No. There was no mistaking it. There he stood, and he was looking down into May's eyes as he talked to her, was holding her hand in his for a considerably longer time than was necessary for the purpose of bidding farewell. There he stood, her perfidious lover--he who had left her with such words of sworn affection upon his lips, that would be with her until her dying day--he, the thought of whom, hourly, momentarily, it might be in peril of death on the battle field, had filled her mind waking and sleeping--while all the while here he was in quiet safety, carrying on his intrigue with this girl. There he stood; there could not be two Colvin Kershaws in the world, that ingenious story of the "double" notwithstanding. This was the "double" then? Yet it was wearing exactly the same clothes, exactly the same hat, even, as when taking that last farewell of herself--that farewell whose memory had thrilled her heart ever since.

"Courage, Aletta! Courage!" she heard Adrian say, but his voice sounded as from another world. "Keep up a little longer. Now we will make certain. Look!"

The man had parted from his companion now, and as he came down to the front gate, his head was half turned, as with a last loving look towards May, who was still on the _stoep_. Then he came out into the road, and the door of the house closed.

He walked slowly along at first, not looking up. Then suddenly he did look up, and caught the eyes of the two on the opposite side. The effect was magical. With a bewildered start he half stopped as though irresolute, then, averting his eyes, he trebled his pace and walked rapidly away. But during that swift second his glance had met that of Aletta straight and full; and if ever a human countenance showed dismay, consternation, guilt, utter confusion, a.s.suredly all these emotions were stamped upon this man's countenance in that brief moment.

"Well now, was I mistaken?" said Adrian again, his voice sounding even farther away this time. "Can you believe your own eyes now, Aletta?

You have seen?"

"Oh yes," she gasped. "I must believe my own eyes. Yes--yes, I have seen."

The girl's face was colourless, her lips livid and shaking. Her steps even seemed unsteady. Adrian feared that she would faint. But she did not.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

VERY LIKE A PRISONER.

Colvin was beginning to have enough of it.

He had spent some weeks with Cronje's force, and into that short s.p.a.ce about half a lifetime of strange and stirring experience seemed to have crowded itself. Besides the Modder River battle, he had witnessed the British repulse at Magersfontein, and had seen several desultory skirmishes. More than one narrow escape had he known, and had been slightly cut about the hand by the splinter of a spent sh.e.l.l. But he had become inured to the rush and whirr of missiles, and now paid no heed whatever to them. He had likewise adopted the American's suggestion, and started in to take notes on his own account. He might make some use of them after the war, he declared, and, at any rate, as Acton had said, the taking of them gave him something to do. By this time, too, he had become indurated to the ghastly and horrifying sights which had so got upon his nerves at first. Yet he had had quite enough of it, and thought longingly that he would gladly be back at Pretoria.

And what stimulated this longing was the fact that during all the time he had been away he had received neither line nor word from Aletta.

At first he had thought but little of this, attributing it to a natural delay consequent on the hurry and bustle of the times. But as days became weeks he began to think it strange and to feel uneasy. Several of the burghers had received letters from their people, and plenty of messages and despatches reached the various field commandants from headquarters. Surely the influence of Piet Plessis would suffice to command means of sending through the communication for which he now began so ardently to long.

Even then no idea approaching suspicion of the real state of affairs crossed his mind. Some technical difficulty might be standing in the way--Piet might not be able to use his official position for such purposes. No, that did not seem to account for it either. Colvin began to feel anxious--he hardly knew why. He had wanted to see the fighting, and he had seen a great deal of it--enough, he thought, to last him for life. The fierce glare of summer midday, with its dust-clouds and chronic and tormenting thirst--the bitter chill of night on the high veldt--lying out under the stars, while every now and then the searchlight in the beleaguered town away in the distance swept round its fan-like ray, now and then drawing the m.u.f.fled boom of a shot--of all this he had had enough. He made up his mind to obtain Commandant Botma's permission to return to Pretoria.

Hardly had he done so than a letter was put into his hand. Ah, the longed-for communication at last! and the thrill of delight that went through him almost made up for the long, wearing anxiety. But this was nipped in the bud by a second glance at the envelope. It was not directed in Aletta's handwriting.

He tore it open. A glance at the end of the sheet showed that the handwriting was that of Piet Plessis' wife. At the same time an enclosure fell out. This at any rate was from Aletta. Eagerly he picked it up--then, as he mastered the contents, a look of the blankest dismay and bewilderment came over his features. For the contents were very brief, and they ran thus:

"I am going home at once. No explanations are needed, are they? For, remember--_I saw_.

"Good-bye, Aletta."

He stared at the sheet of paper, and his look of bewilderment grew blanker and blanker. What did it mean? What on earth _could_ it mean?

No explanations needed? But they very much _were_ needed, he thought.

And what on earth mystery lay covered by those words, so significantly underlined--"_I saw_?" What did the writer see? The thing pa.s.sed comprehension. He turned to the other letter with some wild hope of finding enlightenment there.

It did not afford him much. Aletta had asked her to enclose this note to him, wrote Mrs Plessis, and was going back home to Ratels Hoek at once. "I hope there is nothing wrong," she went on, "but the child has been very strange during the last two or three days. I don't know what to make of it. She will not give me her confidence, and made me promise faithfully not so much as to hint to Piet that anything had upset her.

She leaves us to-morrow, and travels back home in charge of Adrian. But I trust there is nothing really the matter."

In charge of Adrian! Ah, now he began to see light. Adrian was behind whatever had happened. Why, of course. His every motive made that way.

All that cordiality of his had not altogether gone down with Colvin.

There was a suggestion of malice underlying it, which should have put him more on his guard. Adrian had played him some dirty trick in his absence, though what it might be he could as yet form no idea.

He glanced at the letter, also at the note. Both bore a date some ten days old. Why, Aletta would have been home now for days. Well, his mind was made up. Instead of returning to Pretoria, he would proceed straight to Ratels Hoek. No explanation needed! It struck him that that very thing was most urgently needed.

He applied to Andries Botma for facilities, which, being English, he would need to prosecute his journey and to ensure his safe pa.s.sage through any of the Republican forces he might fall in with. These were readily granted, and the Commandant bade him a kind and cordial farewell.

"I need not remind you, Mynheer Kershaw," he said, in Dutch, for "The Patriot" never spoke English, although perfectly able to do so, unless positively obliged--"I need not remind you that you have pledged your solemn word of honour to divulge nothing that you may have seen or heard during the time you have been with us. But it is not entirely the other side I distrust, and therefore I would impress upon you the necessity of using the greatest caution in conversing with those who, by nationality, are our own people. But many of them (with shame I say it) are not really our own people--that is, they are not heart and soul with us.

They will not strike a blow for the sacred cause--at least not yet.

They are waiting to see which will prove the victorious side--as if there could be any doubt. These are the people I would warn you against, when you are back once more across the river. But you are one of us now, for I hear you are to marry Stepha.n.u.s De la Rey's daughter.

In that receive my most cordial wishes--and carry my compliments to Stepha.n.u.s and all our good friends in the Wildschutsberg. And if hereafter I can be of service to you at any time--why, it will be to me an agreeable duty. Farewell."

Colvin shook hands warmly with the kindly Dutch Commandant, and, armed with his credentials, went forth. At the moment he little thought of the weight of that last promise, still less what it might or might not be destined to mean for him in the not distant future. He thought more on the subject of the other's congratulations, for they stirred up a very real and desolating misgiving. What if events should already have rendered them devoid of meaning?

His journey to the border seemed to him intolerably long and depressing, but its monotony was varied more than once by meeting with a party of burghers patrolling the country or on their way to join Cronje's force.

These would scan his credentials narrowly and suspiciously, but the name of Andries Botma was as a very talisman, and they allowed him to proceed. At the pa.s.sage of the Orange River, some delay occurred.

This, however, was at last surmounted, but it was towards the close of the third day that he found himself--riding a very tired horse--entering the Wildschutsberg range, just beyond which lay his own home, and, yet nearer, Ratels Hoek.

Straight to the latter he intended to proceed, and now, as he drew so near, for the hundredth time he was cudgelling his brains over the mystery of Aletta's strange behaviour, and for the hundredth time was forced to own himself no nearer finding a clue to it than before--except that he still connected it in some way with the evil influence or trickery of Adrian. Well, two or three hours more would clear it up, for he and Aletta would talk face to face, and in her own home.

Ah, but would they? With a dire chill the thought struck him--what if she were no longer there? had left home, perhaps, and gone away to Cape Town, as she had done before? Well, even thither he would follow her, if necessary, and claim an explanation.

What was this which had come between them? Had their times been too bright, too unclouded, rendering some such trial needful? They certainly had been that Day by day, so far from stagnating, from turning into the easy matter-of-fact groove, their love had grown--had intensified--right up to the moment of parting, so ardently mutual had it been. It had seemed that nothing could add to it--that no margin was left for any further extension of it. Yet as he rode along now, saddened, heart-desolate, almost bereaved, Colvin thought to himself that this ordeal had seemed needed to prove that there was.

As he entered the mountains, the roll as of an approaching storm had boomed sombrely away on his left. Now, in the opposite direction, beyond the range, came faint and far, other deep thunder voices. This was not thunder though. It was a sound he had become tolerably familiar with of late, the distant roll of guns. A battle was in progress in that direction. Well, it did not concern him. He was nearly at home again.

He looked up. The shadows of evening were already lowering. In the dusk something white attracted his glance. A white stone--and then, with a rush, the familiarity of the surroundings swept in upon his mind.

He had reason to know that white stone, for it was while pa.s.sing that very object he had been fired at on the night he had first seen Aletta.

The track he had been following here struck the main road, just where it forked, in the direction of his own home, and in that of Ratels Hoek.

Well, he would soon be at the latter place now, and then--and then--Ah, how that other evening came back!

This stage of his meditations received a shock, being, in fact, disturbed by a loud, harsh voice calling upon him in Dutch, and very peremptorily, to halt. It proceeded from in front and above. Looking up, Colvin became alive to the startling discovery that some twenty rifles were levelled straight at him, at a distance of about that number of yards. There was no disputing such a summons.

"Dismount!" repeated the voice.

Again there was no alternative but to comply, and, as he did so, several Boers, still keeping him covered, arose from their concealment, and came towards him. Some two or three were men from the surrounding district, whom he knew by sight, but most of them were strangers.

"Who are you?" asked the leader crisply, in Dutch. "And where are you from?"

Colvin told him. The news that he had come straight from Cronje's force in the field, and had witnessed several engagements, impressed them somewhat. They began to look at him with considerable interest and increased respect.

"_Daag_, Gideon," he exclaimed, suddenly becoming aware of the presence of Gideon Roux among the party. The Boer came forward and greeted him as though nothing had happened. They chatted a minute or two together as to the local news and so forth. Then Colvin said:

"Well now, friends, I must bid you good-night. I am going on to Stepha.n.u.s De la Rey's."

"You cannot go on to Stepha.n.u.s De la Rey's to-night," rejoined the leader promptly.

"Why not?"

"Because you have to go with us--to Commandant Schoeman's camp at Krantz Kop."