Jasper Lyle Part 44

"It is my Marion's misfortune, not her fault, that she is so allied,"

replied Ormsby. "I love her, and she loves me, and we will not be parted."

Mr Daveney's mind felt somewhat lightened of its weight of anxiety on seeing his old friend Sir Adrian Fairfax. He did not believe, for an instant, that, by any circ.u.mstances, Lyle could be absolved from punishment; but a vague hope filled his breast that the convict's life would be spared. Stern and cold and unfeeling as Sir John Manvers had been in his communications with him, the mild-tempered Daveney experienced the deepest compa.s.sion towards the father of such a son.

But what if he had known that that son was the legitimate first-born of the baronet?

And how had Sir John received the fatal news that his ill-starred son Jasper was a fettered prisoner within a few hundred yards of his own marquee?

On the day after hearing who this Lee really was, he had sent for Colonel Graham, who stood next in command, and desired that whenever the convict should be brought into the encampment, Colonel Graham should be ready to receive him, without reference to the higher authority. He dreaded lest a panic should seize him on suddenly hearing of Jasper's unwelcome approach.

Accustomed to his cold manner, his aide-de-camp had, on the convict's arrival, placed before Sir John the doc.u.ment from Colonel Graham reporting the outlaw's capture.

"You may go, sir," said Sir John, on receiving this dire intelligence; and he did not lift the paper, on which he recognised the handwriting, until the canvas screen dropped between him and the young officer.

He opened it and tried to read it through; the letters swam before his eyes, they turned blood-red, they blazed like characters of fire, the paper fell to the ground, and for the first time in his life the strong man fainted away.

A very few minutes sufficed for the hasty review Sir Adrian took of the a.s.sembled forces, and profiting by Colonel Graham's offer of his marquee, he retired thither, and sent at once for Mr Daveney.

Frankfort, who, with the General, awaited the Commissioner, wrung the hand of his friend in silence, and all four entering the tent, where some refreshment had been hastily spread, Colonel Graham informed Sir Adrian of the apprehension of the rebel convict.

Frankfort was a stranger to the old colonel, who was fortunately too much occupied with matters of duty to notice the death-like hue which suddenly overspread the young man's face. At a signal from Sir Adrian, Mr Daveney drew Frankfort into the air, but he turned from the sight of the busy camp. At this moment the Commissioner's attention was attracted towards a little cavalcade of a couple of wagons drawn by mules, and attended by a mounted escort of one of the town levies: it pa.s.sed the guard-house, and was directed by a soldier to the dwelling of Mr Trail.

Anon, a messenger hastened across the square, and announced the arrival of Lady Amabel Fairfax. The messenger was fortunately Ormsby, who knew by Frankfort's expression of horror and surprise, that he had learned the tidings of the day. Daveney hurried off; neither of the young men spoke. They strode on till a thicket shut the camp from their sight, and, descending a bank, cast themselves on the turf.

"Where is Eleanor?" asked Frankfort.

"Do you see those willows?" said Ormsby, pointing up the little rivulet; "the tops of them wave just below her window. She has been almost dead, but is better and more resigned, for she thinks--"

"That he is still dead?" said Frankfort; and, in the bitterness of his heart, he added, "Would to Heaven he were!" The next moment he prayed G.o.d to forgive him, and, burying his face in his hands, groaned aloud.

"She believes," replied Ormsby, "that he has again escaped."

"Lady Amabel arrived!" exclaimed Sir Adrian, in great surprise, as Mr Trail entered Colonel Graham's tent with the information.

"Arrived--impossible! have you seen her?"

"I have, sir."

"Now, then, thank Heaven," said Sir Adrian! "had I known yesterday that my wife was travelling, I should have been less able for the work I had before me. Mr Trail, it may be well to inform you that, in spite of this calm, which apparently pervades the whole of Kafirland, the Gaika warriors are a.s.sembling in the mountains, and my trusty Fingoes have warned me that they are meditating an attack on the camp. I have long had the idea that Sir John Manvers was not so prepared for mischief as myself and I hastened hither; but I have distributed my forces I hope advantageously; and although we may not keep the enemy out altogether, we may check his advance, and meet it with caution. It is time that I conferred with Sir John: it is strange that I should have received no message from him."

The three gentlemen left the marquee. Colonel Graham bent his way to the tents of his regiment; the other two directed their steps to the canvas pavilion. A military surgeon met them at the door--dismay was painted on his face.

General Manvers lay as dead upon his camp bedstead--his jaw dropped, his cheek sunken, his eyes glaring and fixed. He had been found in this state by his servant. The doc.u.ment relative to Lyle was crushed between his fingers.

While Sir Adrian stood beside this rigid object of despair, the eyelids quivered, a faint sigh stole from the blue parted lips, and some low words were breathed, not uttered, but Sir Adrian distinguished them.

"My son! my son!--my first-born! Save my miserable son Jasper!"

The sudden surprise of seeing Sir Adrian Fairfax caused the unfortunate man to start up; he was bewildered--looked first at one, and then at the other, of the two kind men who leaned over him. The surgeon was utterly in the dark as to the cause of this sudden seizure.

Greatly disturbed at what he saw, deeply anxious about his wife, and keenly alive to the responsibilities of his command, Sir Adrian was anxious to withdraw, but Sir John held him firmly by the hand.

"Fairfax," said the latter, "I _must_ speak with you alone."

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.

"Preferring my travelling accommodation to the discomforts of the little village inn at B--, where we halted last night, thirty miles from this, I sent Klaas to the mission station, for Mr M--, who I knew would give my people milk and vegetables; but Klaas, hearing on his way that Mr M--was absent, descended towards a Kafir Kraal in the valley. You know how cautious he is--he never trusts a Kafir in time of peace, so he crawled on his hands and knees to a bush crowning a height, where he stopped to reconnoitre. He was horror-stricken, when, on looking down upon the location, he saw two murdered Englishmen lying among the stones and thorn-bushes, and, at a little distance from them, sat a council of Kafirs. He waited till it grew dusk, and then crept down to listen to their conversation. He brought me back the fearful intelligence, that all the Kafir servants in the colony are to be mustered this day, by the Gaika warriors, in the mountains.--Ah! I see," exclaimed Lady Amabel, looking from her husband to the Commissioner, "that this is no news to you. Gracious Heaven! is it possible that these fearful savages are likely to come down upon us? Oh! Adrian, Adrian! I am glad I have come."

"There spoke the true soldier's wife," said the General; "but I trust we are too well prepared, for the enemy to approach our lines; they may hara.s.s us in many ways. They have already, I understand, swept off our cattle from the hills."

But all day long the wary foe, from his mountain fastnesses, watched the proceedings in the British camp. All idea of attacking it was given up for the present, and, at the close of day, several Kafirs, graceful, gentle, dignified, and smiling, came to offer milk and corn and wood for sale.

Lady Amabel, who had never seen these wild beings before, looked from the garden at the dusky groups mingling with the soldiery, and could scarcely be persuaded that these were the people meditating a fiery onset with the burning brand and the gleaming a.s.segai upon the camp they entered like messengers of peace.

Men and women, however, were armed with the weapons used by their race of old.

Despite this fair seeming on the part of the Gaika Kafirs, every preparation was made for their reception in hostile array. All day long scouts had been seen skimming along the ridges; much of the cattle belonging to the burgher camps had been carried off, and here and there glimmered a telegraphic fire.

No member of Mr Daveney's household retired to rest: the night was spent much as I have described one on a similar occasion at Annerley.

Still there was a certain feeling of security in being surrounded by a large, well-disciplined garrison, _well prepared_.

Wearied with her journey, and attired in a loose morning robe; Lady Amabel reclined on a camp chair; Eleanor was seated on the cushions at her feet, and both had dropped into an uneasy slumber, when they were awakened by the echoes of the morning gun.

No sign of scouts upon the ridges, no smoke from dying signal-fires; all was still, calm, and peaceful in the outer world. The heavens shone serene and clear, the sun careered in brightness along the hills, and the busy camp was soon astir.

And so pa.s.sed another day. Kafir men and women and children again came among the soldiery, bartering and chattering and laughing; you would, indeed, have thought they were the "pastoral and peaceful race"

described by some deluded men.

The door of Gray's hut was closed that day, and none saw him but Mr Trail.

Midnight went by; the camp was hushed in deep repose, though the ear at intervals was startled by the challenge of a sentry, or the rattle of muskets, as the officers on duty went their rounds, and, fatigued with the excitement and hara.s.s of the previous hours, most of the community, except the watchful sentinels, were hushed in sleep. Even Sir John Manvers's delirium had yielded to the anodynes administered, and he lay stupified and still, watched by Dr E--and his servant.

But Eleanor, who had longed to be alone, and who was too wretched to fear for herself, sat with the Book of Consolation before her, in her little chamber. The sofa-bed was undisturbed, her light burnt low, and she had just unfastened her hair to bind it up again ere she lay down to rest, when the flame of her candle flickered in a sudden current of air.

In the room were two tiny windows, scarcely two feet square, at right angles with each other. That to the east was uncurtained and was lighted by the coming dawn; she looked up at the one opposite to her; it was open, and a face filled it as a picture would fill a frame.