CHAPTER XI
ON THE BRINK
For a few weeks after John Niel's adventure at the shooting-party noevent of any importance occurred at Mooifontein. Day followed day incharming monotony, for, whatever "gay worldlings" may think, monotonyis as full of charm as a dreamy summer afternoon. "Happy is the countrythat has no history," says the voice of wisdom, and the same remarkmaybe made with even more truth of the individual. To get up in themorning conscious of health and strength, to pursue the common round anddaily task till evening comes, and finally to go to bed pleasantly tiredand sleep the sleep of the just, is the true secret of happiness. Fierceexcitements, excursions, and alarms do not conduce either to mental orphysical well-being, and it is for this reason that we find that thosewhose lives have been chiefly concerned with them crave the most afterthe quiet round of domestic life. When they get it, often, it is true,they pant for the ardours of the fray whereof the dim and distant soundsare echoing through the spaces of their heart, in the same way that thecountries without a history are sometimes anxious to write one in theirown blood. But that is a principle of Nature, who will allow of nostanding still among her subjects, and who has ordained that strife ofone sort or another shall be the absolute condition of existence.
On the whole, John found that the life of a South African farmer camewell up to his expectations. He had ample occupation; indeed, whatbetween ostriches, horses, cattle, sheep, and crops, he was rather overthan under occupied. Nor was he much troubled by the lack of civilisedsociety, for he was a man who read a great deal, and books could beordered from Durban and Cape Town, while the weekly mail brought with ita sufficient supply of papers. On Sundays he always read the politicalarticles in the "Saturday Review" aloud to Silas Croft, who, as he grewolder, found that the print tried his eyes, an attention which theold man greatly appreciated. Silas was a well-informed man, andnotwithstanding his long life spent in a half-civilised country, hadnever lost his hold of affairs or his interest in the wide and rushinglife of the world in one of whose side eddies he lived apart. Thistask of reading the "Saturday Review" aloud had formerly been a partof Bessie's Sunday service, but her uncle was very glad to effect anexchange. Bessie's mind was not quite in tune with the profundities ofthat learned journal, and her attention was apt to wonder at the mostpointed passages.
Thus it came about, what between the "Saturday Review" and other things,that a very warm and deep attachment sprang up twixt the old man and hisyounger partner. John was a taking man, especially to the aged, for whomhe was never tired of performing little services. One of his favouritesayings was that old people should be "let down easy," and he acted upto it. Moreover, there was a quiet jollity and a bluff honesty about himwhich was undoubtedly attractive both to men and women. Above all, hewas a well-informed, experienced man, and a gentleman, in a country inwhich both were rare. Each week Silas Croft came to rely more and moreon him, and allowed things to pass more and more into his hands.
"I'm getting old, Niel," he said to him one night; "I'm getting veryold; the grasshopper is becoming a burden to me: and I'll tell you whatit is, my boy," laying his hand affectionately upon John's shoulder, "Ihave no son of my own, and you must be a son to me, as my dear Bessiehas been a daughter."
John looked up into the kindly, handsome face, crowned with itsfringe of snowy hair, and at the keen eyes set deep in it beneath theoverhanging brows, and thought of his old father who was long sincedead; and somehow he was moved, and his own eyes filled with tears.
"Ay, Mr. Croft," he said, taking the old man's hand, "that I will to thebest of my ability."
"Thank you, my boy, thank you. I don't like talking much about thesethings, but, as I said, I am getting old, and the Almighty may requiremy account any hour, and if He does I rely on you to look after thesetwo girls. It is a wild country this, and one never knows what willhappen in it from day to day, and they may want help. Sometimes I wishI were clear of the place. And now I'm going to bed. I am beginning tofeel as though I had done my day's work in the world. I'm getting feebleJohn, this is the fact of it."
After that he always called him John.
Of Jess they heard but little. She wrote every week, it is true, andgave an accurate account of all that was going on at Pretoria and ofher daily doings, but she was one of those people whose letters tell oneabsolutely nothing of themselves and of what is passing in their minds.They ought to have been headed "Our Pretoria Letter," as Bessie saiddisgustedly after reading through three sheets in Jess's curious,upright handwriting. "Once you lose sight of Jess," she went on, "shemight as well be dead for all you learn about her. Not that one learnsvery much when she is here," she added reflectively.
"She is a peculiar woman," said John thoughtfully. At first he hadmissed her very much, for, strange as she undoubtedly was, she hadtouched a new string in him, of the existence of which he had not tillthen been himself aware. And what is more, it had answered stronglyenough for some time; but now it was slowly vibrating itself intosilence again, much as a harp does when the striker takes his fingersfrom the strings. Had she stayed on another week or so the effect mighthave been more enduring.
But although Jess had gone away Bessie had not. On the contrary, she wasalways about him, surrounding him with that tender care a woman, howeverinvoluntarily, cannot prevent herself from lavishing on the man sheloves. Her beauty moved about the place like a beam of light about agarden, for she was indeed a lovely woman, and as pure and good as shewas lovely. Nor could John long remain in ignorance of her liking forhimself. He was not a vain man--very much the reverse, indeed--butneither was he a fool. And it must be said that, though Bessie neveroverstepped the bounds of maidenly reserve, neither did she takeparticular pains to hide her preference. Indeed, it was too strongto permit her so to do. Not that she was animated by the half-divine,soul-searing breath of passion, such as animated her sister, which is avery rare thing, and, take it altogether, as undesirable and unsuitableto the ordinary conditions of this prosaic and work-a-day life as itis rare. But she was tenderly and truly in love after the usualyoung-womanly fashion; indeed, her passion, measured by the everydaystandard, would have proved to be a deep one. However this might be, shewas undoubtedly prepared to make John Niel a faithful and loving wife ifhe chose to ask her to marry him.
And as the weeks went on--though, of course, he knew nothing of allthis--it became a very serious question to John whether he should notask her. It is not good for a man to live alone, especially in theTransvaal, and it was not possible for him to pass day by day at theside of so much beauty and so much grace without thinking that itwould be well to draw the bond of union closer. Indeed, had John beena younger man of less experience, he would have succumbed to thetemptation much sooner than he did. But he was neither very young norvery inexperienced. Ten years or more ago, in his green and gushingyouth, as has been said, he had burnt his fingers to the bone, and alively recollection of this incident in his career heretofore had proveda very efficient warning. Also, he had reached that period of life whenmen think a great many times before they commit themselves wildly to thedeep matrimonial waters. At three-and-twenty, for the sake of a prettyface, most of us are willing to undertake the serious and in manycases overwhelming burdens, risks, and cares of family life, and theresponsibility of the parentage of a large and healthy brood, but atthree-and-thirty we take a different view of the matter. The temptationmay be great, but the per contra list is so very alarming, and wenever know even then if we see all the liabilities. Such are theblack thoughts that move in the breasts of selfish men, to the greatdisadvantage of the marriage market; and however it may lower John Nielin the eyes of those who take the trouble to follow this portion of hislife's history, in the interests of truth it must be confessed that hewas not free from them.
In short, sweet and pretty as Bessie might be, he was not violently inlove with her; and at thirty-four a man must be violently in love torush into the near risk of matrimony. But, however commendablycautious that man may be, he is a
lways liable to fall into temptationsufficiently strong to sweep away his caution and make a mockery of hisplans. However strong the rope, it has its breaking strain; and in thesame way our power of resistance to any given course depends entirelyupon the power of the temptation to draw us into it. Thus it wasdestined to be with our friend John Niel.
It was about a week after his conversation with old Silas Croft that itoccurred to John that Bessie's manner had grown rather strange of late.It seemed to him that she had avoided his society instead of showing acertain partiality for it, if not of courting it. Also, she had lookedpale and worried, and evinced a tendency to irritation that was quiteforeign to her natural sweetness of character. Now, when a person onwhom one is accustomed to depend for most of that social intercourseand those pleasant little amenities which members of one sex value fromanother, suddenly cuts off the supply without any apparent rhyme orreason, it is enough to induce a feeling of wonder, not to say ofvexation, in the breast. It never occurred to John that the reasonmight be that Bessie was truly fond of him, and perhaps unconsciouslydisappointed that he did not show a warmer interest in her. If, however,we were to examine into the facts of the case we should probablydiscover that here was the real explanation of this change. Bessie wasa straightforward young person, whose mind and purposes were as clearas running water. She was vexed with John--though she would probably nothave owned it even to herself in so many words--and her manner reflectedthe condition of her mind.
"Bessie," said John one lovely day, just as the afternoon was merginginto evening, "Bessie"--he always called her Bessie now--"I am goingdown to the black wattle plantation by the big mealie patch. I want tosee how those young trees are doing. If you have done your cooking"--forshe had been engaged in making a cake, as young ladies, to their souls'health, often have to do in the Colonies--"I wish you would put on yourhat and come with me. I don't believe that you have been out to-day."
"Thank you, Captain Niel, I don't think that I want to come out."
"Why not?" he said.
"Oh, I don't know--because there is too much to do. If I go out thatstupid girl will burn the cake," and she pointed to a Kafir _intombi_(young girl), who, arrayed in a blue smock, a sweet smile, and a featherstuck in her wool, was vigorously employed in staring at the flies onthe ceiling and sucking her black fingers. "Really," she added with alittle stamp, "one needs the patience of an angel to put up with thatidiot's stupidity. Yesterday she smashed the biggest dinner-dish andthen brought me the pieces with a broad grin on her face and asked meto 'make them one' again. The white people were so clever, she said, itwould be no trouble to me. If they could make the china plate once, andcould cause flowers to grow on it, it would surely be easy to make itwhole again. I did not know whether to laugh or cry or throw the piecesat her."
"Look here, young woman," said John, taking the sinning girl by the armand leading her solemnly to the oven, which was opened to receive thecake; "look here, if you let that cake burn while the _inkosikaas_ (ladychieftain) is away, when I come back I will cram you into the oven toburn with it. I cooked a girl like that in Natal last year, and when shecame out she was quite white!"
Bessie translated this fiendish threat, whereat the girl grinned fromear to ear and murmured "_Koos_" (chief) in cheerful acquiescence. AKafir maid on a pleasant afternoon is not troubled by the prospect ofbeing baked at nightfall, which is a long way off, especially when it isJohn Niel who threatened the baking. The natives about Mooifontein hadtaken the measure of John's foot by this time with accuracy. His threatswere awful, but his performances were not great. Once, indeed, he wasforced to engage in a stand-up fight with a great fellow who thoughtthat he could be taken advantage of on this account, but after he hadsucceeded in administering a sound hiding to that champion he was neveragain troubled in this respect.
"Now," he said, "I think we have provided for the safety of your cake,so come on."
"Thank you, Captain Niel," answered Bessie, looking at him in abewitching little way she well knew how to assume, "thank you, but Ithink I had rather not go out walking." This was what she said, but hereyes added, "I am offended with you; I want to have nothing to do withyou."
"Very well," said John; "then I suppose I must go alone," and he took uphis hat with the air of a martyr.
Bessie looked through the open kitchen door at the lights and shadowsthat chased each other across the swelling bosom of the hill behind thehouse.
"It certainly is very fine," she said; "are you going far?"
"No, only round the plantation."
"There are so many puff-adders down there, and I hate snakes," suggestedBessie, by way of finding another excuse for not coming.
"Oh, I'll look after the puff-adders--come along."
"Well," she said at last, as she slowly unrolled her sleeves, which hadbeen tucked up during the cake-making, and hid her beautiful whitearms, "I will come, not because I want to come, but because you haveover-persuaded me. I don't know what is happening to me," she added,with a little stamp and a sudden filling of her eyes with tears, "I donot seem to have any will of my own left. When I want to do one thingand you want me to do another it is I who have to do what you want; andI tell you I don't like it, Captain Niel, and I shall be very cross outwalking;" and sweeping past him, on her way to fetch her hat, in thatpeculiarly graceful fashion which angry women can sometimes assume, sheleft John to reflect that he never saw a more charming or taking lady inEurope or out of it.
He had half a mind to risk it and ask her to marry him. But then,perhaps, she might refuse him, and that was a contingency which he didnot quite appreciate. After their first youth few men altogether relishthe idea of putting themselves in a position that gives a capriciouswoman an opportunity of first figuratively "jumping" on them, andthen perhaps holding them up to the scorn and obloquy of her friends,relations, and other admirers. For, unfortunately, until the opposite isclearly demonstrated, many men are apt to believe that not a few womenare by nature capricious, shallow, and unreliable; and John Niel,owing, possibly, to that unhappy little experience of his youth, must bereckoned among their misguided ranks.