The Devil-Tree of El Dorado: A Novel

by Frank Aubrey

  CHAPTER XIX.

  HOPES AND FEARS.

  Amongst other advantages of the peace or truce that had been arrangedwith the mysterious Coryon, one was that Elwood and Templemore werefree to visit the canyon and the caves where their reserve stores lay,and assure themselves that they were all safe. To do this they had toarrange to be away one night, since it was a day's journey each way.That night they passed in the cavern--which they had named 'MonellaCave' in honour of their friend; the canyon itself they called 'FairyValley'--and their camp equipage being all found intact where theyhad hidden it away, they had everything at hand for making themselvescomfortable. They found, on examination, that the stone that closedthe entrance was in the same position as when they had left it. Havingremoved the wooden bars, they rolled it to one side, and looked outinto the gloomy depths of Roraima Forest.

  From this outlook Templemore turned back with a shudder of disgust.

  "How I hate that forest!" he exclaimed. "How miserable it seems outthere! Verily it is wonderful, if you come to think of it, that we everhad the patience and perseverance to cut our way through to this place."

  "We never should have done so, but for Monella's influence," observedLeonard. "How strange it all seems, doesn't it? Now that we are backhere, we could almost think all we have been through a dream. One thingis certain; no other party of explorers would ever work their waythrough this wood as we did; they would get disheartened before the endof the first week. Nor could they possibly do any good by persevering,unless they had that to guide them which Monella had. What is thatpiece of white over there?"

  And Leonard indicated a white patch upon a tree-trunk at the edge ofthe clearing.

  Templemore took out his glasses and looked through them.

  "It's a piece of paper," he cried excitedly. "Some one's been here! Wemust go out and inquire into this!" The ladder was quickly got out, andthey hurried down it and across the clearing to the tree that bore theunexpected _affiche_. But, though the paper must have been purposelynailed in its place it was blank; on opening it, however, they founda few straight lines that formed a somewhat vague resemblance to theletter M.

  "Matava has been here!" Leonard cried out. "All he can do in thewriting line is to make some marks that mean M--his own initial, youknow. Poor fellow! Fancy his venturing here to seek for us!"

  The paper had been folded many times, the 'M' being in the inside;and it had been nailed just under an overhanging piece of bark, as aprotection from the weather.

  "He must have executed this elaborate piece of penmanship at 'MonellaLodge'," said Jack, "and brought it with him in case his journey hereshould be in vain. He's a good fellow! Knowing, as we do, how he andall his tribe abhor this wood and the mountain, we can appreciatethe devotion that led him to screw up his courage so far. And then tohave come for nothing! It's too bad, poor chap! What a pity we couldnot have got down here and seen him! Plainly he had some hope we mightreturn, or he would not have left this simple yet ingeniously contrivedmessage for us!"

  "His hope would be but a faint one at best," Leonard replied gravely."Having been here and found the entrance fast closed, and after ourfailing to make any signals, as arranged, I fear he will carry back analarming tale to Georgetown."

  "I fear so too, Leonard," Jack assented very seriously. "They will beterribly alarmed about us; worse than if he had gone straight backwithout coming here."

  That evening, after they had cooked their evening meal, they sat by thesmouldering fire, both silent and both thoughtful. Jack smoked awaymoodily at his pipe; Leonard was absolutely idle, except that he turnedhis eyes, now on the glow of failing daylight overhead, then down atthe scene around him.

  Each knew what was in the other's mind; yet neither liked to be thefirst to speak of it. But at last Jack spoke.

  "It's no use blinking the fact, Leonard," he began, "that this visitof Matava here and the account he is sure to carry back is a seriousmatter. Our friends will be more than alarmed; they will, perhaps, giveus up for dead. This raises the whole question again, What are we goingto do here, how long are we going to stay, and what about getting back?We can't stay here for ever--at least, _I_ certainly don't mean to. Idon't like the idea of going away and leaving you here. Where are wedrifting to?"

  Leonard was gloomy. He had been so more or less ever since thatconversation with Monella about Ulama. For a few minutes he made noreply; then said, with a tinge of bitterness in his tone,

  "You must wait awhile, Jack. I am not prepared to say yet, but--it maybe I shall be ready to clear out soon with you."

  Jack raised his eyebrows and gave a brief, but keen, glance at hisfriend. Then he smoked on stolidly for a while and ruminated.

  "There's one who will never go back with us," presently he went on,"and that's Monella. He spoke truly when he said he should neverreturn to 'civilisation.' He seems to have resolved to make his homehere for the future. He is now the king's right hand--his 'guide,counsellor, and friend,' with him constantly, except when he's awayin the place they call Myrlanda, on some mysterious business. And,perhaps, the oddest thing of all is that he is the most popular man atthe court--even with those he has, in a sense, displaced. You wouldthink there would be all kinds of envy, and hatred, and jealousy, andcounter-plotting, and general 'ructions,' when a stranger, suddenlycome from goodness knows where, stepped upon the scene and becamestraight away the favourite and confidant and counsellor of the king!Yet, the more he takes that character upon himself, the more they allseem to like him!"

  "Who can help liking him?" Leonard sighed. "Who can help loving him?Even where he reproves, he does it so tenderly you only love him themore for it. How can any one feel jealous, or angry, or envious with aman who behaves to all as he does? For myself I do not wonder; he wasborn to be a leader of men, as I said long ago; he has that magneticattraction that makes a great commander--a commander who inspires suchdevotion that thousands and hundreds of thousands are ready to givetheir lives for but a glance of approval or a word of praise. Therecan't be many such men at this moment in the world; there cannot havebeen many since the world was made. But, when such a man appears, hequickly spreads his influence around him."

  Jack gave a little laugh; but not an ill-natured one.

  "You are as full as ever of enthusiasm for your hero," he remarked,"though he _has_ been a sort of cold shower-bath to you lately, eh?"

  Leonard coloured, and shifted uneasily on his seat.

  "How did you know that?" he asked.

  "I guessed it, old man. In fact, I saw the 'cold shower-bath' in hiseye that day--you know."

  "Yes--perhaps you are not far out, Jack. However, I promised to leavethings in his hands, and there they must remain at present. Of hisregard for me I have no doubt whatever--or for us both. If he cannot dothe almost impossible, I shall accept my fate, and try to bear it aswell as may be. Let us say no more about it now."

  Jack, who for all his usual habit of appearing somewhat unobservant,could see most things, thought he could have told his friend of someone else who was displaying signs of unhappiness under Monella's 'coldshower-bath' treatment--Ulama, to wit. She had become very quiet andgrave of late; and, indeed, the fresh, childish gaiety she had shownduring the first few days after their arrival had disappeared. ButJack discreetly decided to keep these thoughts to himself, and letevents take their course. He knew that they were in the keeping of ahead wiser and more far-seeing than his own--Monella's. Of late theyhad seen comparatively little of him; he was most of his time eithercloseted with the king, or had gone, it was said, to Myrlanda, to visitSanaima, the chief of the 'White Priests.' On these occasions he wouldbe away for two or three days together. Yet, whenever either of theyoung men chanced to run against him--or, if they met at the king'stable--they found no alteration in his manner. Indeed, he showed, ifanything, increased kindliness in both his words and actions, oftengoing out of his way to do some little thing, in a manner all his own,to show, before whoever might be present, his cordial feelings towardsthem
. For the rest, he had the air of one whose mind is charged withanxious and weighty thoughts, and both Templemore and Elwood _felt_rather than knew that he was occupied with fears of trouble in thefuture.

  One morning, a few days after the visit to the canyon, Monella invitedLeonard to walk out with him, and they went together to the place theyhad named 'Monella's Height.'

  The day was clear and bright, and a slight breeze came sighing throughthe tree-tops. The scene around was full of soft repose, soothing andcuriously satisfying to the mind. But Leonard noticed it not to-day;his heart beat fast, and his colour came and went, for something inMonella's manner told him that he was about to hear a statement ofmoment on the subject that was always uppermost in his thoughts. Hetried to brace himself to bear the worst, if it must come; but hiseffort was not too successful.

  "My son," Monella presently began, "I promised to speak with you, whenI could, upon the matter we talked about one day. Is your mind stillthe same concerning it?"

  Was it? Did he need to ask? Leonard impulsively replied. And helaunched into a rhapsody that need not here be given at length. Monellalistened in silence till the young man had finished, and then went on,

  "Have you considered whether your wish is a wise--a final one? That,were it granted, you must remain here for good? Never to return to yourown people?"

  "Why, never?" Leonard asked. "In the future--one day, perhaps----"

  Monella shook his head.

  "You must clearly understand," he said, "that that cannot be. I havetold you all along that I never expected to return from my journeyhere; and now I know that I shall never leave this place. And youand your friend--you will have ere long to decide either to stayhere for good, or leave for good. If you elect to go, the king willsend you away rich--so rich that you will no more need to strive forwealth; if to stay, he will give you posts of honour where you canprofitably employ yourselves in helping me in the great task I haveset myself--the teaching of the true religion of the one great God tothese my people; for"--he continued, when Leonard looked up at him insurprise--"it is true that I am one of this nation by descent, and thatI have, therefore, 'after many days,' only wandered back to mine ownpeople. But I have seen too much of the world outside to love it; mypeople desire to keep to themselves, and I can only, from what I haveseen and experienced, confirm them in that wish. I cannot find it inmy conscience to do otherwise. Therefore, we are resolved that thereshall be no intercourse between us and the great world beyond. It isuseless to say more upon the subject; it is settled beyond all reachof argument or discussion. Hence, it will be necessary for both youand your friend to decide whether to remain and cast in your lot withus for your whole future lives, or to say farewell and return--butnot empty-handed--to your own people. It is a serious and weightymatter for you to decide; therefore should not be settled hastily. Noris there any need for haste; take as long as you please to think itover. Wait awhile, till you have seen more of the place, and have cometo know the people better. Or wait until"--here the speaker's voicebecame impressive well-nigh to sternness--"until I shall have stampedout this serpent brood that hath too long held this fair land in itsloathsome coils. Then shall ye see a new era here--an era of peace, andcheerfulness, and godliness--and ye shall see that it is good to dwellin such a country."

  "I do not believe that any amount of reflection can alter my wishes inthis matter," Leonard answered earnestly. "Painful as the thought ofnever seeing my friends again would be, yet it would be still harderto leave here and never look again on her my heart has chosen for itsqueen--aye, for years before I saw her. No! Now that fate has led me toher, nothing in this world shall part us--if the decision rests withme."

  Monella regarded the young man fixedly, and there were both affectionand admiration in his glance. Very handsome Leonard looked, with thelight in his open honest eyes, and the flush upon his cheek. ThenMonella's look waxed overcast as from a passing shadow, and he madeanswer, with a sigh,

  "Youth, with its hopes and aspirations, when they come from honestpromptings, is always fair to look upon; more's the pity that theseaspirations all lead to but one end--sorrow, and disappointment, andweariness. Verily, all is vanity, vanity! We travel by different roads,but we all arrive at the same goal." He looked dreamily away acrossthe landscape to the far distant horizon; then continued, as thoughtalking to himself: "Yet youth pleases, because it desires to live inlove--and love is God and Heaven in one. It is the principal of theonly two things--it and memory--we carry with us in our passage fromthis life to the next. Love and memory are two great indestructibleattributes of the human soul. True, we take with us our 'character,'as it may be called, but that counts little, unless it be founded uponlove. And memory is the ever-living witness showing forth whether ourlife here has been influenced mainly by selfishness, or ambition, orhate, or cruelty, or--love. For only the love shall live and flourishagain; all the rest shall wither and die. Ye hear of 'undying hate,'but there is no such thing. All hates, even, die out at last; love onlylives for ever and can never die."

  He paused, and remained for a space gazing into the distance. Finally,he turned again to Leonard.

  "Come with me, and find your friend; I have that to show you that Iwish you seriously to consider."

  They walked together down the hill. Meanwhile he continued,

  "You say your mind is made up, if the decision rests with you. Well,nominally, it rests with the king, of course; but, in reality, Isuspect, in this case with the maiden herself. The king is too fond ofher--too anxious for her happiness--to desire to thwart her wishes. Andhe has remarked of late that she is not as she used to be; that she hasfits of sadness and melancholy. Her state alarms him. I think, perhaps,he fears it may be the first sign of what is called here the 'falloa.'But," looking at Leonard with a half-smile, "I suspect there is aremedy for her disease, whereas there is none known for the 'falloa.'"

  When Leonard heard these words his heart and pulses bounded, and hefelt indeed as though walking upon air. Nor did he forget what he owedin the matter to his friend. His breast swelled with gratitude, and hepoured out his thanks with a rush of words that stopped only when hecaught sight of Templemore coming towards them.

  Leonard ran to meet him, and somewhat incoherently explained whatMonella had been saying, while Monella led the way to his ownapartments in the palace.

  When they were seated there he went over again most of what he hadimpressed on Leonard--for Jack had understood but little of Elwood'simpetuous talk--and added,

  "Now I want you to advise your friend and consult with him, lest heshould decide too hastily; and that must not be. I also must speakfurther with the king. You see," he continued gravely, "this is aserious thing. The king's son-in-law will look forward to be king oneday; therefore he must not be lightly chosen. Again, to choose one ofan alien race is no small thing. For myself, I am free from any worldlyprejudices about birth, and 'family,' and 'royal blood,' and all thatvain, foolish cant. And the king is of the same mind, and wants only tochoose for his child the one who pleases her, provided he is worthy.For that I have passed my word to him. I have lived long upon the earthand have consorted with many men; thus I have learned to judge ofcharacter and disposition. And I have met none to whom I would soonertrust a daughter of mine own, than to our friend here. On that point,therefore, I have been able to satisfy the king; and fate seems to havesettled the rest beforehand. For, incredible as the sceptic may regardit, these two had met in visions long before they encountered oneanother in the flesh. Thus, in the present, as in the past, fate pointsthe way, and so it will be in the future. For no one can escape hisdestiny. For good or ill, each has a destiny prepared for him, and thatdestiny he must perforce fulfil."