CHAPTER XIII
FRANK MULLER SHOWS HIS HAND
Presently Muller turned round. "Do you know why I have told you allthis, _Oom_ Silas?" he asked.
"No."
"Because I want you to understand that you and all the Englishmen inthis country are in a very dangerous position. The war is coming, andwhether it goes for you or against you, you must suffer. You Englishmenhave many enemies. You have got all the trade and own nearly half theland, and you are always standing up for the black people, whom theBoers hate. It will go hard with you if there is a war. You will be shotand your houses will be burnt, and if you lose the day those who escapewill be driven out of the country. It will be the Transvaal for theTransvaalers, then, and Africa for the Africanders."
"Well, Frank Muller, and if all this should come to pass, what of it?What are you driving at, Frank Muller? You don't show me your hand likethis for nothing."
The Boer laughed. "Of course I don't, _Oom_ Silas. Well, if you want toknow, I will tell you what I mean. I mean that I alone can protect youand your place and people in the bad times which are coming. I have moreinfluence in the land than you know of. Perhaps even, I could staveoff the war, and if it suited me to do so I would do it. At the leastI could keep you from being harmed, that I know. But I have my price,_Oom_ Silas, as we all have, and it must be money down and no credit."
"I don't understand you and your dark sayings," said the old man coldly."I am a straightforward man, and if you will tell me what you mean Iwill give you my answer; if not, I don't see the good of our going ontalking."
"Very well; I will tell you what I mean. I mean _Bessie_. I mean that Ilove your niece and want to marry her--ay, I mean to marry her by fairmeans or foul--and that she will have nothing to say to me."
"And what have I to do with that, Frank Muller? The girl is her ownmistress. I cannot dispose of her in marriage, even if I wished it, asthough she were a colt or an ox. You must plead your own suit and takeyour own answer."
"I have pleaded my suit and I have got my answer," replied the Boer withpassion. "Don't you understand, she will have nothing to say to me? Sheis in love with that damned _rooibaatje_ Niel whom you have brought uphere. She is in love with him, I say, and will not look at me."
"Ah," replied Silas Croft calmly, "is it so? Then she shows very goodtaste, for John Niel is an honest man, Frank Muller, and you are not.Listen to me," he went on, with a sudden outburst of passion; "I tellyou that you are a dishonourable man and a villain. I tell you that youmurdered the Hottentot Jantje's father, mother, and uncle in cold bloodwhen you were yet a lad. I tell you that the other day you tried tomurder John Niel, pretending to mistake him for a buck! And now you, whopetitioned for this country to be taken over by the Queen, and have goneround singing out your loyalty at the top of your voice, come and tellme that you are plotting to bring about an insurrection, and toplunge the land into war, and ask me for Bessie as the price of yourprotection! But I will tell you something in answer, Frank Muller," andthe old man rose up, his keen eyes flashing in wrath, and, straighteninghis bent frame, he pointed towards the door. "Go out of that door andnever come through it again. I rely upon God and the English nationto protect me, and not on such as you, and I would rather see my dearBessie dead in her coffin than married to a knave and traitor and amurderer like Frank Muller. Go!"
The Boer turned white with fury as he listened. Twice he tried to speakand failed, and when the words did come they were so choked and ladenwith passion as to be scarcely audible. When thwarted he was liableto these accesses to rage, and, speaking figuratively, they spoilt hischaracter. Could he have kept his head, he would have been a perfect andtriumphant villain, but as it was, the carefully planned and audaciousrascality of years was always apt to be swept away by the sudden galeof his furious passion. It was in such an outburst of rage that he hadassaulted John in the inn yard at Wakkerstroom, and thereby put him onhis guard against him, and now it mastered him once more.
"Very well, Silas Croft," he said at last, "I will go; but mark this, Iwill come back, and when I come it shall be with men armed with rifles.I will burn this pretty place of yours, that you are so proud of, overyour head, and I will kill you and your friend the Englishman, andtake Bessie away, and very soon she shall be glad enough to marry FrankMuller; but then I will not marry her--no, not if she goes on her kneesto me--and she shall go on her knees often enough. We will see then whatGod and the English nation will do to protect you. God and the Englishnation! Call on the sheep and the horses; call on the rocks and thetrees, and you will get a better answer."
"Go!" thundered the old man, "or by the God you blaspheme I will put abullet through you," and he reached towards a rifle that hung over themantelpiece, "or my Kafirs shall whip you off the place."
Frank Muller waited no more. He turned and went. It was dark now, butthere was still some light in the sky at the end of the blue-gumavenue, and against it, as he rode away, he discovered Bessie's tall andgraceful form softly outlined upon the darkening night. John had lefther to see about some pressing matter connected with the farm, and thereshe stood, filled with the great joy of a woman who has found her love,and loth as yet to break its spell by entering again into the dailyround of common life.
There she stood, a type and symbol of all that is beautiful and graciousin this rough world, the lovelights shining in her blue eyes andthoughts of happy gratitude to the Giver of all good rising from herheart to Heaven, drawn up thither, as it were, by the warmth of her purepassion, as the dew mists of the morning are drawn upward by the sun.There she was, so good, so happy, and so sweet; an answer to the world'sevil, a symbol of the world's joy, and an incarnation of the world'sbeauty! Who but a merciful and almighty Father can create children suchas she, so lovely, so lovable, and set them on the world as He sets thestars upon the sky to light it and make beholders think of holy things,and who but man could have the heart to turn such as she to the baseuses whereto they are daily turned?
Presently she heard the horse's hoofs, and looked up, so that thefaint light fell full upon her face, idealising it, and making itspassion-breathing beauty seem more of Heaven than of earth. There wassome look upon it, some indefinable light that day--such is the powerthat Love has to infuse all human things with the tint of his ownsplendour--that it went even to the heart of the wild and evil man whoadored her with the deep and savage force of his dark nature. Was itwell to meddle with her, and to build up plans for her overthrow andthat of all to whom she clung? Would it not be better to let her be,to go his way and leave her to go hers in peace? She did not lookquite like a woman standing there, but more like something belongingto another world, some subject of a higher rule. Men of powerful butundisciplined intellect like Frank Muller are never entirely freefrom superstition, however free they may be from religion, and he grewsuperstitious as he was apt to do. Might there not be an unknown penaltyfor treading such a flower as that into the mire--into mire mixedperchance with the blood of those she loved?
For a few seconds he hesitated. Should he throw up the whole affair,leave the rebellion to look after itself, marry one of Hans Coetzee'sdaughters, and trek to the old colony, or Bechuanaland, or anywhere? Hishand began to tighten on his bridle-rein and the horse to answer to thepressure. As a first step towards it he would turn away to the left andavoid her, when suddenly the thought of his successful rival flashedinto his mind. What, leave her with that man? Never! He had rather killher with his own hand. In another second he had sprung from his horse,and, before she guessed who it was, he was standing face to face withher. The strength of his jealous desire overpowered him.
"Ah, I thought he had come after missie," said Jantje, who, pursuing hisformer tactics, was once more indulging his passion for slinking aboutbehind trees and in tufts of grass. "Now what will missie say?"
"How are you, Bessie?" said Muller in a quiet voice, but she, lookinginto his face, saw that it belied the voice. It was alive with evilpassions that seemed to make it positively lurid, an
effect that itsundoubted beauty only intensified.
"I am quite well, thank you, Mr. Muller," she answered as she began tomove homewards, commanding her voice as well as she could, but feelingdreadfully frightened and lonely. She knew something of her admirer'scharacter, and feared to be left alone with him so far from any help,for nobody was about now, and they were more than three hundred yardsfrom the house.
He stood before her so that she could not pass without actually pushingby him. "Why are you in such a hurry?" he said. "You were standing stillenough just now."
"It is time for me to be going in. I want to see about the supper."
"The supper can wait awhile, Bessie, and I cannot wait. I am startingfor Paarde Kraal to-morrow at day-break, and I want to say good-bye toyou first."
"Good-bye," she said, more frightened than ever at his curiousconstrained manner, and she held out her hand.
He took it and retained it.
"Please let me go," she said.
"Not till you have heard what I have to say. Look here, Bessie, I loveyou with all my heart. I know you think I am only a Boer, but I am morethan that. I have been to the Cape and seen the world. I have brains,and can see and understand things, and if you will marry me I will liftyou up. You shall be one of the first ladies in Africa, though I am onlyplain Frank Muller now. Great things are going to happen in the country,and I shall be at the head of them, or near it. No, don't try to getaway. I tell you I love you, you don't know how. I am dying for you. Oh!can't you believe me? my darling! my darling! Yes, I _will_ kiss you,"and in an agony of passion, that her resistance only fired the more, heflung his strong arms round her and drew her to his breast, fight as shewould.
But at this opportune moment an unexpected diversion occurred, of whichthe hidden Jantje was the cause. Seeing that matters were becomingserious, and being afraid to show himself lest Frank Muller should killhim then and there, as indeed he would have been quite capable of doing,he hit upon another expedient, to the service of which he brought aventriloquistic power that is not uncommon among natives. Suddenly thesilence was broken by a frightful and prolonged wail that seemed toshape itself into the word "Frank," and to proceed from the air justabove the struggling Bessie's head. The effect produced upon Muller wassomething wonderful.
"_Allemachter!_" he cried, looking up, "it is my mother's voice!"
"_Frank!_" wailed the voice again, and he let go of Bessie in hisperplexity and fear, and turned round to try and discover whence thesound proceeded--a circumstance of which that young lady took advantageto beat a rapid if not very dignified retreat.
"_Frank! Frank! Frank!_" wailed and howled the voice, now overhead, nowon this side, now on that, till at last Muller, thoroughly mystifiedand feeling his superstitious fears rising apace as the moaning soundflitted about beneath the dark arch of the gum-trees, made a rush forhis horse, which was snorting and trembling in every limb. It is almostas easy to work upon the superstitious fears of a dog or a horse as uponthose of a man, but Muller, not being aware of this, took the animal'salarm as a clear indication of the uncanny nature of the voice. Witha single bound he sprang into his saddle, and as he did so the woman'svoice wailed out once more--
"_Frank_, thou shalt die in blood as I did, Frank!"
Muller turned livid with fear, and the cold perspiration streamed fromhis face. He was a bold man enough physically, but this was too much forhis nerves.
"It is my mother's voice, they are her very words!" he called out aloud,then, dashing his spurs into his horse's flanks, he went like a flashfar from the accursed spot; nor did he draw rein till he came to his ownplace ten miles away. Twice the horse fell in the darkness, for therewas no moon, the second time throwing him heavily, but he only draggedit up with an oath, and springing into the saddle again fled on asbefore.
Thus the man who did not hesitate to plot and to execute the cruelslaughter of unoffending men cowered beneath the fancied echo of a deadwoman's voice! Truly human nature is full of contradictions.
When the thunder of the horse's hoofs grew faint Jantje emerged from oneof his hiding-places, and, throwing himself down in the centre of thedusty road, kicked and rolled with delight, shaking all the while withan inward joy to which his habits of caution would not permit him togive audible vent. "His mother's voice, his mother's words," he quotedto himself. "How should he know that Jantje remembers the old woman'svoice--ay, and the words that the devil in her spoke too? Hee! hee!hee!"
Finally he departed to eat his supper of beef, which he had cut offan unfortunate ox which that morning had expired of a mysteriouscomplication of diseases, filled with a happy sense that he had notlived that day in vain.
Bessie fled without stopping till she reached the orange-trees in frontof the verandah, where, reassured by the lights from the windows, shepaused to consider. Not that she was troubled by Jantje's mysterioushowling; indeed, she was too preoccupied to give it a second thought.What she debated was whether she should say anything about her encounterwith Frank Muller. Young ladies are not, as a rule, too fond ofinforming their husbands or lovers that somebody has kissed them; first,because they know it will force them to make a disturbance and possiblyto place themselves in a ridiculous position; and, secondly, becausethey fear lest suspicious man might take the story with a grain of salt,and suggest even that they, the kissed, were themselves to blame. Boththese reasons presented themselves to Bessie's practical mind, also afurther one, namely, that he had not kissed her after all. So on a rapidreview of the whole case she came to the decision to say nothing to Johnabout it, and only enough to her uncle to make him forbid Frank Mullerthe house--an unnecessary precaution, as the reader will remember. Then,after pausing for a few seconds to pick a branch of orange blossom andto recover herself generally, which, not being hysterically inclined,she very soon did, she entered the house quietly as though nothing hadhappened. The very first person she met was John himself, who had comein by the back way. He laughed at her orange-blossom bouquet, and saidthat it was most appropriate, then proceeded to embrace her tenderly inthe passage; and indeed he would have been a poor sort of lover if hehad not. It was exactly at this juncture that old Silas Croft happenedto open the sitting-room door and became the spectator of thissurprising and attractive tableau.
"Well, I never!" said the old gentleman. "What is the meaning of allthis, Bessie?"
Of course there was nothing for it but to advance and explain the factsof the case, which John did with much humming and ha-ing and a generalawkwardness of manner that baffles description, while Bessie stood by,her hand upon her lover's shoulder, blushing as red as any rose.
Mr. Croft listened in silence till John had finished, a smile upon hisface and a kindly twinkle in his keen eyes.
"So," he said, "that is what you young people have been after, is it? Isuppose that you want to enlarge your interests in the farm, eh, John?Well, upon my word, I don't blame you; you might have gone farther andfared worse. These sort of things never come singly, it seems. I hadanother request for your hand, my dear, only this afternoon, from thatscoundrel Frank Muller, of all men in the world," and his face darkenedas he said the name. "I sent him off with a flea in his ear, I can tellyou. Had I known then what I know now, I should have referred him toJohn. There, there! He is a bad man, and a dangerous man, but let himbe. He is taking plenty of rope, and he will hang himself one of thesedays. Well, my dears, this is the best bit of news that I have heard formany a long year. It's time you got married, both of you, for it isnot right for man to live alone, or woman either. I have done it allmy life, and that is the conclusion I have come to after thinking thematter over for somewhere about fifty years. Yes, you have my consentand my blessing too, and you will have something more one day before sovery long. Take her, John, take her. I have led a rough life, but I haveseen somewhat of women for all that, and I tell you that there is nota sweeter or a prettier girl in South Africa than Bessie Croft, and inwanting to marry her you have shown your sense. God bless you both, mydears; and n
ow, Bessie, come and give your old uncle a kiss. I hope thatyou won't let John quite drive me out of your head, that's all, for yousee, my dear, having no children of my own, I have managed to grow veryfond of you in the last twelve years or so."
Bessie kissed the old man tenderly.
"No, uncle," she answered, "neither John nor anybody nor anything in theworld can do that," and it was evident from her manner that she meantwhat she said. Bessie had a large heart, and was not at all the personto let her lover drive her uncle and benefactor out of his sharethereof.
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