CHAPTER XXX
"WE MUST PART, JOHN"
Jess and her companion stood in awed silence and gazed at the blackeningand distorted corpses of the thunder-blasted Boers. Then they passed bythem to the tree which grew some ten paces or more on the other side ofthe place of death. There was some difficulty in leading the horses bythe bodies, but at last they came with a wheel and a snort of suspicion,and were tied up to the tree by John. Meanwhile Jess took some of thehard-boiled eggs out of the basket and vanished, remarking that sheshould take her clothes off and dry them in the sun while she at herbreakfast, and that she advised him to do likewise. Accordingly, so soonas she was well out of sight behind the shelter of the rocks she setto work to free herself from her sodden garments, a task of no littledifficulty. Then she wrung them out and spread them one by one on theflat water-washed stones around, which were by now thoroughly warmedwith the sun. Next she climbed to a pool under the shadow of the steepbank, in the rock-bed of the river, where she bathed her bruises andwashed the sand and mud from her hair and feet. Her bath finished, shereturned and sat herself on a slab of flat stone out of the glare of thesun, and ate her breakfast of hard-boiled eggs, reflecting meanwhileon the position in which she found herself. Her heart was very sore andheavy, and almost could she wish that she were lying deep beneath thoserushing waters. She had counted upon death, and now she was not dead;indeed, she with her shame and trouble might yet live for many a year.She was as one who in her sleep had seemed to soar on angels' wings farinto the airy depths, and then awakened with a start to find thatshe had tumbled from her bed. All the heroic scale, all the more thanearthly depth of passion, all the spiritualised desires that sprang intobeing beneath the shadow of the approaching end, had come down to thecommon level of an undesirable attachment, along which she must dragher weary feet for many a year. Nor was this all. She had been false toBessie; more, she had broken Bessie's lover's troth. She had temptedhim and he had fallen, and now he was as bad as she. Death would havejustified all this; never would she have done it had she thought thatshe was doomed to live; but now Death had cheated her, as is his fashionwith people to whom his presence is more or less desirable, leaving herto cope with the spirit she had invoked when his sword was quiveringover her.
What would be the end of it in the event of their escape? What could bethe end except misery? It should go no farther, far as it had gone--thatshe swore; no, not if it broke her heart and his too. The conditionswere altered again, and the memory of those dreadful and wondrous hourswhen they two swung upon the raging river and exchanged their undyingtroth, with the grave for an altar, must remain a memory and nothingmore. It had risen in their lives like some beautiful yet terribledream-image of celestial joy, and now like a dream it must vanish. Andyet it was no dream, except in so far as all her life was a dream anda vision, a riddle of which glimpses of the answer came as rarely asgleams of sunshine on a rainy day. Alas! it was no dream; it was aportion of the living, breathing past, that, having once been, isimmortal in its every part and moment, incarnating as it does the veryspirit of immortality, an utter incapacity to change. As the act was,as the word had been spoken, so would act and word be for ever and forever. And now this undying thing must be caged and cast about withthe semblance of death and clouded over with the shadow of an unrealforgetfulness. Oh, it was bitter, very bitter! What would it be now togo away, quite away from him, and know him married to her own sister,the other woman with a prior right? What would it be to think ofBessie's sweetness slowly creeping into her empty place and filling it,of Bessie's gentle constant love covering up the recollection of theirwilder passion; pervading it and covering it up as the twilight slowlypervades and covers up the day, till at last perhaps it was blotted outand forgotten in the night of forgetfulness?
And yet it must be so: she was determined that it should be so. Ah, thatshe had died then with his kiss upon her lips! Why had he not let herdie? And grieving thus the poor girl shook her damp hair over her faceand sobbed in the bitterness of her heart, as Eve might have sobbed whenAdam reproached her.
But, naked or dressed, sobbing will not mend matters in this sad worldof ours, a fact which Jess had the sense to recognise; so presently shewiped her eyes with her hair, having nothing else at hand to wipe themwith, and set to work to struggle into her partially dried garmentsagain, a process calculated to irritate the most fortunate andhappy-minded woman in the whole wide world. Certainly in her presentframe of mind those damp, bullet-torn clothes drove Jess frantic,so much so that had she been a man she would probably have sworn--aconsolation that her sex denied her. Fortunately she carried atravelling comb in her pocket, with which she made shift to do hercurling hair, if hair can be said to be done when one has not a hairpinor even a bit of string wherewith to fasten it.
Then, after a last and frightful encounter with her sodden boots, thatseemed to take almost as much out of her as her roll at the bottom ofthe Vaal, Jess rose and walked back to the spot where she had left Johnan hour before. When she reached him he was employed in saddling upthe two greys with the saddles and bridles that he had removed from thecarcases of the horses which the lightning had destroyed.
"Why, Jess, you look quite smart. Have you dried your clothes?" he said."I have after a fashion."
"Yes," she answered.
He looked at her. "Dearest, you have been crying. Come, things are blackenough, but it is useless to cry. At any rate, we have escaped with ourlives so far."
"John," said Jess sharply, "there must be no more of that. Thingshave changed. We were dead last night. Now we have come to life again.Besides," she added, with a ghost of a laugh, "perhaps you will seeBessie to-morrow. I should think that we ought to have come to the endof our misfortunes."
John's face fell as a sense of the impossible and most tragic positionin which they were placed, physically and morally, swept into his mind.
"Jess, my own Jess," he said, "what _can_ we do?"
She stamped her foot in the bitter anguish of her heart. "I told you,"she said, "that there must be no more of that. What are you thinkingabout? From to-day we are dead to each other. I have done with youand you with me. It is your own fault; you should have let me die. Oh,John," she wailed out, "why did you not let me die? Why did we not bothdie? We should have been happy now, or--asleep. We must part, John, wemust part; and what shall I do without you, how _shall_ I live withoutyou?"
Her distress was very poignant, and it affected him so much that for amoment he could not trust himself to answer her.
"Would it not be best to make a clean breast of it to Bessie?" he saidat last. "I should feel a villain for the rest of my life, but upon myword I have a mind to do it."
"No, no," she cried passionately, "I will not allow it! You shall swearto me that you will never breathe a word to Bessie. I will not have herhappiness destroyed. We have sinned, we must suffer; not Bessie, who isinnocent, and only takes her right. I promised my dear mother to lookafter Bessie and protect her, and I will not be the one to betrayher--never, never! You must marry her and I must go away. There is noother way out of it."
John looked at her, not knowing what to say or do. A sharp pang ofdespair went through him as he watched the passionate pale face and thegreat eyes dim with tears. How was he to part from her? He put out hisarms to take her in them, but she pushed him away almost fiercely.
"Have you no honour?" she cried. "Is it not all hard enough to bearwithout your tempting me? I tell you it is done with. Finish saddlingthat horse and let us start. The sooner we get off the sooner it willbe over, unless the Boers catch us again and shoot us, which for my ownpart I devoutly hope they may. You must make up your mind to rememberthat I am nothing but your sister-in-law. If you will not rememberit, then I shall ride away and leave you to go your road and I will gomine."
John said no more. Her determination was as crushing as the cruelnecessity that dictated it. What was more, his own reason and sense ofhonour approved it, whatever his passion might prompt to the contrary
.As he turned wearily to finish saddling the horses, with Jess he almostregretted that they had not both been drowned.
Of course the only saddles that they had were those belonging to thedead Boers, which was very awkward for a lady. Luckily for herself,however, from constant practice, Jess could ride almost as well asthough she had been trained to the ring, and was even capable ofbalancing herself without a pommel on a man's saddle, having often andoften ridden round the farm in that fashion. So soon as the horses wereready she astonished John by clambering into the saddle of the older andsteadier animal, placing her foot in the stirrup-strap and announcingthat she was ready to start.
"You had better ride some other way," said John. "It isn't usual, Iknow, but you will tumble off so."
"You shall see," she said with a cold little laugh, putting the horseinto a canter as she spoke. John followed her on the other horse,and noticed with amazement that she sat as straight and steady on herslippery seat as though she were on a hunting saddle, keeping herselffrom falling by an instinctive balancing of the body which was verycurious to notice. When they were well on to the plain they halted toconsider their route, and, turning, Jess pointed to the long lines ofvultures descending to feast on their would-be murderers. If they wentdown the river it would lead them to Standerton, and there they would besafe if they could slip into the town, which was garrisoned by English.But then, as they had gathered from the conversation of their escort,Standerton was closely invested by the Boers, and to try and passthrough their lines was more than they dared to do. It was true thatthey still had the pass signed by the Boer general, but after what hadoccurred not unnaturally they were somewhat sceptical about the value ofa pass, and certainly most unwilling to put its efficacy to the proof.So after due consideration they determined to avoid Standerton and ridein the opposite direction till they found a practicable ford of theVaal. Fortunately, they both of them had a very good idea of the layof the land; and, in addition to this, John possessed a small compass,fastened to his watch-chain, which would enable him to steer a fairlycorrect course across a veldt--a fact that rendered them independent ofthe waggon tracks. On the roads they were exposed to the risk, if notthe certainty, of detection. But on the wide veldt the chances werethey would meet no living creature except the wild game. Should they seehouses they could avoid them, and probably their male inhabitants wouldbe far away from home on business connected with the war.
Accordingly they rode ten miles or more along the bank without seeing asoul, till they reached a space of bubbling, shallow water that lookedfordable. Indeed, an investigation of the banks revealed the fact that aloaded waggon had passed the river here and at no distant date, perhapsa week before.
"This is good enough," said John; "we will try it." And without furtherado they plunged into the rapid.
In the centre of the stream the water was strong and deep, and for a fewyards swept the horses off their legs, but they struck out boldlytill they found their footing again; and after that there was no moretrouble. On the farther side of the river John took counsel with hiscompass, and they steered a course straight for Mooifontein. At middaythey off-saddled the horses for an hour by some water, and ate a smallportion of their remaining food. Then they up-saddled and went on acrossthe lonely, desolate veldt. No human being did they see all that longday. The wide country was tenanted only by great herds of game that wentthundering past like squadrons of cavalry, or here and there by coteriesof vultures, hissing and fighting furiously over some dead buck. And soat last the twilight gathered and found them alone in the wilderness.
"Well, what is to be done now?" said John, pulling up his tired horse."It will be dark in half an hour."
Jess slid from her saddle as she answered, "Get off and go to sleep, Isuppose."
She was quite right; there was absolutely nothing else that they coulddo; so John set to work and hobbled the horses, tying them togetherfor further security, for it would be a dreadful thing if they were tostray. By the time that this was done the twilight was deepening intonight, and the two sat down to contemplate their surroundings withfeelings akin to despair. So far as the eye could reach there wasnothing to be seen but a vast stretch of lonely plain, across which thenight wind blew in dreary gusts, causing the green grass to ripple likethe sea. There was absolutely no shelter to be had, nor any object tobreak the monotony of the veldt, except two ant-heaps set about fivepaces apart. John sat down on one of the ant-heaps, and Jess took upher position on the other, and there they remained, like pelicans in thewilderness, watching the daylight fade out of the day.
"Don't you think that we had better sit together?" suggested Johnfeebly. "It would be warmer, you see."
"No, I don't," answered Jess snappishly. "I am very comfortable as Iam."
Unfortunately, however, this was not the exact truth, for already poorJess's teeth were chattering with cold. Soon, indeed, weary as theywere, they found that the only way to keep their blood moving wasto tramp continually up and down. After an hour and a half of thisexercise, the breeze dropped and the temperature became more suitable totheir lightly clad, half-starved, and almost exhausted bodies. Then themoon came up, and the hyenas, or wolves, or some such animals, came upalso and howled round them--though they could not see them. These hyenasproved more than Jess's nerves would bear, and at last she condescendedto ask John to share her ant-heap: where they sat, shivering in eachother's arms, throughout the livelong night. Indeed, had it not been forthe warmth they gathered from each other, it is probable that they mighthave fared even worse than they did; for, though the days were hot, thenights were now beginning to be cold on the high veldt, especially when,as at present, the air had recently been chilled by the passage of aheavy tempest. Another drawback to their romantic situation was thatthey were positively soaked with the falling dew. There they sat, orrather cowered, for hour after hour without sleeping, for sleep wasimpossible, and almost without speaking; and yet, notwithstanding thewretchedness of their circumstances, not altogether unhappy, since theywere united in their misery. At last the eastern sky began to turn grey,and John rose, shook the dew from his hat and clothes, and limped offas well as his half-frozen limbs would allow to catch the horses, whichwere standing together some yards away, looking huge and ghost-like inthe mist. By sunrise he had managed to saddle them up, and they startedonce more. This time, however, he was obliged to lift Jess on to thesaddle.
About eight o'clock they halted and ate their little remaining food, andthen went on, slowly enough, for the horses were almost as tired asthey were, and it was necessary to husband them if they were to reachMooifontein by dark. At midday they rested for an hour and a half, andthen, feeling almost worn out, continued their journey, reckoning thatthey could not be more than sixteen or seventeen miles from Mooifontein.It was about two hours after this that the catastrophe happened. Thecourse they were following ran down the side of one land wave, thenacross a little swampy _sluit_, and up the opposite slope. They crossedthe marshy ground, walked their horses up to the crest of the oppositerise, and found themselves face to face with a party of armed andmounted Boers.
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