John Ames, Native Commissioner: A Romance of the Matabele Rising
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CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
THE KING AND THE AGE.
"Do try and be serious a little while if you can, Nidia, if only that Ihave something very serious to say to you."
"Drive ahead, then, Govvie. I promise not even to laugh."
Susie Bateman looked at the girl as she sat there, with hands claspedtogether and downcast eyes, striving to look the very picture ofbe-lectured demureness, and tried to feel angry with her. Yet, somehow,she could not--no, not even when she thought to detect a suspiciousheave of the shoulders which denoted a powerful fund of compressedlaughter. With the absent object of her intended "straight talk" shefelt venomously savage. With this one--no, she could not.
"Well, what I want to say is this," she went on. "Nidia, is it fair toencourage that man as you do?"
"Which man? There are so many men. Do I encourage them?"
"Oh, child, don't be so wildly exasperating. You know perfectly wellwho I mean."
Then Nidia lifted her eyes with a gleam of delightful mischief in them.
"I have a notion you are ungrammatical, Govvie. I am almost sure youought to have said `_whom_ I mean.' Well, we won't be particular aboutthat. But, as my American adorer, `Major' Shackleton, would say, `Oh,do drive on,' By the way, is he the man I am encouraging?"
What was to be done with such a girl as this? But Susie Bateman was notto be put off.
"You know perfectly well that I mean John Ames."
"Oh! Now you're talking, as my `Major' aforesaid would rejoin. And soI encourage John Ames, do I? Poor fellow! he seems to need it."
There was an unconscious softness wherewith these words were uttered.It drove the other frantic, "Need it indeed! On the contrary, what heneeds is discouragement, and plenty of it. Well, he gets it from me, atany rate."
"Oh yes, he does," came the softly spoken interpolation.
"Well, but, Nidia, how much further is this thing to go? Why, the mancomes here and talks to you as if you belonged to him; has a sort oftaken-possession-of-you way about him that it's high time to put an endto."
"And if he had not `taken possession' of me in that ghastly place on theUmgwane, and kept it ever since, where would I be now?" came the placidrejoinder.
"Yes, I know. That is where the mischief came in. It was partly myfault for ever encouraging the man's acquaintance. I might have knownhe would be dangerous. There is that about him so different to thegeneral run of them that would make him that way to one like yourself,Nidia. Yes; I blame myself."
"Yes; he is different to the general ruck, isn't he?" rejoined Nidia,with a softness in her wide-opened eyes that rather intensified thandiminished the bitterness of her friend and mentor.
"Well, at any rate he is nobody in particular," flashed out the latter,"and probably hasn't got a shilling to his name; and now I hear he hasresigned his appointment"--again that provoking smile, "Once for all,Nidia; do you intend to marry him?"
"Marry who? John Ames?"
"Yes," with a snap.
"He hasn't asked me."
The innocent artlessness of the tone, the look of absolute and childlikesimplicity in the blue eyes as the answer came tranquilly forth, wouldhave sent a bystander into convulsions. It sent Mrs Bateman out of theroom in a whirlwind of wrath. After her went the offender.
"Don't get mad, Susie. I can't help being a tease, can I? I was builtthat way. Come along out, and we'll drop in on some other frightenedand beleaguered female, and swap camp and laager gossip."
But the other refused. She was seriously put out, she said, and neverfelt less like going anywhere. So Nidia, who understood her--at times,somewhat crusty--friend thoroughly, and managed her accordingly, put onher hat and went alone.
To do her justice, Mrs Bateman, from her point of view, was not withoutcause for concern. Nidia's father--she had lost her mother--was thesenior partner of an exceedingly wealthy firm of shipowners, and hadcertainly a more brilliant future planned for his only and idoliseddaughter than an alliance with a penniless nobody; for so, with acertain spiteful emphasis, Mrs Bateman delighted to designate theobject of her abhorrence. The girl had been allowed to accompany heronly after long and much-expressed opposition on the paternal side, andnow she felt simply weighted down with responsibility. And this was theway in which she had fulfilled her trust!
But fortune seemed inclined to favour her to-day. Scarcely had Nidiabeen gone ten minutes, than there came a knock at the door of theirdiminutive abode. John Ames himself! Susie Bateman snorted like themetaphoric warhorse, for she scented battle. She was about to indulgethis obnoxious person with a very considerable fragment of her mind.Nevertheless she welcomed him pleasantly--almost too pleasantly, thusoverdoing the part. But she had no intention of sending him off at atangent, as she knew full well would be the result of letting him knowthat Nidia was not in.
Observing him keenly, she noted the quick shade of disappointment as hebecame alive to the fact that the room was empty save for herself. Sheknew exactly what was passing in his mind, and found a cruel enjoymentin observing every sign of expectation evoked by this or that soundoutside, for she had not told him that Nidia was out, and knew that hewas still hoping she might only be in another room. At length heenquired.
"Miss Commerell has gone out," she replied. "She went round to see somepeople; I didn't even hear who they were. She won't be back tilllunch-time, if then; and perhaps it is just as well, Mr Ames, for Ihave been wanting to have a little quiet conversation with you. Now wecan have it."
"Yes?" he said enquiringly. But tranquil as the tone was, she had notfailed to note the scarcely perceptible start of conscious dismay evokedby the announcement. Yet now it had come to the point, she for her parthardly knew how to begin, and he was not going to help her. Besides,his tranquil self-possession was somewhat disconcerting. However, shestarted in at it, characteristically, headlong.
"Now, you must not be angry with me, Mr Ames; but I want to talk to youas a woman of the world to a man of the world. In short, about MissCommerell."
"Such a subject cannot but be interesting, Mrs Bateman."
"She is under my charge, you know."
"Yes. You are to be congratulated on the delightful nature of such acharge."
"But you admit that it is one which entails a grave responsibility?"
"The gravest responsibility," he replied.
"Well, then, the gravity of that responsibility must be my excuse forwhat I am about to say. Don't you think you come here rather often?"
She was exasperated by his imperturbability. She could see he meantfencing, wherefore she clubbed him without further preliminary.
"Do I?" he answered, in the same even tone.
She could hardly restrain her wrath, and her voice took a higher pitch.
"Do you?" she echoed somewhat stupidly, because fast losing her temper."Well, when I tell you people are beginning to talk about it?"
"Yes; they would be sure to do that. You see, they have so little totalk about, all crowded up together here."
She was taken wildly aback. The unparalleled impudence of the man,taking everything for granted in this way!
"Well, I can't have Miss Commerell talked about, and I won't. Andthat's all about it."
"Oh, it's about Miss Commerell they are talking? I understood you tomean it was about my coming here."
Then Mrs Bateman lost her temper, and, as women of her stamp usually dounder such circumstances, she became rude.
"Bless the man, is he quite a fool?" she broke forth, fairly quiveringwith rage. "Don't you, or won't you, understand that you are the causeof getting Nidia talked about? You! And I won't have it. Indeed,under the circumstances, your acquaintance with Miss Commerell hadbetter cease. She is in my charge, remember."
"Yes. But she is not a child. I should first like to hear MissCommerell's own views in the matter; indeed, shall do so before decidingon whether to fall in with yours or not, and so I tell you frankly, MrsBateman. O
f course this is your house, and I need hardly say I shallvisit it no more."
"One moment. I have not quite done," she went on, for he had risen togo. "Again you must forgive me for plain-speaking; but let me adviseyou, as a friend, to entertain no hopes that can only end indisappointment. You are probably aware that Miss Commerell's father isa very wealthy man, and therefore you will not be surprised to learnthat he has mapped out a brilliant future for his only daughter."
The speaker was alive to the slight stirring of dismay that passed likea ripple over the countenance of her hearer. She knew him well enoughto be sure that the bolt had gone home, and at heart secretly respectedhim. In making this statement she had thrown her king of trumps.
"It is very painful for me to be obliged to speak like this, Mr Ames,"she went on, deftly infusing a little less acerbity into her tone,"especially when _I_ think of all you have done for Miss Commerellthroughout a time of terrible danger. But as to this, you willcertainly not find her people ungrateful; you may take my assurance asto that. Let me see. You have resigned your appointment, have you not?At least, so I have been told."
She paused. She had thrown her ace.
John Ames, his face white to the lips with this culminating outrage,replied--
"Pardon me if I decline to discuss my own private affairs with anybody,Mrs Bateman. For the rest, there is a pitch of perfection ineverything, even in the art of plain-speaking, and perfection in thatart I must congratulate you on having attained. Good morning!"
He bowed and left the house, with, at any rate, all the honours of waron his side; and this she could not but recognise, feeling rather smalland uncomfortable as she looked after his retreating figure. But shehad thrown her ace of trumps, anyway.
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"How will you face the parting of the ways?"
The Umlimo's question came back to his mind as he walked away from thehouse in a very fury of turmoil. The Umlimo's predictions seemed tofulfil themselves to the letter in every particular. In his then frameof mind John Ames found his thoughts reverting to that strangepersonality with a kind of fascination, of deepened sympathy. Hehimself began to feel the same hatred of his kind, the same intuitionthat even as the hand of everybody was against him, so should his handbe against everybody. It was significant that Nidia should have beenout of the way. Could it be that she had deputed this cursed,parrot-faced, interfering woman to take up her part and so clear theground for her? His part was played. He had been Nidia's Providenceduring that perilous flight, but now his part was played. She had nolonger any use for him. The "brilliant future mapped out for her"--thewords seemed burnt into his brain--what part or lot had he in such, he amere penniless nobody? And then all the outrageous insult conveyed bythe woman's words--a sort of patronising assurance that he would becompensated, yes, compensated--paid--why did she not call it? Faugh!It was sickening. Well, again, as the Umlimo had pronounced, it was theway of life. Black and bitter were his thoughts. All was dark--blanklydark. He knew not which way to turn. And at this juncture "The Major,"otherwise Shackleton, his ankle now restored sufficiently to enable itsowner to hobble about, barred his material way with a pressinginvitation to come round and lunch. Lunch, indeed! Mentally heconsigned that estimable American to the devil, and, leaving himastonished, went on to his own quarters, like a wounded animal, to hidehis pain and heartbreak alone. Besides, he was sick of the story of hisown "heroism." Damn such "heroism"! He thought of the luckless trooperwho had been with them in their peril, probably conjured up by the sightof Shackleton, and envied him. Why had he not been the one to end hishopes and fears then in that swift and easy manner? That poor devilprobably had plenty of life's sweets in front of him. He had none.That was all over and done with.
He gained his quarters. The post had come in, and on his table lay apile of official-looking letters, most of them addressed to him by hislate official style. He glanced through them listlessly, one afteranother, and then--What was it that caused his hand to shake and thecolour to leave his face, and started him bolt upright? He stared atthe sheet again and again. Yes, there it was. He was not dreaming.The sheet of paper was material, substantial; the words on it, writtenin a somewhat flourishing, clerkly hand, were plain enough, and theywere to the effect that there had been placed to his credit, and lay athis disposal, in the Standard Bank in Cape Town, the sum of twenty-fivethousand pounds.
Twenty-five thousand pounds! At his disposal! Heavens, what did itmean? Some hoax? Some practical joke? Of course. But with the bankcommunication was an enclosure. This he opened with trembling fingers,and thus it ran--
"In carrying out my instructions, John Ames, as you have done to thevery letter, you have rendered me a service beyond any money value. Gonow and be happy with her whom you love, and this end the accompanyingcommunication will materially further. Do not spoil your happiness byany cursed foolish pride, or insane ideas of being under an obligation,for this sum is less to me than a five-pound note would be to youprobably at this moment"--again that well-nigh superhuman gift offorecast--"and take no more risks, but go in peace while you, or ratherwhile _ye_, may--_the road is still open_--and by your lifelonghappiness continue to justify the forecasts of:--
"Umlimo."
This, then, was what meant the opening of the packet marked "B."