MARIE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVIII, Issue 14808, 11 October 1911, Page 11

MARIE.

BY H. RIDER HAGGARD.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT,

AN EPISODE IN THE LIFE OF THE LATE ALLAN QUARTERMAIN.

COPYRIGHT.

SYNOPSIS. The story opens in the Cradock district of Capo Colony, then a very wild place, lhe narrator. Allan Quartermain. was the son of a Church of England clergyman, and amongst the neighbours was a Boer farmer Henri Marais. who had a farm named Maraisfontein, and who kept up a good many French customs. It was arranged that Allan should go to Maraisfontein to study Isench with little Marie Marais. under her tutor, Leblano. On the first day Leblano alluded to the English as pigs, which angered little ..Allan, and a scene took place. Henri Manias appeared and accused Leblanc of being a drunken sot. and apologised to the lad. Allan afterwards found Marie in tears because of the insult offered to him. and after the manner of children they chummed up, and Marie stated that her father hated the English and she feared trouble would come of it. The Kaffir war took place in the district of Albany and Somerset, and the people of Cradock suffered little, and with natural optimism and carelessness they began to think themselves safe from attack. On a. certain Sunday Leblanc had eon© out to the hills, where he believed lie had located a copper vein. and. leaving his horse loose, had a bottle of peach brandy and fell asleep. His horse wandered away, and later,' when he was searching for it. he found it in possession of two Kaffirs, who were really; looking for. the owner of the straying animal. Without asking questions' Leblanc shot one of the Kaffirs, and this ' happened to be the eldest,son and heir of a chief- Leblanc decided to say nothing about the matter to Henri Marais.; Allan Quartermain. at his. own hou'se, is warned by an old Hottentot that the Red Kaffirs were going to wipe out the Marais homestead because Leblanc had shot Qnabie's son. With little more' than half-an-hour before dawn, Allan set off for the 15-mile ride to Maraisfontein with Hans, the HottSntot, and arrived just in time to get into the house before the Kaffirs closed round. Henri Marais wag away, and there were only four nuns in the house. Preparations were ranidly made to resist the attack. Allan told Marie of his love for her, and she kissed him for answer, as the first assegai flashed through a window above their heads. The natives were seen driving all the stock off the farm, and then a desperate attack was made on the house. A messenger, under a flag of truce, offerred to «nare the re3t if Lebanc was given up. This was refused, and Leblano shot the bearer of the truce. Then a fierce attack was made, and after much fighting the front door was burst in.

CHAPTER lll.—(Continued). Lebanc, and a slave who was near him, were seized by black, claw-like hands and dragged out. What became of the Frenchman I do not know, for the natives hauled him away, but I fear his end must have been dreadful, as he was taken alive. The servant I saw them assegai, "so at least he died at once. I fired my,last shot, killing a fellow who was flourishing a battle-axe, then dashed the butt of the gun into the face of the man behind him, felling him, and, seizing Marie by the hand, dragged her back into the northernmost room—that; in which I was accustomed to sleep—and shut and barred the door. • .

"Allan," she gasped, '*Allan, dear, it is finished. I cannot fall. into the hands of those men. Kill me, Allan" "All right," I answered, "I will. 1 have roy pistol. One barrel for you and one for me." * "

" No, no! Perhaps you might escapa after all; but, you see, am a woman, and dare not risk it. Come, now, I am ready," and she : knelt > down, opening her arms to receive the 5 embrace of death, and looked; up at me with her lovely, pitiful eyes. v "It doesn't do to kill one's love . and live on oneself," • I answered hoarsely. We have got to go together," and I cocked both ban-els of the pistol. •-'■■-' 'The Hottentot, Hans, who was in the place with us, , saw and understood. . "It is right, it is best! " he said, and, turning, he hid his eyes with his hand. "Wait a little Allan," she exclaimed; "it will he time when the door is down, and perhaps God may -still help us." "He may,'-' I _ answered doubtfully; " but I would not count on it. Nothing can; save us now unless the others come to rescue us, and' that's too much to hope for.": '— -- ; : .v" ; - i . /:' : : -^y-'%\

Then a thought struck me, and I added, with a dreadful laugh: " I wonder where we shall be in five minutes ? .V,

"Oh, together, dear; together for always in some new and beautiful world, for you do love me, don't you, as I love you? " Maybe that's better than living on here where we should be sure to have troubles and perhaps be separated at last." VI nodded. my *.ead, foi though I loved life, 1 loved Marie more, and I felt that we ware making a good end after a brave fight. They ; were battering at the door now, but, thank Heaven, Mavais had made strong aoors, and it held a, while. The wood began to give at last; an assegai- appeared , through a shattered plank, but Hans stabbed along the line of it with the spear he held—that which I had snatched from the flank of a horse and it was dropped with a scream * Black hands were thrust through the hole, and the Hottentot hacked and cut at them with the spear. But others came, more than he could pierce, and the whole door frame began to be dragged outwards. "Now, Marie, be ready," I gasped, lifting the pistol. , - "Oh, Christ receive me!" she answered faintly. "It won't hurt much, will it, Allan?"

, "You will never feel anything," I whispered ; as with the cold sweat pouring from me I placed the muzzle within "an inch of her forehead and began to press the tricw. My God! yes, I actually began to pres* the trigger softly and eteadily, for I wished to make no mistake.

It was at this very moment, above the dreadful turmoil of the roaring .flames, the yells of the savages and the shrieks and "roans of wounded and dying men, that I heard the sweetest oound which ever fell upon my ears—the sound of shots being fired, many shots, and quite close by. "Great Heaven!" I screamed; "the Boors are here to save ns. Marie, I will hold the door while I can. If I fall, scramble through the window—you can do it' from the chest beneath—drop to the ground, and run towards the firing. There's a chance for you yet, a good chance." "And you, you," she moaned. "I would rather die with you." "Do what I bid you," I answered savagely, and bounded forward towards the rocking door. " , It was falling outward, it fell, antf on top of it appeared two great savages waving broad spears. I lifted the pistol, and the- bullet that had been meant for Marie's brain scattered that of the first of them, and the bullet which had been meant for my heart pierced that of the second. They both went down dead, there in the door-

way. - - I snatched up one of their spears and glanced behind me. Marie was climbing on to the chest; I could just eee her through the thickening smoke. Another Qijabie rushed on. Hans and I received him on the points of our assegais, but so fierce was his charge that they t went through him as though he were nothing, and being but light, both of us were thrown backwards to the ground. I scrambled to my feet again, defenceless now, for the epear was broken in the Kaffir, and awaited the end. Looking back one© more I saw that Marie had either failed to get through the window or abandoned the attempt. At anyrato she was standing near the chest supporting herself by her right hand. In my despair I siezed the blade end of the broken assegai and dragged it from the body of the Kaffir, thinking that it would serve to kill her, then turned to do the deed. .'■ . But e\*n as I turned I heard a voice that I knew well shout: " Do you live, Marie?" and in the doorway appeared no savage, but Henri Marais. Slowly I backed before him, for I could not speak,; and the last dreadful effort of my will seemed to thrust me towards Marie. I reached her, and threw my hand that still held the gory blade round her neck. Then as darkness came over mo I heard her cry: " Don't shoot, father. It is Allan, Allan who has saved my life!" After that I remember no more. Nor did she for a while, for we, both fell to the ground senseless. • ":.■ »'• '' •• • ' • ' ■ "« ■'. ; When my senses returned to me I found myself lying on the floor of the waggon.

house in tho back-yard. Glancing from my half-opened eyes, for I was still speechless, I saw Marie, white as a sheet, her hair all falling about her dishevelled dress. She was seated on one of those boxes that we put on the front of waggons to drive from, voorkissies they are called, and as her eyes were watching me I knew that she lived. By her stood a tall and dark young man whom I had never seen before. Ho was holding her hand and looking at her anxiously, and even then I felt angry with Mm. Also I saw other things; for instance, my old father leaning down and looking at me anxiously, and outs de in the yard, for there were no doors to the waggon house, a number of men with guns m their hands, some of whom I.knew and others who n were stranger. In the shadow, too, against the wall, stood »y blood mare with lfer head hanging down.and trembl ng all over. Not far from her the roan lay upon the ground, its flank quite red. I tried to rise and could not, then feeling pah? in mv left thigh, looked and saw that it was red also. As a matter of fact an assegai had gone half through it and hit on g the bone. Although [never felt it at the time, this wound was dealt to me by that great Quabie whom Hans and I had received upon our spears, doubtless as he fell. Hans, by the way, was there also, an awful and yet ludicrous spectacle for the Quabie had fallen right .the top of him and lain so with results that may be imagined. There he sat upon the ground, looking upwards, gasping with his th-like mouth. Each gasp, I remember, fashioned itself in the word Allemachte!" that > "Almighty,' a favourite Dutch expression. ■ Marie was the firsts perceive that-1 had come to life - again. ■ Shaking herself free from the clasp of the young man, she staggered upon her knees at my side, muttering words that I could not catchy for they • choked in her throat. Then Hans took in the situation, and wriggling his unpleasant self to my other side, lifted my hand and kissed it. , Next my father spoke, saying: "Praise be to God, he lives! Allan,' my son, I am proud of you; you have done your \ duty as an Englishman should. " Had to save my own skin if I could, thank you, father," I muttered.';: "Why as .an Englishman more than any other sort of man, ' Mynheer Predicant?" asked the tall stranger, speaking in Dutch, although he evidently understood our language.

"The point is one that I will not argue now, sir," answered my father, drawing himself up. " But if what I hear is true, there was a Frenchman in that house who did not do his duty ; and if you belong to the same nation, I apologise to you." "Thank you, sir; as it happens, I do, half. The rest of me is Portuguese, not English, thank God." "God is thanked for many things that must surpriso Him," replied my father in a suave voice. At that moment this rather disagreeable ; conversation, which , even then both angered and amused mo faintly, came to an end, for the Heer Marais entered the place. As might have been expected in so excitable a man, ho was in "a. terrible state of agitation. Thankfulness at the escape of his only, beloved child, rage with the Kaffirs who had tried to kill, her, and extreme distress at the loss of most of his property —all these conflicting emotions boiled together in his breast like antagonistic elements in a crucible.

The resulting fumes were parti-coloured and overpowering He rushed up ito me, blessed and thanked me (for ho had learnt something of the story of the defence), called me a young hero and so forth, hoping that God would reward me. Here I may remark that he never did, poor man. Then he began to rave at Leblanc, who had brought all this dreadful disaster upon his house, saying that it was judgment on himself for having sheltered an athiest and a drunkard for so many years, just because he was French and a; man of intellect. Someone, my father as a matter of* fccfc, who with all his prejudices -possessed a great sense of justice, reminded him that the poor Frenchman had expiated, or perchance was now expiating any crimes that ho might have committed.

This turned the stream of his invective on to the Quabie Kaffirs, who . had . burned' part.. of j;hi3 house and r - stolen nearly jail his stock, making him from a rich" man; into a poor one, in a single hour. He shouted for vengeance on the " black devils," and called on all there to help him to recover his beasts and kill - the thieves. Most of those present—they were about thirty in all, not counting the Kaffir and Hottentot after-riders— wered that they were willing to attack the Quabies. Being residents in the district they felt, and, indeed, said, that his case to-day might and probably would be their case to-morrow. Therefore they were prepared to ride at once. i■■ Then it was that my father intervened. "Heeren," he said, it seems to me that before you seek vengeance, which, as the Book tells ' us, is the Lord's, it would be well, especially for the Heer Marais, to return thanks for what has been saved to him. I mean his daughter,- who might now very easily have been dead or worse." He added that goods came or went according to the chances of fortune, but a beloved human life, once lost, could not be restored. This precious life had been preserved to him, he would not say by man—here he glanced at me—but by the Ruler of the world acting through man. Perhaps those present did not quite understand what he (my father) had learned from Hans the Hottentot, that 1, his son, had been about to blow out the brains of Marie Marais and my own when the sound of the shots of those who had been gathered through the warning which I left before I rode from the mission station, had stayed my hand. He called upon the said Hans and Marie herself to tell them the story, since I was took weak to do so. Thus adjured, the little Hottentot, smothered as he was in blood, stood up. In the simple, dramatic style characteristic of his race, he narrated all that had happened since he met the woman on the veldt but little over twelve hours before, till the arrival of the rescue party. Never have I seen a tale followed with deeper, interest, and when at last Hans pointed' '*«' me lying on the ground and said, "There is he who did these things which it might be thought no man could dohe, but a boy," even from those phlegmatic Dutchmen there came a general cheer.. But, lifting myself upon my hands, I called out.

■ Whatever I did, this poor Hottentot did also, and had it not been for him I could not have done anything—for him and the two good horses." Then they cheered again, and Marie, rising, said : , "Yes, father; to these two I owe mv life." J

After this my father offered his prayer of thanksgiving in very bad Dutch—for, having begun to learn it late in life, he never could really master that language— and the stalwart Boers, kneeling round him, said "Amen." As the reader may imagine, the scene, with all its details, which I will not repeat, was both remarkable and impressive. * What followed this prayer I do not very well remember, for I became faint from exhaustion and the loss of blood. I believe, however, that, the fire having been extinguished, they removed the dead and wounded from the unburnt portion of the house and carried me into the little room where Marie and I had gone through that dreadful scene when I went within an ace of killing her. After this the Boers and Marais's Kaffirs, or rather slaves, whom he had collected from where they lived away from the house, to the number of thirty or forty, started to follow the defeated Quabie, leaving about ten of their number as a guard. i As to the events" of the next three days I know only what I have been told, for practically during all that time I was off my head from loss of blood, complicated with fever brought on by the fearful excitement and exertion I had undergone. All I can recall is a vision of Marie bending over me and making me take food of some sortmilk or soup, I suppose—for it seems I would touch it from no other hand. Also I had visions of the tall shape of my white-haired father, who, like.most missionaries, understood something of surgery and medicine, attending to the bandages on my thigh. Afterwards he told me that the spear had actually cut the walls of the big artery, but, by good fortune, without going through them. Another fortieth of an inch and I should have bled to death in ten minutes! • \,"..', -\ / {To be, continued daily.)