AN AFRICAN LOVE TRAGEDY.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1648, 30 September 1903, Page 5

AN AFRICAN LOVE TRAGEDY.

To all seeming it was the result of Smvthe having black-water fever. But the"real folks to blame wore the pair of uncalculating, philanthropic idiots who had sent Lulu Thomboa home to England to be dressed and educated. If Lulu had worn a cloth, and had her hair arranged out in garden plots, and had spoken coast-English when she attended at the side of Smythes sick bed, nothing would have happened. Undoubtedly Lulu was the best educated girl in Lagos, which perhaps is not saying much ; but'she was also the bestlooking girl in that city, which is saying a good deal. Sinclair-Tbomson, the doctor who attended Smythe professionally during his illness, has died, since, so one hesitates to declare that he deserved very much to be kicked for what he did in detailing Lulu as Smythe’s nurse, but he wanted the poor beggar to die in peace. However, when by all the laws of medicine Smythe ought to have been sinking rapidly, he began to pick up. “Not bagged me this journey, old man,” said Smythe to the doctor upon his next visit. "No,” said Sinclair-Thomson. “You're a marvel.” • • ♦ * « The improvement in the patient’s condition was so rapid that on his next daily visit the doctor said—“As soon as you are fit—and I'll let you shift in three or four days—x’ll order you off to Grand Canary to recuperate.” “Can’t do it,” rejoined Smythe. “I don’t mind telling you, old man, as you’ve been rather good to me of late, that I am stoney broke.” “You poor devil I” “It doesn’t worry me particularly. Only I can’t get away from Lagos, you *ee. So I shall stay on and console myeeif with Miss Thomboa." “Oh I” said the doctor; and ha stood up and put on his pith helmet. “So that’s your game, as it? Then listen to this: If I catch you doing anything wrong to that girl I’ll mix you a cocktail with strychnine instead of bitters/’ ;

“You melodramatic fool!" said Sinytho sourly; “I’m not going to do anything wrong to her.” “I wish I could be sure," Smytlie said, a fortnight later, to Sinclair-Tliomson, “that none of the white men in Lagos are playing any hanky-pank games with my little girl here." “I’hope not," the doctor replied, as bo rolled a cigarette, “I’ve warned two or three brutes off m a way they understood." “How ?” “Promised to poison them if they did her any harm. You know, of course, she is supposed to b© engaged to that Oxford chap Chettar ?” “What, that cheeky nigger-barris-ter ?” “Same man; clever chap. If she married him, you know, they’d be asked to Government House." “My Christian aunt!" said Smytlie. “Forty-five thou’!" “Well, it’s nothing to do' with you." said the doctor. “No, of course not. And if only that girl could change the colour of her hide I’d marry her without a cent!" “What’s that?" said the doctor, quickly. “Nothing," said Smytlie. Lulu came into the room just then, and there was that soft, happy light in her eyes that means only one thing. The doctor sighed, and moved towards the doorway. “You’ll remember what I said about the cocktail?" he said. * * » • If Srnythe had been in any of the Government services, he would have found it convenient to resign after his marriage. But being in the employ of one of the trading houses, which have no bowels for such niceties, he kept on with his work as usual, and lived his life much as before. All things considered, Smythe’s married life ip Lagos was not intolerable. He had an English dog-cart, and the only other English mare in Lagos. And he possessed, moreover, all the creative comforts of an excellent home and the admiration of a comely woman.* «r * v * <* “If I thought you regretted what you have done, dear," Lulu murmured/ qjie day, “and wanted to go back to EhgLand,. I’d kill myself gladly to set you free. But I would never go there with you." Upon which he said, “Pooh!’’ and kissed the dimples on her face. Srnythe had Iris doses of coast fever at intervals, like other men. But for the first three years of his married life he was apt to be bumptious over his immunity from the greater ills of the plaoo. During the succeeding twelve months, however, this phase of complacency passed away. Lulu’s father died,' and Smythe’s own chief went under wit!) typhoid, Smyth© himself, a vivid mottle of prickly heat, after trying to do double work, broke down compJletelv. Sinclair-Thomson tojld him h« must either go north and get the poison out of his system, or be content to die where he was. And he went.

Sinclair-Thomson drove up to Monte Bella Vista in a carriage and pair, and Smythe met him outside the door of the hotel. “Tf you take- such an interest in Luflu,” said Sinytihe, “grimly, after some talk had passed , “why didn’t you marry her yourself ?” “If I had married her I should have stuck to her.” “The fact remains, however, that you did not marry the Jady. I did.” “And nicely you seem to be treating heir. The way you are paying your oourt to this other woman here is the gossip of Les Palmas.” . “Why should I shut myself up like a recluse? Why shouldn’t I mak# women friends as well as men ?” “Is this -ESngjlish girl a friend only ?” “Is anyone of her stamp likely to be anything else to a married man?” “But does she know you are a married man ” ‘‘Wouldn’t gossip tell her that?” “Lagos gossip is not current here. I teil you, Smythe, you’re playing a pretty dirty game on Lulu.” ‘T doin’tl recognise your right to judge me,” said Smythe. He stopped and faced the other with a gesture. “Curse you, go!” he cried. • * • « • When the steamer reached Lagos Lulu went on board and met Smythe with am ecstacy of fondness, and he in decency returned some of her caresses. She, never guessed that anything was wrong, but when she got him home a revelation came to hear with a speed of photography. There was a‘ brass howl on a table full of red acacia blossom. It was a thing symbolical between them. She pointed to it, and nestiied her face against Smythe’s shoulder. He reached out his hand, and with a sudden flush of rage flung the bowl clattering out into the compound below. She shrank back from him with wide staring eyes, and in a second, without, a word being spoken, the whole of his last three months’ history reeled; off at a gallop through hef brain. + “And yet there is a Cod!” she cried, And fainted. « • • • • At the end of six months Smythe saw an opening for moire trade with Porto Novo, and made up his mind to

run over there in person. He was only a week away, and did brilliant business. His “boy" met him on the wharf when he returned.

“Massa!" ‘•Well?’’ ■ “Massa, de Missa." “Go on, you fool." “Massa, she lib for die.” A white man from the shore came up, a,-rid took him kindly by the -arm. “Srnythe, my poor fellow,” he said. “You must bear up. Your wife was going out to the Botanical Gardens, it seems, and the 1 boat got foul of one of those infernal fishers’ nets and capsized.”

“She’s drowned, then?” “I’m sorry to say so, yes. It happened the very afternoon you sailed.’ Smythe reeled up against the charthouse, and the man took him inside and gave him - a glass of the captain’s whisky.. • • • * •

Smythe had realised all his effects (and these added up to £40,000), and he went home. After a decent interval ho married the girl whom he had met in Grand Canary. Lulu is still on the surface of Africa, living in a grqss-roofed hut in an Egba village, and passing her time in a purgatory which she entered open-eyed.

She took six months to carefully consider the matter, and then, when an opportunity came, she contrived to disappear most circumstantially. By a miracle the sharks did not get hold of her as she swam from the upturned boat; and by good chance the lagoon gave up another corpse sufficiently torn to pass as the one searched for.