OUR SERIAL STORY. FOR EVA’S SAKE, AN AFRICAN HERO.

Woodville Examiner, Volume XXII, Issue 3872, 11 May 1906, Page 1 (Supplement)

OUR SERIAL STORY. FOR EVA’S SAKE, AN AFRICAN HERO.

HAROLD BINDLOSS (“ Weathergage”). Author of “The Niger and Its Affluents,” “Scenes of Canadian Life ” “A Cuban Hero,” “The Lieutenant’s Bride,” “The Engineers Joke, etc.

CHAPTER XXII. VINCENT’S RETURN. Towards the close of one sunny afternoon Paul Oonsidine and his daughter stood gazing seaward from the shores of Durban Bay. The glistening waters rolled away before them, and, far behind the house flag of the Castle Lino—a white St. Andrew’s cross upon an azue field —fluttered aloft, a tiny speck of blueness 'against the cloud-flecked

the quiet-answer ; “it cannot bring poor Bertram back, and Mallin told yon as well as bo Could.” “Mallin did bis best, I know, but Mallin could not put five sensible words together to save bis life, and the most lie loft unsaid. There is one man who must render an account of his trust, and, if ho is alive, that man will come from tho ends of the earth to do it. Ho never failed his word. Well, we must possess cur souls in patience —he may even come to-day.” Eva gaiied wistfully at the approaching steamer, now a patch of slatey-grey on tho sapphire ocean, and, leaning on her father’s arm, went hack towards the villa 'as she had done many times be fore, that they might be ready to receive the long-expected guest should lie come at last. The past months had been trying to poor Eva. In spite of every effort she could n'ot forget the days that were gone, and she knew that while life should last there would be but one man in all the world to her, and he the husband of .another woman. Sho had resolutely tried to-blot his memory from her heart, busying herself in many kinds of good works, and praying for strength to cast out what she deemed to he a sin; hut human nature is very strong, valid the innocent son! could find no way cf escape from its heavy burden. The old man, too, had taken the death of his only son very hard. Ho ‘had long ■l*>en in failing health, for the fever of tho Zambesi swamps had never quite, lost its grip upon him; and now ho seemed to break <fown suddenly in body and mind. He showed but little interest in any of his worldly affairs, and longed with what became 'almost a mania for the time when he should all the story from Max well’s lips—yeV Maxwell never came. So Eva had to cheer and comfort the

failing man a s 'well as fight- her own hard battle, until health and nerve began to give way beneath the strain, and she also watched and waited for the adventurer’s coming that afterwards they might turn their hacks upon Africa and bo at rest. It was evening when they eat very silently in the long wainscotted room, with the scent of orange-blossoms and oleanders drifting in through the open casement, and Eva knew by her father’s restless movements that ‘he was in a state of nervous suspense. Presently a thrill went through her, for there was a step upon the shells below which carried her hack to bygone days when she had listened for its coming, and then the verandah stairway creaked. Next a tall, sun-bronzed man stood upon the threshold, his hat in his hand; and Paul Oonsidine rose shakily to his feet. “Como in Vincent,” he said ; “you are very welcome, and we have waited for you long,” and ho clasped the .stranger’s hand in a fervent grasp. Maxwell hesitated, with a quiver at the corner of his lips. “Paul Oonsidine,” ho answered, and there was a dimness in his eyes, “this meeting has hung over my head like a nightmare for many months, and yet I lest no time. It haunted me day and night, for I feared that you would demand his blood at my hands, and 1 have only the old, lame answer—‘Am I my brother’s keeper?’ Now your kindness is worse than your anger, and I do not know how to toll you.” “ When did it happen, and where? Mall in hardly knew,” was the quiet reply, and Maxwell’s voice trembled: ‘‘ln the valley of the Ketu country in the oast of Bengucla. I have the longitude, and the date was—. Paul, I would gladly have gene under to save him, but it might not he. Don’t judge mo harshly, 'Eva. I have failed utterly, and lost that which was entrusted to me, I know, and yet I would have poured out my last drop of blood to save you pain.” The girl passed her hand slowly across her eyes. “I know —ho told mo all,” she said. Maxwell started and gazed sharply at her, but the hesitating voice grew clearer as she continued : “I never told a soul before, but I saw Bertram in a dream, and ho told me many things —how you -watched over him from fever, and how yon fought in the valley. Then the dawn came, and I could only hear the sound of the sea.” “Sick fancies—she was very ill,” said Paul. “Tell mo the whole story Yin-

cent. Doubtless you did your host, hut the power of flesh and blood is flnile, and the end is in higher hands. 7 ’ Then Maxwell, .stanTUng in tho shadowy doorway that they might ’not sec his face, told the a hole story of the Penguela expedition from the beginning, hiding nothing; and the warm hreezo swept into the room in little puffs, fanning his cheeks, which wore clamp with nervous perspiration. After tho first few halting sentences tho mem ory cf many a weary march and forgotten camp in tho far-off forest camo hack sharp and dear, and Vincent s deep voice gained strength. So ho spoko frcin iii.s heart, with power and pa time, and a flush of colour came and went in

the girl’s face as she listened. Though ho said but little of his own doings, her keen intelligence could read between the lines, and the sting 'was driven, deeper. She knew henceforth she must bear a heavier burden still, and that the spell this man cast over her was stronger than before. Also, she blamed herself that there was aught in her heart besides sorro w for the brother she would never see again; and so, torn by conflicting emotions, her breath came thick and fast, and now and then tears fell from her eyes. Old Paul sat gripping the arm of his chair with tightly-clenched fingers, the fast of the sunset shining in upon his intent and rugged face, until at last the tale was told, and Vincent said: “And so he lies far away in the forest, with the men he gave his life for sleeping beside him until the judgmentday.”

“ Ho made a good end, as one of his •blood should, and we have no cause to bo ashamed,” said Paul very slowly. Perhaps it was an instinctive courtesy, perhaps it is a memory of what he had done in tho same place before, many months ago, for the old man rose erect, and, filling a goblet of wine from the decanter at his side, said in a husky voice:

“To the ißenguela exploring expedition nvnd. its loader, Vincent Maxwell, a valiant commander and an honourable gentleman!” Vincent raised Iris glass and answered: “Xo, Paul Considine. To the memory of better men than I—they who rest from their labours in the silence of Africa. I did my duty to them —or tried and failed—and they are now in better hands than mine. May they rest in peace.”

Afterwards, as the Moslem soldier had done on that -bygone day, he poured out a few drops of the wine -one by one, and set down the glaas. The rustle of a drees caught -his ears, and, turning hastily ha saw Eva gliding past. The door swang to softly, and they were alone. Maxwell turned towards his host. “ There is something more to say, Paul and the time is not fitting, but speak I must. Besides, after what Oias happened, I scarcely dare ask you for another, but will you give me Eva? You remember the last time we spoke of this together?” The old man laid his hand on Vincent’s shoulder;

“ All that man could do you did for my dead lad, and I grant you free discharge. As for Eva, she is all I have. I leave it to your honour and conscience to judge whether there is still any obstacle in the way.” There iswrione,” was the answer, and ■®s)i«idirio w*tmt on: 'lgfbThen, If she will have you, I wish you happiness. Do you remember long ago, when we were in the Zambesi swamps together, how you made a day's march with the fever on you to pay a dead carrier’s wages to the_ half-blind eld negro who said he was his father?” Vincent smiled. “I had forgotten that among other youthful follies,” he said; hut Paul paid no heed. ‘‘l never forgot it, and henceforward I knew you were -a man of trust. You remember the bright, Vincent, dear. There are better years to come,” she said.

That voyage was all too short for the lovers, and its pleasant, memories will remain with them all their lives. Paul wisely loft them alone, and day by day they basked in each other’s smiles, with tho quiet happiness only known to those vho have tasted much of the bitterness of life, and have thereby learned to accept such good things as fall in their wav with humble gratitude. So they lounged beneath the flapping awnings as the great, white painted mail boat .rushed swiftly .northwards, cleaving the .sapphire ocean with a sound like the ripping of thin ice, and piling the transparent water high on cither bow in cascades of creaming foam. The long white dock swayed up .and down beneath them in a stately measure like the swing of a great pendulum, and the tapering spars swept to and fro across tho azure above at each roll. Shoals of flying fish leapt cut from the cerulean depths to blunder down wind on glittering, scaly wings, zip zapping here and there into the crest of an undulation, until they plunged again into the sun-lit sea. All the time the Southern Crass tank lower and lower towards the far horizon, until it faded out of sight, and the polo star rose to view. 'Many admiring glances were cast at the pale and handsome woman with the thoughful and refined face and gracious smile, for the “Scot’s” passenger-list was a lengthy one. There wore also quartz-kings and .prosperous stock-rais-ers who would gladly have poured their somewhat coarse compliments into her cans; hut their was .something in the quiet dignity with which Kva repelled their advances at which even the most self confident frit abashed. Besides, it soon became apparent that the sunscorched man with the resolute eyes and firm lips, who was ever at her side, was one 'whose resentment it would not he wise to provoke unduly. The chief steward afterwards told the story of an interview lie had overheard between ‘Maxwell and a certain presumptuous scion of British aristocracy, who seemed unusually blind to the l state of affairs. Vincent came across him persuading tho stewardess to smuggle a parcel of dainty Madeira lace and .silvonvork into Eva’s room, and, as the narrator .averred shook him until every bone in his body rattled. The susceptible youth went, away, talking about eati.sfact ion and a friend,"’ at which Maxwell only smiled and answered drily that duelling days were over, and, besides, he was tired of fighting men, but if anything of the kind happened again the chastisement would he more condign still.

When Eva 'hoard about it, long afterwards, slie laughed and Raid: “I hope you did net hurt the poor creature very much, Vincent, though he deserved it for being so foolish as to think I would

look at anyone else when you were near. ”

•Night after night they paced the ■heaving deck, watching the radiant moonlight flashing across the limitless levels of the glassy ‘ocean, and the blue and green sea fire whirling along the bends; or lounged in 'Madeira chairs listening to the improvised concerts, when me snoring beneath the bows and the deep-toned song of tho engines formed -a throbbing accompaniment to the music on deck. Then the huge voice* dc cliffs and towering heights of Madeira drove aw ay astern, the lovely island dwindled to purple Cloud against the southern sky, and the “Scot” swept northwards faster thjui before, for she was rising inch by inch as her roaring furnaces ate up the countless trucks of coal. Even tho dreaded “Bay” possessed no terrors for Eva, who had that inborn love of the sea which is the heritage of so many British hearts. Thus when the great mail boat drove 'past Finncsterre, and across tho Biscay Bay in the teeth of a wi’d north-wester, donning thicker garments she went fearlessly out on deck, and clinging to Vincent’s -arm, bared her cheeks to the life-giving lash of tho brine. The sharp steel bows swung wildly aloft then buried themselves to the foremaryb in spouting foam and whirling spray. Cascades of water roared across the fore-castle head and poured out through the rail, arid the sunlight made rainbows in the flyingspendrift half-way up to the top-mast head. Next there was a momentary lull, and, afterwards, with tho propeller whirling round in free air, and every plate quivering with the vibration of the racing-engines, the long knife-blade of a hull swooped down into tho trough 'beyond. Then Maxwell would tighten his grasp on Eva’s arm, and picture to her the grim old engineer clinging to the throttle-wheel, fecl--1)1", as it were, the life of the ship pulsing beneath his skilled fingers, while the tgrimy “second” dripping with perspiratic*! ami daul>ctl 'with tallow, loanoci over the reeling platforms pouring out a flood of vigorous 'Clydesdale each time his sensitive nostrils caught a whiff of burning grease. “The power of earnest labour is a wonderful tiling, and them is a rough, inherent honesty in the hearts of the British race,” said Maxwell once, as they felt the massive hull launch itself bodily into tho 'heart of the -soa. il Think of it —one row of badly-closed rivets or a laminated butt strap and every soul on board would be sent to his account. Yet in spite of fierce competition, and scanty wages, wo have thes©,«pS!fcrii»ail. boats without a flaw, linking together the ends of the earth, and driving 'eighteen, knots to windward in the teeth of a Biscay ga e. Maxwell was right, though there are few among all those who, travelling in luxury and ease, understand what they owe to the humble, rivetter and plater at home. . Boor lam or Jock stands perched high aloft on a stage throughout the dreary winter day, with the hammers ringing beneath him, and the snaky hull rising stroke by stroke, holding drift or rimer in uumbed and grimy hands. Hugged, and ionaliv worse, in speech, he not al ways is sober as might bo desired, scantl / nuid, and seeing but little of the sunny side el life; hut he does his woik, and does it well, binding the orthcr and bridging the silent h.gi ways to the uttermost parts of the .sea But all this lias little to do the Ivory nnromantic things as the J emoi • nd tho liilo V Sucero' lionimra-hlo plaoe- shafts (aU to . & hxf *“ STSSa ot flomM <*,«• I>V'» „ SS in ,om way, surd . a , O ,la, victories 1 S,O cSS.‘o“»oltCT’>‘tOcl. • . Sf mii the loosest voyogo Howcvei, ei an d one misty iiy till' ivomirn «'"> st «> l ' I)cs *, ’ ’ ™, d I it noithor in health nor sioltiicss, snftat" M .troth, sroirld ho fi»l ■" ,ho f aarwrva ss^. rvhich nostlocl oolong the W 1 ' 1 " - '' ' IS tho jaeged <m 'S c b “J hove done loony tilings , ' hue never a higher; and if In a .s. j ‘Yes ’ there is no one I would sooner eaU ' mv son■ o\ow. we rival talk of other things, for my poor head is ciazj " So rile two men sat upon the moonlit verandah until the night was far spent, recalling tho half-forgotten days when thev traded in ivory together in the wild land to the north before the Poitngese drove them forth Then with a, kindly grasp of libs 'hand, Paul bade his guest “Good-night!” Vincent slept but little. Between relief and suspense has brain was in a whirl, and he feared as well as longed for the coming day, when he should know his fate. Early next morning he went out bareheaded into the cool 'breeze, which came rustling across the orange £reCts, bringing with it the freshness of the ocean, and when he reached a shady corner bis heart beat fast. Eva

Oonsidino was standing 'beneath the snowy 'blossoms, the cluster of crimson oleanders she held in (her hand forming a glowing spot of colour against her sombre dress; and the adventurer fancied a faint warm tinge crept into tho pale check at his approach, “Eva,” ho said, "1 have a dong story to tell you; will you hear mo patiently?”

The clear eyes were turned full upon him as she answered, “Yes.” Vincent found it strangely hard to begin, and ho 'afterwards wondered if it was done at all; but at last, in plain, straightforward speech, he told the story of his engagement -with Helen Oarson from beginning to end. Eva listened, with a crimson flush creeping from neck to forehead, and now and then a flash in her eyes, before which Vincent’s heart fell, though ho little knew that the woman, with an instinctive and therefore truer knowledge ‘ of such matters, was judging him more favourably than he dared to hope, and that the anger was all for another. Then ho ended: “So, from the day I first saw you at'Mallin’s Drift, I knew I loved you. How I fought against it Heaven only knows! I uev’er caro to look back upon that bitter struggle, and I scarcely Venture to hope you will 1 steep to accept me now.” Again tho girl turned her eyes upon him, and said in a low voice: “ The man who would keep faith with an unworthy woman, in spite of many things, knowing she loved him little, ■may he trusted in all. ” Of what followed Vincent had never a dear remembrance, but a few minutes later Eva was in his arms, looking up into his face with tearful eyes. "And I loved you from tho first,” she said, “and shall love you to tho end. fie, if Heaven wills it, wo shall be happy •at last, and forget the evil days that are gone.” Then they went in together hand-in-hand, for it was not- in this woman’s nature to do things by halves. She was not ashamed of her love, and it was with pride rather than bashfulness that fhe stood before Paul Considine upon >lio verandah, leaning on her lover’s jrm.

“ I wish you both all tho happiness that may fall to those Who have suffered •and are strong,” said Paul, “and 1 give .her to you Vincent, freely and unconditionally; but, while I would make no bargain with you there is one thing which you could do which would gladden an old man’s heart. “For generations we held land in tho wild Antrim mountains, but bad times came, and tho thill farms wont one by one. 'My father clung desperately to the last, loath to leave the soil which had been curs so long, and died, they said, brokeu-hefirted and worn out witlx the struggle to wrest a living from tho bleak hillside. I was -a mere lad when I sailed away in search of a wider land where there was -room for a stout heart and a willing hand—and I found it. The struggle was long and weary; and cho .who cheered mo through tho burden and heat of the day gave way beneath the load. 'So success came too late, as do many of the things wo fight and long for here. I was too old to go "home and begin a new life, and, if Bert had only lived —-but it was not to be. I know my days are numbered—do not bo afraid, Eva, child, you have a better protector now. Every time tho fever comes back there are warnings. What my property here is worth -I hardly know, but there will be enough to buy back the land—every acre —and it shall bo yours if yon and Eva will go back •with me and take it up again.” ‘‘l am not a poor man now,” was Vincent’s answer. “ Tho Benguela trade was very profitable, and the Good Hope Mine lias turned out well again. But I am tired of Africa. The memory of the tilings I have seen and done will haunt mo all my days, though I fought i.v no quarrel that was not forced upon me. The stir of big cities would jar upon mo after the wilds, so, with Eva's leave, wo will go back together and do your will.” There was a suspicion of a smile on the old man’s lips, and a sparkle in bis eye as be answered:

“It is no light promise, Vincent. Tho peasants of the ‘black north’ aro a stiffnecked race. For contrariness they could probably give points at times to cither Krooboy, Eanti, or Arab. I am. of that blood myself, so I speak advisedly; and you will find it in Eva, too.” Eva turned her happy face away to hide her laughter—father and daughter had clashed at times—-and so the matter ■was settled. For a month afterwards there was much excitement among financial circles in Capo Town as Paul’s stocks and lands and mining shares were Sold one by one, and tho prices realised were high. Then they hooked their passage homewards from Cape Town in the “ Scot,” Vincent deferring hi.s marriage, at tho old 'man’s request, that it might ho celebrated where so many of his forbears sleep in the shadow of the ancient church among tho hills. “Perhap’s it’s a foolish fancy,” he said, “hut you have already waited long. For 'generations we wore chirstened and the eldest was 'married there. There they sleep, too, many a Co-nsicline, and the bones of the rest—the younger sons— lie far apart, for they went down in many a reel field; and the last—he, tee, died as became his race. So, if you are to hold the old lands, you must follow out the old customs also:” and, seeing a warning look in Eva’s eyes, Vincent said no word. CH A PTE rTx XIII. HOMEWARD BOFND. A few weeks after the sale of the last ■parcel of .shares, Eva Considine stood on tho deck of the R.M.S. “ Scot” An otficer bustled forward to warn non-pas-sengers ashore, but his voice was almost drowned and lost in the rattle cl tho winches and the pulsating roar of escaping .steam. Tho taciturn Robert iMa'lin, who had journeyed many hundreds of miles to Cape Town, for tho .double purpose of signing certain transfers of .stock and 'bidding farewell to the man at whose .side he had faced so many perils, abruptly held out hi.s hand. “ Good-bye and happiness go with yon, Vincent!” he said. “We'll never forget you, and should yen come hack you’ll always find a warm • welcome at •Mallin’s Drift. ”

'Maxwell pressed has hand. Then the third officer hustled forward, saying: “Now, my friend, hurry ashore unless you Vo hound for Plymouth,” and, raising his hat, the frontiensm'an went down the side.

“ That'a tlie longest speech Robert Mallin over made in his life, and !h© forgot mo altogether,” said Era, smiling; and Vincent answered: “There’s a very kind heart beneath the rough exterior.” A deep, vibrating boom drowned his voice, the polished rail trembled, the deck planks quivered beneath the feet, and with the steam whirling aloft from her triple whistle-crown the “Soot” slowly churned awiay from her moorings. The three leaned over the taffrail aft, gazing astern across the eddying wake •with full hearts until the bold heights of Table 'Mountain and the city basking in the sunglaro beneath its feet, grew hazy and indistinct, and Vincent said; “ Good-bye to Africa! I have spent some happy days and very many sad ones there, and we will never see it again.” Eva’s hand closed gently on his arm. “We will forgot the sad ones, and only had travelled far in many lands, and now it vseemod good to them to bo at rest. Many a mile of dark hillside and league of barren moorland rose, ridge beyond ridge, above their heads, until the far-off summits towered strangely hard and cold against the summer sky; and below the restless tides of the Irish Sea, streaking tire turquoise plain with white, chafed and moaned past spouting reef and surf-fringed head. A few clouds flitted by before the listless breeze, and bill and shore lay bathed in yellow sunshine; but hero was no wealth of copse and meadow, springing wheat and rose-scrccncd cottage, for the land 'was beautiful with the stern and lonely beauty of the North. “I have scon more lovely places,” said Eva, as she swept her eyes from the tide-race below to the dusky 'heights above, “but there is a sense of freedom. and grandeur in it all which will suit your restless spirit better far than sheltered dales or crowded cities;” and Maxwell knew his wife spoke truth. As they crossed the threshold of their now homo, Paul Considino raised his hand .above them. “ May every happiness he yours, my children,” ho said in a husky voice. “.Now I have done my work and seen my dearest wish fulfilled, and am ready when the message comes.” “Yon will live many years yet, father, I hope,” said Eva wistfully; but Vincent made no answer —he saw a curious shade of grey cross the rugged face, and could read the handwriting on the wall. A few months afterwards, when the mists of autumn crept down from the lofty .moors, Paul gave orders for bis horse to he saddled, for he would ride far across the hills. Eva tried to persuade him from it, but bo smiled grimly as bo said :

Lrjuury <t uuiguu -man vi\* x <«ui jiwuvh - through tho heart of a hostile country, too. I must make another journey before the winter day clo.scn in. Who knows w’luit may happen before tho spring?” So tho old man swung himself stiffly into tho saddle, and they watched him climb tho steep hillside until ho vanished among the heather in tho misty moors above. It was late tho following evening when ho returned, tired hut cheerful, and there was an unusual gentleness in his voice as he chatted with them round the hearth that -night. When morning camo they found him leaning hack in an old oak chair, very still and Cold, an open Bible before him, and a burnt-out lamp beside. So Paul Considino, after a life of toil and adventure passed peacefully to his rest, and •was gathered to his fathers. Vincent'Maxwell reigned in lus stead, for a lawyer came over from Larne with a will which the old man had signed two days before ho died, bequeathing all the old estate of tho Oonsidincs, lately purchased back, to to his daughter and her husband, their heirs .and .successors for ever. (To ho concluded.) SIAM’S FLOATING HEARSES. Despite the prevalence of the popular idea, the umbrella was apt invented in England. A .striking proof of this is afforded in -a funeral custom which has ■existed in Siam many more years than wo have known the umbrella in -other countries. This custom consists of floating the -body of the deceased Siamese

worthy down the river in a canoe, in tho centre of which is raised a. lingo mast, -which forms the centre Of many umbrellas, diminishing in size to tho top, which is crowned by a black flag. Often -many of these canoes may bo seen drifting along together, and they present a very weird sight. No one seems to he able to account for this extraordinary on stem, and its origin is lost in antiquity.